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dailyanarchistposts · 2 months ago

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Technology

Technology Today

The neutrality of science and technology is a myth. Science is used to legitimate power, technology to justify social control. The myth is wheeled out when technology comes under fire e.g. for causing industrial pollution or traffic congestion. Inadequate policies or under-developed technology are blamed rather than the technology itself. The solution is a “technical fix” — more of the same. The ideology of industrialisation is that modernisation, technological development and social development are the same. It is used to justify the pursuit of economic growth, with the emphasis on wealth generation rather than its distribution.

This ideology is used to suppress the potential for individualsocial emancipation offered by particular machines such as wind power technology (i.e. small scale, for local use, and community controlled), and to legitimise their use in ways that are socially and environmentally exploitative (large scale wind farms under state/private control supplying the National Grid). Technological innovation is used politically, but presented in neutral technical/scientific terms such as “increased efficiency”. A modern example might be the introduction of assembly line production techniques into the construction industry; or a ‘technical solution’ to social needs such as the development of a new transport system; or as the economic ‘rationalisation’ of out of date technologies, for instance the introduction of new print technology by Rupert Murdoch at Wapping which led to the printers’ strike of 1986/7. ‘Work improvement’ schemes such as job enrichment allow workers a say in minor decisions to divert them from key areas such as pay and productivity. Innovation is used as a threat to blackmail sections of the workforce into particular tasks: employers often threaten female machine workers that if their demands for equal pay with men are met, they will be replaced by machines.

Science has prostituted itself to its paymaster, big business, and is a dangerous partner in change. In the 1880’s Frederick Winslow Taylor invented ‘scientific management’ (now known as Taylorism). He believed all productive processes could be broken down into hundreds of individual tasks and each made more efficient through rigorous management and the use of controlling technology. A prime example is the assembly line and it is no coincidence that the great ‘success’ of Henry Ford was based on the application of Taylor’s principles to mass automobile production. What is surprising is that during the Russian Revolution, the Bolsheviks enthusiastically took up Taylorism. Lenin described it as “a combination of the refined brutality of bourgeois exploitation and a number of the greatest scientific achievements in the field of analysing the mechanical motions of work; we must systematically try it out and adapt it to our own ends.” A belief in the neutrality of technology, and that it could be controlled by the scientific and managerial elites of the ‘workers’ state, was one of the factors leading to the corruption and eventual destruction of the Russian Revolution. But Taylor’s research has since been shown to be wholly unscientific. His timed study tasks were made on an atypical worker chosen for his large size, great strength, and general stupidity. Taylorism has largely been superseded by ideas about ‘job enrichment’ at work; unfortunately, such ideas are equally unscientific.

The objectivity of the scientific method is used to mask the problems created by advanced technology and to legitimise the policies of the ruling class. The Roskill Commission was set up in 1969 to look at the siting of a third London airport. The masses of ‘expert evidence’ showed that it was less socially damaging to fly loud aircraft over working class rather than middle class areas because of the different effects on property values. Technological programmes are presented as outside the area of political debate, so only technical objections are allowed. Official enquiries into the location of motorways and nuclear power stations can discuss where they will cause the least environmental and social disturbance but not whether they are needed in the first place or whose interests they serve. Similarly, the trend is to present politics as a purely technical or managerial activity, with policies assigned measurable ‘performance targets’ but which ignore other social consequences.

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littlequeenies · 2 days ago

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Maureen Wilson Plant

Maureen Plant, née Wilson was born in India. She was a trained nurse and the only wife of Led Zeppelin's frontman Robert Plant, and muse of the band's "Thank You" song. She is the mother of 3 of his children: Carmen Jane, Karac Pendra, and Logan Romero Plant.

Early Years and Family

Maureen F. Wilson was born in Kolkata (formerly Calcutta), India on November 20th, 1948. She has one younger sister, Shirley Wilson.

Guitarist Vernon Pereira (1944 – 25 October 1976), who was a founding member of the Band of Joy with Chris Brown, was her cousin.

Maureen Wilson's father was chief of the Calcutta mounted police. Their family moved to Trinity Road, West Bromwich sometime after Indian independence, where he became a steel factory owner in Birmingham.

[Maureen and Robert at their home, Jennings Farm at Blakeshall in Worcestershire, England, by Mike Randolph/Paul Popper/Popperfoto]

Relationship with Robert Plant

In 1966, Maureen Wilson met Robert Plant at a Georgie Fame concert, which at the last minute was canceled. From then on they began seeing each other and their relationship blossomed. Throughout the mid-1960s, Plant struggled financially. He played in various bands such as Listen, Band of Joy, and even had a few solo projects.

Plant later acknowledged that Maureen, who was working as a qualified nurse at the time, had helped him financially during this period of chopping and changing bands. Apparently, Plant even had a short stint working in Maureen’s father’s steel factory to make ends meet.

On November 9th, 1968, Robert and Maureen married. The reception took place at the Roundhouse, a venue Led Zeppelin played earlier that evening.

In 1969, Maureen traveled with Led Zeppelin on their North American Spring Tour, however, this was her last ever tour on the road with the band. After that, she stayed on the family farm and looked after their children.

Also in 1969, Robert Plant dedicated the track “Thank You” to her.

Robert and maureen had three children: Carmen Jane (born 21 October 1968); Karak Pendra (20 April 1972 – 26 July 1977); and Logan Romero Plant (born January 21 1979). Robert was present for the birth of all 3 of their children.

[November 21, 1976 - Robert and Maureen with their children Karac Pendra and Carmen Jane, with Scarlet Page (C) at "The Song Remains the Same" premiere party.]

Car accident and Karac's death

The day after the last Earls Court date, on March 26th 1975, Robert Plant, Maureen, and their two children set out on a trip to Marrakech, Morocco. Jimmy Page, his girlfriend Charlotte Martin and their daughter, Scarlet, joined the Plants in June. The two families travelled through July and wound up on the Greek island of Rhodes. On August 3rd, Page left to check on some property in Sicily. The next day, Maureen Plant was driving her family and Scarlet Page in a rented Austin Mini car down a narrow road on the island when she lost control. The car hit a tree hard. Thrown against the steering wheel, Maureen suffered life-threatening injuries and had lost a large amount of blood. Robert first thought she was dead. Maureen's leg was broken, her pelvis fractured, and she suffered concussion for 36 hours from a fractured skull. Robert and their children were seriously injured but Scarlet Page was unhurt. Charlotte Martin and Maureen's sister Shirley Wilson, who were following in the car behind managed to get medical help, but there was concern the local facilities were inadequate and Swan Song Records tour manager Richard Cole was contacted to bring the Plants back home to England for emergency treatment. Band manager Peter Grant arranged for two Harley Street specialists as well as blood plasma to be sent via private jet in the meantime. While Robert had to be moved again to the Channel Islands for tax reasons and recuperation, Maureen remained in London to continue recovery. Robert wrote the song 'Tea for One', about his feelings for her on tours away from home.

Karac Plant was at the tender age of five when he became suddenly ill with an unidentified viral infection. On July 26th 1977, Led Zeppelin traveled to New Orleans for the next show. As they were checking into the hotel, Robert received a call from his wife Maureen at the family's farmhouse near Kidderminster, Worcestershire. The first phone call said his son was sick, and within the next two hours later, she informed Robert that Karac had passed away. Earlier Karac had felt ill and been ordered to bed by the family doctor, but his condition deteriorated. Maureen called an ambulance but he failed to respond to treatment and died on the way to Kidderminster General Hospital on Tuesday 26 July 1977. Robert Plant was shocked and devastated. An autopsy held on Monday 1 August 1977, revealed Karac had died from natural causes. Only a week earlier Carmen had become ill with the same stomach enteritis which affected Karac. Karac's funeral and cremation was held in the first week of August 1977.

[Robert Plant and his extended family, including (L-R) his then girlfriend Jessica Jupp, his son Logan Romero, Maureen, 2 grandchildren, Carmen, her husband and child?, Shirley Wilson and son Jesse Lee aka Jordan Plant.]

The 1980s and beyond

Logan Romero Plant was born on 27 January 1979. His birth hardened Robert's resolve not to tour the United States for any length of time.

Robert and Maureen divorced in August 1983, but they have remained friends.

Maureen Plant dated Ian Hatton, guitarist for Jason Bonham around 1991.

In October 2010, she attended a number of UK shows of the Robert Plant and the Band of Joy European Tour 2010.

[Maureen in 2008 with a friend/fan]

*CHECK OUR MAUREEN PLANT PHOTO ALBUM HOSTED AT GOOGLE PHOTOS*

#maureen wilson #maureen plant #nurse #robert plant #carmen plant #logan plant #muse #1960s maureen p #1970s maureen p #2000s maureen p #bio #karac plant #logan romero plant

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ingek73 · 2 years ago

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Official jewellery gifts to royals worth £80m are not in national collection

Palace refusing to explain why official state gifts worn by Princess of Wales and Camilla are not in the royal collection

David PeggFri 14 Apr 2023 07.29 BST

Buckingham Palace is refusing to explain why 11 pieces of jewellery potentially worth £80m that were official gifts to the royal family are not held in a trove of national heritage.

The jewels, which have been worn by Queen Elizabeth II; Camilla, the Queen Consort, and Catherine, Princess of Wales, are not contained in the royal collection, the custodian of culturally significant items held in trust for the nation.

The pieces include a set of aquamarine jewellery, four brooches and six necklaces, including an extraordinary Cartier necklace of emerald- and brilliant-cut diamonds worth at least £40m given to the late Queen by an Indian prince.

At least four of the items were presented by heads of state. The palace’s policy states that “as a general rule” gifts to the sovereign from another monarch or head of state “automatically” become part of the royal collection, a body that manages items held by the sovereign in trust for the nation.

The Royal Collection Trust, which manages the collection, confirmed that it does not have custody of the 11 jewels.

A Buckingham Palace spokesperson declined multiple invitations to explain the current ownership of the 11 pieces. They suggested the royals do not regard the jewellery as their private property and that the items, which were given to the late queen between 1947 and 1979, “may” in the future be added to the royal collection.

“Official gifts are not the personal property of the member of the royal family who receives them, but may be held by the sovereign in right of the crown or designated in due course as part of the royal collection,” the spokesperson said. They declined to explain why the items were not already in the royal collection.

The palace’s policy on official gifts was first formulated in 1995 and updated in 2003. The guidelines state that items received on state visits or in connection with the royal family’s official role are not their private property.

All of the pieces identified by the Guardian were given to the queen before the guidelines were established. There is nothing in the policy that addresses gifts received by the royal family or the monarch before the code was set up.

The potential value of the items is hard to determine. Were anyone else to sell them, they would collectively be worth at least £8m, according to expert valuers.

However, analysis of previous auctions of jewels that were owned or worn by royals suggest the link to the Windsors would add a premium that could easily increase their total value to well over £80m.

‘An exceptional jewel’

Among the gifts identified are pieces of jewellery given to the queen at her wedding in 1947 and at her coronation a few years later by state officials.

It is one of the late queen’s most elaborate diamond necklaces and one she wore regularly. It has also been worn by Catherine, now the Princess of Wales, including at a gala at the National Portrait Gallery in 2014.

Sara Abey, a gemologist and jewellery merchant who estimated the value of several items for the Guardian, said the necklace could be worth more than £4m before considering its association with the British royal family.

“Having a renowned maker, important history and notable provenance, the queen’s Nizam of Hyderabad necklace is an exceptional jewel,” she said.

However her estimate of its value did not take into account what is described as the royal premium, which can dramatically inflate the sale value of an item and could make this necklace worth at least £40m.

Another diamond necklace was given to the queen as a wedding present by distinguished individuals from the City of London.

This, like many of the 11 items identified by the Guardian, was worn regularly by the queen. Other members of the royal family have also been seen wearing some of the gifts.

A diamond necklace presented to the queen during a state visit to the United Kingdom in 1967 by King Faisal of Saudi Arabia was lent to Diana, Princess of Wales in 1983. The necklace was originally made by the American jeweller Harry Winston in 1952 and could be worth as much as £9m.

Twelve years later, during a reciprocal visit by the queen to Saudi Arabia, Faisal’s successor, King Khalid, gave her another of Winston’s diamond necklaces, now worth more than £8m.

A necklace of turquoises from the then president of Pakistan, Muhammad Ayub Khan, given on a state visit in 1966, and four brooches are among the other official gifts identified by the Guardian. These include the Flame Lily brooch, which was presented to Elizabeth on her 21st birthday by the children of Southern Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe), who were each asked to donate three pence to pay for it.

The diamond necklaces and brooches were included in a 2012 reference volume published by the Royal Collection Trust or exhibited in Diamonds: A Jubilee Celebration display.

The exhibition was described as including “an unprecedented display of a number of the queen’s personal jewels – those inherited by Her Majesty or acquired during her reign.”

Quick Guide

How we estimated the value of the royal jewellery

Valuing the royal family’s private jewellery collection is exceptionally difficult. A professional valuation would require each stone of each item to be inspected for occlusions or other imperfections that cannot be detected by the naked eye.

Even where an estimate can be made, there is then the ‘royal premium’: the association with the royal family, which could multiply the value many times over.

In 1989, Laurence Krashes, a senior assessor for the US jeweller Harry Winston, described the task as ‘like landing a plane in fog without a radar’. He assessed the family’s collection – excluding the royal premium – at £36m for the royal journalist Andrew Morton.

The Guardian has identified several items Krashes did not consider, such as the Cullinan IX ring and a diamond necklace given to the then Princess Elizabeth as a wedding gift in 1947. Sara Abey, a fellow of the Gemmological Association and jewellery merchant, provided the Guardian with estimates for the additional pieces.

Morton multiplied Krashes’ estimates tenfold to try to achieve a more realistic value. However an auction of the late Princess Margaret's jewellery in 2006 suggests this may have been a considerable underestimate. A Guardian analysis found items sold for an average of 18 times the auction house’s top-end estimate.

Since that 2006 auction, the value of royal jewellery has increased further. Fifty of Margaret’s items went on sale again in 2020, with one diamond ring having an asking price of £1.1m, almost 10 times the 2006 sale price of £142,000. This was already higher than the original auction valuation of £70,000

Opting for caution, the Guardian has used a multiplier of 10 to reflect a conservative estimate of the royal premium.

#abolish the monarchy #queen elizabeth ii #duchess of cambridge #kate middleton #camilla parker bowles #brf #cost of the crown #the guardian #jewelry

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justforbooks · 2 years ago

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By the standards of the hapless Greek monarchy, Constantine II, the last king of the Hellenes, who has died aged 82, led a comfortable life in exile after a brief and turbulent reign. Of the seven Greek monarchs of the 19th and 20th centuries, three were deposed, one assassinated, two abdicated and one died of septicaemia after being bitten by a barbary ape in the royal gardens.

The Glücksburg monarchy was German-Danish in origin, imposed on Greece in the 1830s. During prolonged wrangling after Constantine’s deposition, the Greek government refused to give him a passport until he acknowledged that he was Mr Glücksburg, whereas he insisted he was just plain Constantine. As the last of Greece’s deposed monarchs he escaped lightly. But decades of exile in London, as one thing the Greeks did not want back from Britain, were not how he would have chosen to spend his life.

In Hampstead Garden Suburb, Constantine lived in some state – apparently supported largely by donations from Greek monarchists – and visitors were expected to address him as Your Majesty. He was included in many invitations by the British royal family, to whom, like most of Europe’s monarchies, he was related. Prince Philip was his father’s first cousin, King Charles III his second cousin and Queen Elizabeth II a third cousin, and he was a godfather to Prince William. His wife was a Danish princess, the sister of Denmark’s Queen Margrethe II, and his sister Sofía became queen of Spain. Only in Greece was he unrecognised, and he was not allowed to return to live there until 2013, long after the events that had toppled him from the throne after a military coup in 1967 and resulted in the abolition of the monarchy in Greece in 1973.

In many ways, Constantine was a victim of the vicious political infighting that has characterised Greek politics and its society for much of the period since the second world war. It perhaps needed a stronger, more experienced and more resolute approach to surmount the crises of his three-year reign than the young man in his early 20s could manage. In later life he said in an interview that he might have liked to be an actor or a journalist, but his fate was to spend his life as an ex-king, harried by Greek politicians and in turn harassing them in a prolonged legal fight for compensation for his family’s lost property, eventually through the European court of human rights.

Born in Athens, Constantine was the son of the Greek crown prince, Paul, the younger brother of King George II, and his German-born wife Princess Frederica, and was taken into exile as a baby following the Italian and then Nazi invasions of the country in 1940-41. His early years were spent first in Egypt and then in South Africa, before the family returned to Greece following the referendum that restored George to the throne in 1946. George died the following year, and Paul became king.

Constantine was educated at a private high school in Athens, modelled on the same lines as the German educationist Kurt Hahn’s principles at Gordonstoun, and afterwards attended Athens University to study law. A keen sailor, Constantine was a member of Greece’s winning sailing team at the 1960 Rome Olympics – the country’s first gold medal in nearly 50 years.

He succeeded to the throne aged 23 on his father’s death in March 1964, becoming head of state in a country that had not got over the civil war between communists and the Greek government of 1946-49, and where political tensions and divisions continued to run deep. The CIA, desperate to avoid Greece falling into communist hands, was also active in Athens. Greece was a strategic pawn between the US and the Soviet Union, each anxious to pull the country into its sphere of influence in the eastern Mediterranean. At the same time, it was attempting to modernise with social and economic reforms as an associate member and applicant to join the Common Market.

The month before Constantine came to the throne, a general election had produced a centrist – moderate, leftwing – government under George Papandreou, following 11 years of rightwing government. Within a year, relations between the king and his prime minister were breaking down. Conservative army officers were alarmed by a perceived leftwards drift among the junior ranks, who were supported by Papandreou’s Harvard-educated son Andreas. When George Papandreou announced that he would take over the defence ministry himself, Constantine refused to allow him to do so, and the government resigned. In the hiatus that followed, the king attempted to appoint a government without holding an election and was accused of acting unconstitutionally.

When elections were finally called in April 1967, the likely re-election of Papandreou was forestalled by an army coup led by colonels. Constantine initially appeared to go along with the insurgents. He argued later that he had had no choice as the palace was surrounded by army tanks, but there were also persistent suggestions that he had been urged by the American embassy to do so in order to avoid another radical government. Many Greeks and civilian politicians never forgave the king for acceding to the coup, but within months he attempted a counter-coup of his own, fleeing to loyalist troops in the northern city of Kavala that December in an attempt to create a rival military support and force the junta to resign.

The operation was poorly organised and, although the air force and navy declared their support, the army and its officers rallied to the coup leaders. Support for the king melted away within 24 hours. Fearing bloodshed if it came to a military confrontation, Constantine and his family fled into exile, first in Rome and then a few years later in London.

There was no going back for the king. The junta, led by Colonel Georgios Papadopoulos, brutally consolidated their regime using censorship, mass arrests of opponents, torture and imprisonments, and were not going to reinstate Constantine after his attempted coup. When monarchist navy officers unsuccessfully attempted to overthrow the colonels in June 1973, Papadopoulos declared the country a republic, endorsed subsequently in a plebiscite widely assumed to have been rigged.

Nonetheless, when the regime fell following the Turkish invasion of Cyprus in 1974, to be succeeded by a civilian government, a further referendum was held to determine whether the king should be restored. Constantine was not allowed to return in order to campaign on his own behalf, though he was allowed to broadcast an address from London in which he apologised for his previous errors. But his maladroit interference with the civilian governments before the coup was held against him and the outcome of the vote in December 1974 was heavily in favour of a republic: by 69% to 31%.

Thereafter, for decades, Constantine was prevented from visiting Greece except briefly and on rare occasions: for his mother’s funeral in 1981 and for an attempted holiday in 1993, when he found his yacht was constantly harried by torpedo boats and aeroplanes. The following year, the Greek government revoked his citizenship and passport and seized the royal family’s property. “The law basically said that I had to go out and acquire a name. The problem is that my family originates from Denmark and the Danish royal family haven’t got a surname,” he said, adding that Glücksburg was the name of a place not a family: “I might as well call myself Mr Kensington.”

In 2000, the court of human rights found for the king in relation to the property, though it could only order compensation, not the return of his extensive estates nor the royal palace at Tatoi and awarded him only 12m euros (around £10m), rather than the 500m he had asked for: a reduction that the Greek government counted as a triumphant vindication. It nevertheless took another two years to pay the money and, when it did so, the government took it from its extraordinary natural disasters fund rather than general reserves. In retaliation, Constantine used the money to set up a charitable foundation in the name of his wife to assist Greeks suffering from natural disasters. He said: “I feel the Greek government have acted unjustly and vindictively. They treat me sometimes as if I am their enemy – I am not the enemy. I consider it the greatest insult in the world for a Greek to be told he is not a Greek.”

Generally, while expressing a wish to be allowed to live in Greece, which was granted in 2013, Constantine seemed equable about his fate and did not attempt to regain the throne. “All I want is to have my home back and to be able to travel in and out of Greece like every other Greek. I don’t have to be in Greece as head of state. I am quite happy to be there as a private citizen,” he told the Sunday Telegraph in 2000. “Forget the past, we are a republic now. Let’s get on with the future.”

Constantine is survived by his wife, Princess Anne-Marie of Denmark, whom he married in 1964; and their three sons, Pavlos, Philippos and Nikolaos, and two daughters, Alexia and Theodora.

🔔 Constantine II, former King of Greece, born 2 June 1940; died 10 January 2023

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

#JUST FOR BOOKS #Constantine II #Former King of Greece #in memoriam

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byneddiedingo · 1 year ago

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Linda Darnell and George Sanders in Forever Amber (Otto Preminger, 1947)

Cast: Linda Darnell, Cornel Wilde, Richard Greene, George Sanders, Glenn Langan, Richard Haydn, Jessica Tandy, Anne Revere, John Russell, Jane Ball, Robert Coote, Leo G. Carroll, Margaret Wycherly. Screenplay: Philip Dunne, Ring Lardner Jr., Jerome Cady, based on a novel by Kathleen Winsor. Cinematography: Leon Shamroy. Art direction: Lyle R. Wheeler. Film editing: Louis R. Loeffler. Music: David Raksin.

Once a famous "dirty book," Kathleen Winsor's Forever Amber wouldn't raise eyebrows or blood pressures in the average book club of today, but it was one of Hollywood's hottest properties in the 1940s. The bidding war was won by 20th Century Fox, which followed the example of Gone With the Wind by announcing a search for the actress who would play the glamorously wicked Amber St. Clair. Though the part originally went to Peggy Cummins, producer Darryl F. Zanuck finally decided that she looked too young to play the mature Amber, and when she was sidelined by illness just as filming began, she was replaced by Linda Darnell. John Stahl, the original director, left the film at the same time, and Otto Preminger stepped in. He disliked the book and asked for a script rewrite, but Preminger also delighted in trying to get things past the censors, who were all over the project. The result is a middling costume drama with too much material from the book to fit comfortably in its two-hour run time. Amber is an ambitious lass raised in a Puritan household who, when Charles II is restored to the throne, latches on to a handsome Cavalier, Bruce Carlton (Cornel Wilde), and heads for London. When Carlton is commissioned as a privateer by the king (George Sanders) and sets sail, Amber, who is pregnant with Carlton's child, is left with a little money that gets swindled away from her and lands in Newgate, the debtors' prison. She gives birth, escapes from prison, makes a living by thievery, goes on stage, attracts the eye of the king, marries an elderly earl, nurses a returned Carlton through the plague, inherits the earl's fortune when he dies during the Great Fire, and becomes the king's mistress. All of this immoral behavior should mean, under the Production Code, that she gets punished accordingly, but somehow the movie manages to finesse that with only a little emotional stress at the end. Forever Amber got condemned by the Catholic church and banned in a few places, but it was evidently bowdlerized enough to survive and make money. The truth is, it's a little dull. It comes to life occasionally when Sanders is on screen being royally wicked, but Darnell, with a blonde dye job and wig, never gets a chance to do more than be cautiously wicked and suffer prettily. The Technicolor is also rather dark and muddy, although that may be the result of an aging print.

#Forever Amber #Otto Preminger #Linda Darnell #George Sanders

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master-john-uk · 2 years ago

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My late grandfather's stockbroking and insurance business was one of the first companies to move into the new Hay's Galleria development when it opened in 1987, relocating from the City of London. Three of my cousins continue to run the "family" business from the same office.

I, like my father, never had any interest in joining the family firm, and by 1987 I had already established myself in the Ministry of Defence. Due to my grandfather's complicated Last Will and Testament, I owned 30% of the company at that time. Something my stockbroker cousins were not happy about. Uncle Charlie was struggling to sell the City of London office building which was built for my grandfather in the early 20th Century.

Uncle Charlie and his two sons offered me a deal. I could buy the six storey building near the Bank of England for a very discounted price, in exchange for most of my shares in the business that they were running. I jumped at the chance.

It was not the wisest business decision I have ever made, (but it proved to be profitable a few years later.) I had this huge building in the City which I had no idea, or long-term plan of how I was going to use it... and I now only had a negligible income from my remaining 2% shareholding in the family business. From 1988 to 1997, with the help of my newly recruited Business Advisor I managed to rent out the office space to several other businesses, which paid for the upkeep of the property and generated a small income.

In 1997, I began formulating a plan to start my own business in defense and security research and development. At that time the MoD had begun subcontracting their R&D work to private companies, and there was talk about large-scale redundancies.

Also in '97, the City office building was in desperate need of a refit and renovation, and most of my tenant businesses moved out.

In 1998, I started my own business after securing two contracts from the UK Government. I rented workshop space at my original employment base of MoD Fort Halstead, which doubled as my office initially. (I was still officially employed by the Ministry. This put a strain on my time, but also helped fund my business in the early days.)

In late 1999 refurbishment complete, my company's head office opened in the City of London. We began a rapid expansion gaining work from other UK based businesses, and seeking international clients.

The beginning of the 21st Century was an exciting time, but financially very difficult. Competing against £billion companies such as BritishAerospace was not easy. This was when having a prestigious City of London address proved to be a big advantage. (In those days, most business contracts were negotiated face-to-face.)

In 2002 my hard work paid off, and our business boomed (in more ways than one!) The City office became a very busy place. More and more administration staff required, as well as IT experts, a small electronics workshop and London-area technician's base.

Today my company occupies the top three floors of the City building, two floors are currently rented out to other businesses, the 1st and ground floors are currently under-utilised and used by the building management team, as well as providing bicycle storage, shower and changing facilities... nobody wants to sit next to a sweaty, lycra-clad cyclist all day long! I was looking at the possibility of opening the ground floor to the public with a coffee shop and, maybe a small gymnasium... but, then COVID struck... luckily before I decided to go ahead with these plans.

In January 2020, my company's R&D team and workshop relocated to Wiltshire, from Fort Halstead on the outskirts of London. (That was a sad for me, as that is where I began my career forty years earlier.) When the pandemic hit in March of that year, my company took a big financial hit when our largest ever non-military contract was cancelled.

We survived, but since then I have been looking to relocate the office and sell the City of London building. Like Uncle Charlie in 1987, I have struggled to find a potential buyer who would make me a sensible offer. Early in 2023 a property developer made a very generous offer. I am now struggling to find a suitable alternative site. I do not want to lose any of my loyal office staff... so, it needs to be secure, close to London, have ample parking and be close to a mainline railway station. I recently found an ideal building on a new industrial estate south of Gatwick Airport, but the nearest railway station is too far away.

There is a possibility of building a new office at the site we rent near Croydon where we currently keep our London-based technician's vehicles and equipment. I can drive there in just over 30 minutes and it has (fairly) good transport links. The owner of the site is not keen on the idea, but I have submitted plans to the council. If approved, I will make an offer to the current owner to buy the site. (They need to recoup their losses from the ongoing rail strikes somehow!)

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mariacallous · 2 years ago

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I am in the midst of a house move. It is not by choice. I am one of the thousands of renters in London facing eviction – although technically our landlord has simply decided not to renew our tenancy, a decision that doesn’t seem to factor into official eviction stats, though it should, given the frequency with which it’s occurring.

My landlord was one of that rare breed: the “good” landlords. You hear about them occasionally. The bar is very low, yet most private landlords (in London, at least) fail to clear it. Not a price gouger; fixes things when asked; doesn’t treat tenants like squatters who happen to be paying half their monthly salary for the privilege of residing in their buy-to-let.

But without proper legal protections and rights for private tenants, such as rent caps, tenancy security even in cases of house sales, and the option of indefinite tenancies, all that separates a good landlord from a bad one is the wafer-thin concept of decency. Tenants are totally reliant on the whims and personal circumstances of their particular landlord. As such, privately renting is not just a financial and psychological burden: it is also a crash course in extensive relationship management.

See: putting off getting the boiler fixed because the washing machine was just replaced, and if you ask your landlord for two costly repairs in a row a little switch in their brain might flip your house from “asset” to “albatross”, and they might decide to sell. Or calling a house meeting to collectively draft an unfathomably sycophantic email two months before your contract renewal essentially begging the landlord to grant you and your housemates the great honour of staying in their beautiful property. Sending them flowers, just because. (There is a housing crisis, and you need them to like you enough to ignore the estate agent in their ear telling them they can collect 30% more in monthly rent.)

And yet, at the slightest pressure decency withers and dies. In September, my “good” landlord asked to increase the rent by a small and reasonable amount, in line with rising living costs (no word, of course, about decreasing the rate to mirror real-terms pay cuts). My housemates and I agreed, but requested the increase came into effect after 90 days, according to the terms of the contract we had signed, rather than immediately. The landlord pushed back, with an undertone of aggrievement that we would repay their kindness in such a fashion, and then went quiet. Days later, we were informed our tenancy was ending. By adhering to the only legal protection we had, we’d become an albatross.

Unspoken was the reality that by referencing the vulgar, transactional nature of the landlord/tenant relationship, we had pierced the gossamer veneer of civility. We had reminded our landlord that they were a landlord, and not simply a kind benefactor. It was ungrateful in the face of their generosity. Personal affront sealed our fate.

Where the state has withdrawn, I have noticed an increasing emphasis on interpersonal “decency” to one another, an exhortation to rely on a supposed inherent goodness that will see us all done right by. Perhaps the seeds of this rhetoric were first planted by David Cameron’s vision of a “big society”, which involved the cutting down of actual society, via slashed public spending, and its replacement with voluntarism. There is a cultural emphasis on being “kind” in lieu of solid legislative frameworks and state safety nets to catch us when we fall.

Often, it is those people with the most material power who preach this doctrine: at the height of the Covid-19 pandemic, the then chancellor, Rishi Sunak, was instructing the public to practise “kindness” and “decency”, and later refusing to overhaul statutory sick pay. Wealthy celebrities and influencers wield the phrase “Be kind” like a get-out-of-jail-free card at the slightest hint of criticism. And there is a reliance on the individual compassion of the likes of landlords, in order to keep a roof over our heads. This “kindness” is a myth: it is bondage of a feudal nature, an exercise in massaging the egos – or should that be the consciences? – of those with assets and access in the hope that they will continue to patronise the rest of us.

Unfortunately, this vague folk concept of “kindness” disappears as soon as those at the top of the totem pole feel a squeeze; see landlords en masse increasing rental rates in line with their own living costs, never mind that some aren’t even grappling with higher mortgage repayments and have more than enough of a financial cushion from the properties they let out.

It is understandable in times of crisis: a scarcity mindset becomes particularly sharp. The perception of being harder up, however, means kindness falls by the wayside. Self-preservation kicks in, and damn objectivity when it comes to assessing actual power dynamics.

“It’s been a very difficult time for landlords, too,” my friend was told earlier this year, after a rent increase on her mouse-infested flat. The landlord in question collects income from 11 properties. Under the decency doctrine, everyone’s suffering is equal.

Keep your kindness. I would rather have housing security or the ability to easily book a GP appointment without relying on a sympathetic receptionist’s pity when I turn up at the surgery in tears at 8am. “Decency” without the backing of robust welfare and legislative infrastructure is nothing but a farce, existing to alleviate the guilt of the haves in relation to the have-nots. It is a finite resource. The UK, it seems, is close to running on empty.

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brettforrestnews · 2 years ago

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Bracing for US sanctions, Russian financier in Budapest was busy securing personal offshore assets, leaked documents reveal

Bracing for US sanctions, the Budapest-based, Russian-led International Investment Bank’s (IIB) former head planned to move his offshore assets from tax havens in the British Isles to Dubai.

Until April 12, 2023, it looked as though Nikolay Kosov, former chairman of the Russian-dominated International Investment Bank (IIB) in Budapest, had avoided the fate of many other influential and wealthy Russians—i.e. getting sanctioned by the United States. However, he knew that his situation could change at any time and so, late last year, took steps to ensure that he did not lose his accumulated wealth of some £14 million, or almost €16 million.

According to internal bank documents obtained by , Kosov and his family planned to move their assets, held in tax havens in the British Isles, to Dubai in the United Arab Emirates. He and his wife had been corresponding with an investment adviser in Dubai and an accountant in Jersey who had been handling their offshore company affairs for decades. This all happened as Kosov’s workplace, IIB, was already in a critical financial situation and trying to fight bankruptcy.

Since then, events around the bank have accelerated. On April 12, not only Kosov himself but also IIB were placed on a US Treasury sanctions list. The next day, the last European ally of the Russian financial institution, Hungary, announced to quit the bank. Subsequently, IIB decided to leave Hungary and move its headquarters back to Moscow.

The bank has been in a constant state of crisis since Russia’s attack on Ukraine last year, managing both to become undesirable in the West and to some clear support from the Russian state. In this situation, the Hungarian government remained one of the last supporters of the Budapest-based financial institution. ( has previously published a detailed article on this based on hundreds of IIB’s leaked internal documents).

Among these documents were emails and attachments that shed insight into the private assets of Nikolay Kosov and his family. They also show that, during this turbulent period, Kosov lost his job as head of IIB, as he was not re-elected as acting chairman, and that the IIB tried to hide this information from the public.

Kosov may have been using offshore companies since the 1990s. There is evidence of this from years ago: in the offshore leak known as the Panama Papers, found dozens of documents featuring correspondence between Kosov’s family and their accountant. These documents revealed that, around 2015, the family had at least six offshore companies operating, all founded in the 2000s. Through these offshore companies, the Kosovs owned properties, mainly in London. The Jersey accountant whose name appears in the Panama Papers is the same one who helped the Kosovs late last year.

The plans to move the assets to Dubai are probably linked to the change of geopolitical situation due to the war. Andrea Binder, a German political scientist who studies offshore business, told that Dubai is still doing business with Russian investors who have been excluded from some of the world’s other major financial centers. Moreover, Dubai also offers a safe haven from Western sanctions.

Nikolay Kosov is a prominent member of the Russian financial elite, having served on the boards of several banks, a career path that his son Pavelfollowed. The family also has a KGB background: Nikolay Kosov’s parents were members of the top elite of Russian intelligence. His father, for example, was a KGB liaison in Budapest in the 1970s. Because of this, Kosov spent his youth in Hungary before returning to Budapest in 2019 as IIB’s chairman of the management board.

Before publishing this article, we have sent requests for comment to the IIB, Hungary’s foreign ministry, Nikolay Kosov and Natalya Kosova, the Kosovs’ Jersey accountant, as well as their Dubai-based financial advisors, but none of them replied.

14 million pounds sterling

On 15 December 2022, IIB’s management and Nikolay Kosov, whose term as chairman of the IIB had expired, received really bad news: the director-general of the Belgian Treasury informed them that the funds they had frozen would not be released. He justified this by saying that several members of the IIB’s governing bodies were linked to the Russian government, specifically mentioning the Russian deputy finance minister, who is a member of the bank’s board of governors.

The devastating effects of the decision were detailed in an internal briefing for the bank’s management. It said that, in 2022, the IIB had used up almost all its liquidity reserves, so that if it did not have access to funds, the bank would face insolvency or would have to restructure bonds in May 2023. According to the document, the bank was facing a cash shortage so severe that it could not make up for it even by selling the loan portfolio. In the days that followed, bank staff corresponded about what could be done about the situation, including the possibility that the bank would have to leave the EU.

But Nikolay Kosov’s attention was on something else: he was taking steps, with the help of his wife, to move his private assets to Dubai.

This is shown indocuments that are among the internal IIB files originating from a 2023 February leak. Among the hundreds of emails and other documents, mainly about the bank’s internal affairs, there are some that do not concern the bank’s business, but rather Nikolay Kosov and his family. The reason for this is presumably that Kosov also used his work email address for this purpose, and his wife at least forwarded a number of private correspondence to it.

The wife, Natalya Kosova, was, íon December 6, already in touch with an investment adviser named Anton Ionov, who was working in the United Arab Emirates and with whom the Kosovs were about to sign a contract. Kosova also sent a draft of this contract to her Swiss lawyer and her Jersey accountant, Jackie Ollerenshaw. The latter made a few comments on the draft, one of which reveals that the family may have owned two Jersey-based trusts and a company registered in the British Virgin Islands.

Other leaked documents suggest that the Kosovs were planning to transfer some or all of their assets to the United Arab Emirates. In a document dated December 27, Kosov declares that his assets were legally acquired and that he qualifies as a so-called politically exposed person (PEP), also reveals that such a declaration was necessary to set up a Dubai-based foundation called the Froxa Foundation. The text says that the capital of the foundation, which will be registered with the Dubai International Financial Centre (DIFC), will be paid in by Kosov.

Another document, which the file name suggests is dated December 14, 2022, also sheds light on how much money could be involved. This document is a so-called KYC, or “Know Your Client” form, which is designed to help financial service providers find out about their clients’ financial backgrounds to make sure their assets come from clean sources. The form, which is among the leaked documents, says that Natalya Kosova will be the prospective beneficial owner. The scanned, hand-filled document shows that Kosova is a Russian citizen, but also a Swiss resident and has a Swiss tax number. Handwritten notes on the paper also say that the “total asset value [is] approx[imately] £14 million” (almost €16 million). The source of the assets is described as “from existing trust structure in Jersey” and “c.v. of husband enclosed.”

The Dubai-based wealth management firm mentioned in several documents is M/HQ, which, among other things, provides wealth management services for wealthy families and specifically recommends the creation of trusts to manage family assets smoothly, to control inheritance, and to provide asset protection against “creditors, hostile takeovers.”

It is unclear whether the process has come to an end or is still ongoing, but at the time of publishing, there is no record of the Froxa Foundation or any entities in the name of Kosov or his family members in the Dubai company registers.

Unlike the big Western financial centers and Hong Kong or Singapore, Dubai has not yet stopped doing business with the Russians, so it is logical that money from Russian big investors flows there, Andrea Binder, a Berlin-based political scientist and researcher who has studied the offshore world, among other things, told On the other hand, Kosov could have expected to be subject to sanctions himself sooner or later. As both the British Virgin Islands and Jersey belong to the British Crown, they are not independent of its jurisdiction, Binder explained, adding that Dubai is, so the West’s hand does not reach there as easily.

From earlier investigations, we know that Kosov is no stranger to international investment and has been involved in offshore companies for decades. The huge internal dossier known as the Panama Papers, leaked from the law firm Mossack Fonseca, which set up and ran offshore companies, contains numerous references to Nikolay Kosov. These documents date back to 2015. Some of them contain internal correspondence, and include the name of the same accountant—Jackie Ollerenshaw—who was also one of the Kosovs’s correspondents last December in the leaked IIB documents.

Those older documents from the Panama Papers show, among other things, that in 2015 Kosov had six offshore interests, all registered in the 2000s in the British tax haven of the British Virgin Islands. https://offshoreleaks.icij.org/nodes/13001383 An email from Jackie Ollerenshaw from that time also shows that the offshore companies owned mainly London properties, one of them being used by the “client family” themselves. Others were occupied by tenants.

And in a 2014 email, the accountant mentioned that financial services firms in Jersey— another tax haven—had been handling Kosov’s offshore affairs since 1994. “At all times we have been happy with the information held for him and at no time have any regulatory issues been raised. He has always had the highest respect from service providers here,” wrote Ollerenshaw.

The exact origin of the Kosov family’s wealth, beyond the fact that senior bank executives are usually well paid, is unclear, but it has been previously revealed that they are indeed wealthy. A tabloid scandal in 2007, for example, gave an insight into this. Nikolay Kosov’s son Pavel was getting married at the time, and performers of his Moscow wedding included Mariah Carey (who has sung at multiple private events for Russian oligarchs) and Hollywood actor Mickey Rourke. However, Rourke drank too much vodka, became aggressive and was thrown out of the wedding party, according to media reports.

Kosov didn’t leave at his own will

At the end of last year, Nikolay Kosov had the headache not only of relocating his offshore assets, but also of losing his senior position at IIB. His mandate as bank chairman expired on September 17, 2022 and, according to the bank’s official website, no one has taken his place since then. The IIB has not made any public announcement about Kosov’s departure or his successor.

News of Kosov’s disappearance from IIB reached last year, when we asked the bank when and for what reason Kosov left the bank’s leadership. “In accordance with the Statutory Documents of IIB the term of the mandate of the Chairperson of the Management Board ended on September 17, 2022. Appointment of a new Chairperson lies within the responsibilities of the Board of Governors. The Bank shall await a decision on that matter. Until then responsibilities inside IIB are divided between existing members of the Management Board,” the bank wrote in response to our request at the time.

The leaked documents show that there were attempts by IIB’s management to keep Kosov as head of the bank, but these were unsuccessful. Indeed, at last year’s IIB board of governors meeting, Kosov, whose mandate starting in 2012 had expired, was to be re-elected as acting chairman for another two years. However, the proposal was defeated by opposition from Bulgaria, the Czech Republic, Romania and Slovakia, which announced their withdrawal from the bank because of the war in Ukraine.

According to a December 2022 document—minutes of a meeting of the board of governors—Russia, Hungary, Cuba, Mongolia and Vietnam voted in favor of Kosov’s re-election, while the four countries that left voted against it. Although this still gave Kosov 68.5 percent of the vote, the bank’s rules required a three-quarters qualified majority. Kosov’s unsuccessful re-election follows a letter last September in which Romania formally indicated that it did not want a Russian president at the helm of the bank. “That statement by Romania is racist. They […] are against anyone who has a Russian nationality. I find it utterly disgusting, and unfortunately not surprising,” IIB’s chief financial officer Elliott Auckland commented on Romania’s position.

According to internal emails from September, bank staff then wondered whether they could hide the fact that there was no bank chairman, or if they had to make the news public. According to the correspondence, the bank was aware that this news would have a negative impact on the bank’s financial prospects. “We didn’t just change our CEO but failed to elect a new one,” a senior Russian IIB official wrote. “From the point of view of corporate governance it should be considered as a major event. However, I propose to avoid the announce of the event, if there is no direct obligations,” wrote another staff member.

“It looks horrible for us. If we don’t have to legally publish, I am against publishing. We will create a media storm most likely, and ratings will come under pressure at a sensitive time. Our task is to not draw attention to ourselves, and quietly manage our problems,” argued Elliott Auckland. One of the bank’s Hungarian managers agreed with him and urged others to remain silent. “If we announce, there will be noise around us again. It is not good for our rating discussion,” he wrote.

KGB family

According to the leaked files, a formal document was forwarded to Kosov from the bank on November 28, informing him of the cancellation of his powers as bank chairman. Kosov wrote that he needed this to remove himself and his wife from the list of diplomats accredited to Budapest. This list is maintained by the Hungarian Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Trade (MFA) and includes persons with full diplomatic immunity. These are the people who, under the Vienna Convention on Diplomatic Relations, enjoy a number of advantages when traveling, shopping (tax exemption) and, most importantly, have immunity from investigations and criminal proceedings in the host country.

When the IIB’s headquarters relocated from Moscow to Hungary, the biggest controversy was caused by the fact that the Orbán government would have granted the institution and its staff extensive diplomatic immunity. The United States and other NATO allies feared that the IIB’s diplomatic immunity could have been used to allow Russia to deploy intelligence officers in Budapest. has previously revealed that the Orbán government, bowing to US pressure, eventually agreed to a compromise to limit the diplomatic privileges granted to the bank.

No concrete information has been published on the active relationship between the IIB and Russian intelligence, but the institution is often referred to as a “spy bank” in Hungarian and international media. Apart from the controversy surrounding diplomatic immunities, the main reason for this is the family background of Kosov himself: the former bank chairman’s parents were members of the Soviet Union’s intelligence elite and spied, among other places, in the United States. Kosov’s mother, Yelena Kosova, was officially the first female Soviet diplomat at the Soviet mission to the UN in New York—unofficially, she in fact helped steal US nuclear secrets.

Kosov’s father, Nikolay Kosov Sr., worked alongside her as a Soviet newspaper correspondent in New York, but he was in fact a spy too. Later, when the 1956 revolution was crushed, Kosov was part of a KGB task force sent to Hungary. KGB chief Ivan Serov directed agents to Budapest who, because of their previous Western contacts, could be involved in uncovering the alleged Western conspiracy behind the Hungarian revolution. Later, in the 1970s, Kosov Sr. became the KGB’s liaison officer in Budapest, so Kosov Jr. also spent his youth in Hungary.

Nikolay Kosov Jr. later became a diplomat himself in the 1980s at the Soviet Union’s embassy in London, where he worked—and became friends—with Andrey Kostin, who influenced him to switch to banking. As has previously reported, Kostin, a leading figure in the Russian financial elite, became chairman of Vneshekonombank and later VTB Bank (formerly Vneshtorgbank), while maintaining a close working relationship with the Kosov family. In 1998, for example, he took Nikolay Kosov as first vice-president of Vneshekonombank and then, as head of VTB, became the boss of Nikolay Kosov’s son, Pavel Kosov, who also became vice-president.

Pavel Kosov is not on any Western sanctions lists, but, as of October 2022, he is under sanctions by Ukraine’s National Security Council and its anti-corruption authority. Pavel Kosov is under sanctions because of his position as a state official—he is currently CEO of Russian state-owned agricultural lender Rosagroleasing. He was personally received and praised by Vladimir Putin in the Kremlin last June for the work of Rosagroleasing, including how they are helping to replace European imports.

Nikolay Kosov was exempt from Western sanctions until April 12, when the Treasury of the United States placed him on the sanctions list along with the IIB and two of its executives. This means that if the former bank chairman had any movable or real estate property in the US, he would no longer have access to it, nor would he be allowed to do business with US persons or entities.

Kosov was added to the US sanctions list despite the fact that he has not been officially a bank chairman since September last year. But it is not at all clear what his current role is, and internal emails show that he was still using his official bank email address at the end of last year.

Moreover, in the aforementioned document in which Kosov was asked to reply to the Dubai wealth adviser on whether he was a politically exposed person, he made contradictory statements about his own position. In one place, he referred to no longer holding a high position at the IIB, and in the next line he described himself as an active bank chairman.

In addition to Kosov, last Wednesday the IIB was separately placed on the US sanctions list. The decision was announced at a press conference by US Ambassador to Hungary David Pressman, who described the IIB as a tool for Moscow to increase its influence in Hungary and the region.

The day after the announcement, the Hungarian government announced that Hungary would also leave the bank—the last of the EU member states to do so. In response to this, the IIB announced on April 19 that it would leave Budapest and move its headquarters back to Russia, as its operations had become impossible.

#Russian #US #Dubai #IIB #financial #news #finance news

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denhanuk · 8 months ago

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#Guaranteed Rent Letting Agents London #Private Property Management London

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victorianchap · 2 years ago

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🔸The White Hart pub, White Hart Court, Greenfield Street, London taken 1880s. In 1636 John Greene leased the property on the site of what was later to be the Stag Brewhouse and Brewery. He was succeeded in 1641 by his son, William - later Sir Greene - who built the brewhouse and took his cousin, John Greene into partnership in 1646. John Greene built another brewery at Kensington Gravel pits, London. The brewhouse expanded, the partnership owning over 16 acres by the end of the 18th century. The Watney family were the main partners in the Stag Brewery of Pimlico for much of the 19th century. In 1837 James Watney became a partner in the brewery with John Lettsom Elliot and Charles Lambert, as later did his sons James and Norman in 1856. The brewery was known as Elliot, Watney & Co from about 1849. John L. Elliot withdrew from the business in 1850 and for 8 years remained a partner in name only. He finally retired in 1858 and the firm became known as James Watney & Co. James Watney then kept the management almost entirely to himself until his death, at well over eighty years, in 1884. After his death in 1884 Watney & Co Ltd. became a private limited company in 1885. #victorianchaps #goodolddays #oldphoto #victorian #london🇬🇧 #pub #bar #nostalgia #vintage #streetlife #pastlives #portrait #history #1880s #retro https://www.instagram.com/p/CpdY5D7DJ34/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#victorianchaps #goodolddays #oldphoto #victorian #london🇬🇧#pub #bar #nostalgia #vintage #streetlife #pastlives #portrait #history #1880s #retro

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revenessa · 1 year ago

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This story continues where the second season ends.

In the quiet heart of Soho, amidst the timeless rhythm of London streets, lived an angel that despite the celestial nature of his being, carried his life as a human. Mr. Azira Fell had forgotten he was an angel. His real name, his past, his angelical memories—all was wiped clean.

In the bustling heart of Mayfair, amidst the eternal chaos of London's streets, resided a demon who, despite his infernal origins, embraced life as a mere mortal. Mr. Anthony J. Crowley had forgotten he was a demon. His true name, his dark past, his infernal memories—all had been erased from his consciousness.

Mr. Fell, as he was known, was a man of quiet habits and impeccable taste. His life revolved around his dusty bookshop, a treasure trove filled with rare tomes and antiquities. The shop had been his inheritance from his grandfather, and like his predecessor, Aziraphale chose to live in the cozy flat above the bookshop. Here, among the pages of ancient books, he found solace.

Despite owning one of the most extensive privately-owned collections of books of predictions, Wilde first editions and the complete set of the Infamous Bibles, rivalling the likes of Andrew Carnegie and Biltmore House, Aziraphale barely earned enough to make ends meet. He stubbornly refused to part with any of his cherished treasures. Fortunately, he had inherited not only the bookshop but also several neighbouring properties, which provided a substantial income in rent, considering his rather expensive tastes.

Mr. Azira Fell was a man of refined sensibilities, evident in his choice of attire. He dressed in a classic style, donning jackets, vests, and bow ties that required the utmost care in hand washing. A gold pocket watch and a neatly folded handkerchief were his constant companions, a testament to his attention to detail. He indulged himself with visits to some of London's finest restaurants, regardless of the exorbitant prices. And he couldn't resist the occasional short journey to acquire a new literary treasure.

He was unmarried, and could use his money in whichever he pleased. With a keen eye for detail, he meticulously managed his finances, relying on his trusty outdated and slow, computer, which was still ideal for the small businessman. Aziraphale's scrupulous record-keeping had attracted the scrutiny of tax authorities on no fewer than five occasions.

He read, wrote, listened to his classical music, and occasionally he ate out at the best restaurants of London. One could think he had everything he wanted, and he had it.

Though he often portrayed a warm smile and endeavoured to do good whenever he could, beneath the calm and content surface of his existence lay a profound loneliness. Mr. Fell had never experienced the joys of love, nor had love ever found its way to him. There lingered within him a vague memory of a stolen kiss, but he couldn't discern the recipient's identity, leading him to conclude it was a passage from one of his cherished novels—a memory that belonged to someone else.

In the midst of this melancholic existence, Aziraphale had developed a peculiar routine. He had grown to detest the customers who ventured into his quaint bookshop, seeing them as unwelcome intrusions into his solitary haven. In an ironic twist, he seemed to make every effort to scare them away.

He would greet them with an air of indifference, his warm smile replaced by a stoic expression. If asked for assistance, he'd offer a curt reply, often steering them toward the more obscure and inaccessible sections of the shop. The most daring customers who dared to inquire about the prices of his cherished tomes were met with a disdainful, eye-popping quote, designed to make them reconsider their literary ambitions Mr. Fell had mastered the art of customer dissuasion.

But the most tormenting aspect of his life was Azira couldn’t sleep. His heart ached with an indescribable longing. It was as if he were searching for a piece of himself or someone that had been lost to time, a yearning he couldn't quell no matter how many books he read.

Each night, he randomly selected a book, retreating to the dimly lit room above the bookshop. There, he sought solace in the act of reading, attempting to distract his restless mind. And when, at last, Mr. Fell's weary eyes drifted closed, the shadows brought with them a sad sight— the golden, slanted eyes that watched him with a sorrowful gaze. These eyes were the key to the enigma that consumed him, the memories that slipped through his grasp, and an inexplicable ache he couldn't define. It wasn't a nightmare; it was a mystery—a puzzle begging to be solved, tugging at the very corners of his soul.

He knew he had forgotten something crucial, something that had once defined his very existence. But what was it? And why did those eyes visit him every night?

As he drifted further into the depths of forgetfulness, Mr. Fell couldn't escape the nagging suspicion that there was more to this life, more to himself, than he could comprehend.

In the bustling heart of Mayfair, amidst the eternal chaos of London's streets, resided a demon who, despite his infernal origins, faced life as a mere mortal. Mr. Anthony J. Crowley had forgotten he was a demon. His true name, his dark past, his infernal memories—all had been erased from his consciousness.

Professor Anthony J. Crowley, known for his biting wit and sarcastic demeanor, was a man who walked a fine line between anger and optimism. At fifty, he still dressed impeccably, his attire reflecting the swagger that was a hallmark of his identity. His sleek, ginger hair showed no signs of grey, and he maintained a physique that defied his age. This well-preserved appearance added to his self-perceived image of a fearsome villain.

Living alone in a flat that exuded style, Crowley seemed to have it all. It was the quintessential bachelor pad: spacious, white, elegantly furnished with priceless masterpieces, and with a designer's touch that gave it an unlived-in appearance that only comes from scrupulous cleanliness and order. The bed was always perfectly made, the fridge consistently stocked with gourmet food that he rarely consumed. Instead, he preferred to drown his sorrows in alcohol, as if trying to fill a void left by a love he couldn't remember. To this end, he kept a meticulously curated selection of the finest wines and a well-stocked arsenal of liqueurs.

The lounge area boasted a massive television, a sleek white leather sofa, a video player, a laserdisc player, and a square matte black sound system. Crowley took pride in his collection of soul discs, considering them his personal trophies. He also possessed a refined selection of horror novels, though they remained largely untouched. While he owned a computer, it served as little more than a decorative piece, a symbol of his modernity, with sporadic use limited to checking stock market updates.

The only things in the apartment that brought him some sort of enjoyment were the houseplants. Towering and verdant, they stood as a testament to his ability to nurture something other than alcohol. Their shiny, healthy leaves reflected the only sense of order he had ever embraced.

As much as he enjoyed the comfort and style of his flat, Crowley couldn't shake the feeling that it was not truly his home. The memories that occasionally brushed against the edges of his consciousness hinted at a life beyond these four walls—a life that he had forgotten, but one that continued to elude him. There was a pervasive sense of displacement, a nagging sensation that something vital was missing from his existence.

Beyond the walls of his meticulously designed flat, Crowley worked as an associate professor in the department of Physics and Astronomy at University College London (UCL). He delivered lectures three days a week and reluctantly provided doctoral tutoring on the other two. However, students who dared to choose him as a tutor were scarce. Among the astronomy department, he was the most feared figure, known for his relentless pursuit of perfection and a penchant for merciless corrections. His trademark phrase, "Learn better," echoed through the hallowed halls as he passed by, striking terror into the hearts of aspiring astronomers.

Crowley's approach to teaching was unique, to say the least. He was always willing to explain concepts to his students, but he demanded nothing less than excellence. His exams were renowned for their level of difficulty, and failing one of his tests meant more than just a bad grade—it could jeopardize a student's entire academic career. The fear of Crowley, more than the fear of any deity, hung heavy in the lecture hall. His position at the university was not born of necessity but rather served as a distraction from the solitude that engulfed him.

One of the defining aspects of his threatening appearance was his perpetually hidden eyes, concealed behind dark sunglasses. He had a rare sensitivity to light and was mostly color-blind, confined to a world of blue and yellow for what felt like centuries. Wearing sunglasses, even when unnecessary, served as a precaution to shield the world from his monstrous, deformed pupils. Anthony couldn't help but ponder why he was different from everyone else.

Despite his intimidating exterior, Crowley had a soft spot for his vintage Bentley. Anthony would run his fingers over the steering wheel, feeling a connection to it that he couldn't explain. The sleek, black vehicle was his pride and joy, a symbol of both his love for the open road and his disdain for inefficiency. He meticulously maintained the car, treating it with a tenderness that he rarely displayed toward anything else. The purr of the engine, the feel of the leather seats, and the rush of wind through open windows were his solace in a world that often left him feeling adrift.

From all outward appearances, Professor Anthony J. Crowley seemed content, possessing everything his heart could desire. Yet, beneath the surface, he grappled with a profound emptiness.

Anthony was never hungry; food held little allure. Instead he drank, too much, as he was painfully aware of the loneliness that loomed over him.

Love had never graced his life, nor had he ever truly loved anyone. Despite this, the faintest echoes of love seemed to haunt his memories, he always blamed the romantic comedies he watched for planting foreign memories in his mind. Still, the ache persisted—the emptiness that gnawed at his heart each night as he sought answers in the darkness.

Crowley's nights were plagued by a sense of emptiness that alcohol could never fill, but once alcohol lulled his mind to sleep, he found solace in a pair of kind and loving blue eyes that watched over him in the dark. These eyes were a gift, fuelling the fragile optimism that at some point he would come out on top; that the universe would look after him and everything would be better.

#aziraphale #crowley #fanfiction #fluff #good omens kiss #good-omens #ineffable husbands #good omens

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constance-emmeline · 1 year ago

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The Countess and the Marchioness’ Maid

Preface

This overview of the English social class system may enhance your enjoyment of this story:

Unless you are:

 The Monarch, King or Queen ruling over all [Address: Your Majesty]; or a

 Duke or Duchess [Your Grace]; or a

 Marquis or Marchioness [Your Grace]; or an

 Earl (or Count) or Countess [My Lord or My Lady or Your Ladyship]; or a

 Viscount or Viscountess [My Lord or My Lady or Your Ladyship]; or a

 Baron or Baroness [My Lord or My Lady or Your Ladyship]

You are a commoner.

Note: The only ranks featured in this story and its sequel are Marchioness and Countess.

Here’s the story!

At just twenty-five years of age, Felicity, known as ‘Lissy’ to those close to her has become a Marchioness ... and her life-long friend … since private and finishing school ... a Countess.

The Countess is spending the summer at the Marchioness' country estate.

The Marchioness employs a number of staff - of course - to run an establishment of this size: a Housekeeper, Cook, two Housemaids, two Chamber Maids, a general Apprentice reporting to the Housekeeper and a 'Personal Maid' whose main purpose is to act as a companion, confidante - and friend - to the Marchioness.

The estate grounds - which include a church, purchased by her late dowager aunt ten years ago from the Church of England for a token sum of one pound - are managed by a contractor. The Marchioness realises she should appoint a Business Manager in the near future to manage the activities of this contractor, as well as assist her with her properties in London and France and her other business interests and investments.

In these elevated circles, it is expected - and accepted - that a Personal Maid is a life-long appointment. Of course, at least since the late twentieth century it was accepted that a maid may marry - bear children, even - but the level of commitment remained the same: for life.

It was also clearly understood that under no circumstances whatsoever should any sexual activity take place between mistress and maid because it was felt that this might constitute an abuse of power. Sexual relationships between women and the holding of confidential information on a wide range of business and personal subjects were never a good mix and in particular, the Courts were very loth indeed to become entangled in trying to rule on such matters. Let alone the almost infinite possibilities for unpleasant conflict such issues could cause.

The Marchioness of course understood and happily accepted that - like herself - her Personal Maid enjoyed certain sexual proclivities and that in recent months appeared to particularly flourish in the company of the Countess. The Marchioness resolved to support this relationship ... for both the Countess, Letitia – known as ‘Tish’ to her friends and family – her friend and her Personal Maid, Amanda ... just twenty-one years of age now. No one had any wish to shorten Amanda’s elegant Christian name.

And so, as the sun set on another lovely July evening, the Countess - as was her wont - took herself to one of her favourite areas in the grounds offering a quiet and peaceful view across much of the Marchioness' estate.

The Countess had enjoyed a bottle of Chablis and as the light started to fail, became aware of the approach of the Marchioness' Personal Maid. She stood up to greet the Maid.

The immaculately dressed Maid carried a wicker basket containing a syphon of soda water, two cut glasses and a small bottle of brandy from the Marchioness' cellar. The Maid had also bought a shawl for each of them, should the evening turn cool.

"Your Ladyship?"

"Amanda?"

"Your Ladyship, Her Grace felt that you might enjoy some refreshment and for me to then assist you in returning to the house or if you prefer, to your room?"

"Thank you, Amanda" replied the Countess.

The Maid's white lace trimmed pinafore and black silk dress rustled gently over her white nylon lace trimmed petticoat as she poured a glass of brandy and soda for each of them.

Both ladies sat down and the Maid noticed - as she drew her hand across the Countess' thigh after she handed the Countess her glass - how smoothly the Countess' dress moved over the petticoat beneath.

Instinctively, both ladies sat closer. Both were aware how much they enjoyed each other's company - and it was not lost on either of them that the Marchioness may have engineered this opportunity for them to spend some time together.

They sat quietly, enjoying the moment. The Maid replenished the glasses a second time and they smiled at one another.

After forty-five minutes or so, the drink consumed, the Maid suggested she help the Countess back to her room? The Maid packed up the basket carefully, including the empty Chablis bottle and glass and offered the Countess her right arm.

"Amanda" ... "Your Ladyship" ... and that was all that needed to be said as the Countess took the Maid's arm and they slowly made their way to the Countess' bedroom on the second floor of the west wing of the house, visiting the ladies’ room on the ground floor as they went.

Once there ... inside the room ... the Maid's basket carefully placed to one side, with the unworn shawls too ... they stood and looked at one another.

The Countess offered an enigmatic smile and the Maid smiled back.

It was evident the Countess wished the Maid to stay ... and the Countess reached to close the door ... and lock it shut.

For the first time, the Countess made a pass at the Maid, reaching out her arms to offer an embrace ... and to her delight it was accepted!

The Maid sighed her pleasure and the two women embraced ... the Countess' arms around the Maid's shoulders, her beautifully manicured fingers feeling the Maid's bra straps ... the Maid's arms around the Countess' waist, feeling her bottom ... feeling how the Countess' dress moved so freely ... sensuously ... over her petticoat.

Both ladies started to wet themselves with clear viscous secretions from their sexual organs as they were overcome with carnal lust and sexual desire, fuelled by their love for each other which had become firmly established by now.

Each felt their vulva swell and sensuously fill their knickers at their crotch; each felt their breasts swell similarly, firming so comfortably into their bra cups as their nipples hardened too.

"Please help me take off my dress, Amanda?" asked the Countess and she then assisted the Maid likewise with her pinafore and dress.

They stood quietly now, facing the other.

They looked so lovely in their pretty white petticoats - white nylon lace trimmed full slips each with adjustable ribbon shoulder straps and falling below their knees - and other matching underwear.

The Countess wanted to reassure the Maid and so offered her right hand to the Maid and her heart rate increased further as her hand was gently, so gently taken by the Maid's left hand in acceptance.

"May I?" asked the Countess as she stepped forward and still holding the Maid's hand, tenderly kissed each of the Maid's cheeks.

"And now to bed?" suggested the Countess, releasing the Maid's hand, peeling back the duvet and indicating the Maid should make herself comfortable.

"Your Ladyship" replied the Maid, dutifully, respectfully and compliantly lying in the bed.

The Countess thought how lovely ... pretty ... the Maid looked ... in her pretty white lace trimmed petticoat and told her so, bending to kiss the Maid's forehead ... before walking around the bed, getting in and making herself comfortable, lying on the Maid's right and then pulled up the duvet.

The Countess felt - quite rightly - that she had seduced the Maid into her lesbian love nest.

"Oh, Amanda!" whispered the Countess.

"Your Ladyship!" responded the Maid as she began to make some very precocious advances while the two women continued to make themselves comfortable beneath the duvet ... so happy now, together.

"Amanda!" exclaimed the Countess as the Maid reached inside the Countess' petticoat and on, to stroke her thighs and stocking tops ... teasing the Countess by pulling at them ... as well as the Countess' suspender straps ... then interfering with the Countess' knickers in a delightfully meddlesome and quite provocative way ... and then as the Countess knew the moment to arch her back and lift her buttocks removing them ... delicately ... and with a little flourish.

"Amanda! You tart!" whispered the Countess as the Maid started to edge her labia, quickly finding her clitoris and then very skilfully, generating a clitoral orgasm that left the Countess wriggling in ecstasy and struggling for breath.

The Maid felt she was here to serve the titled lady and continued to manipulate the Countess' vulva before delicately reaching further into the Countess' fanny and stroking her vaginal walls until the 'tell-tale' pulsations came to indicate that an unstoppable vaginal orgasm had been generated.

The Countess knew this too and moaned with pleasure as the Maid stroked her breasts ... how lovely they felt beneath her white lace trimmed slip and bra.

And then, the Countess was consumed by the absolute power of her second orgasm. Her breathing was characterised by her rapid audible intakes of breath, a sound of such sensuous, sexual femininity.

Recovery took place over the next few minutes and the Countess allowed her thoughts to become clearer before starting to make reciprocal advances to the Maid.

With the Maid now resting on her back after her achievement, the Countess placed her left hand on the Maid's right breast. She squeezed it, gently. She stroked it, the Maid issuing a gentle sigh to indicate her pleasure. The fabric and lace trim of the Maid's slip felt so sensuous to the Countess, especially in the way it either rested on or moved so smoothly over the matching underwired bra which nestled prettily beneath. This turned the Maid on further, too.

The Countess enjoyed taking a few moments to then lightly run the nail of her index finger back and forth along the bra cup wire beneath the Maid's breast, which the Maid found incredibly sensuous, so much so that she audibly caught her breath in such a beautiful, feminine sound and also felt that sensuous feeling of becoming really quite wet as she also anticipated the Countess' advances migrating to her vulva and her other sexual organs.

The Maid was not disappointed! The Countess tenderly kissed the Maid's right cheek and moved her hand from the Maid's breast, allowing her fingernails to move down, stroking the Maid's abdomen and causing the Maid to shudder with pleasure and anticipation.

"Amanda" whispered the Countess as she started to gently agitate the fabric of the Maid's slip over the Maid's matching lace trimmed knickers beneath.

The Countess found the way the Maid audibly caught her breath as she experienced such sexual pleasures incredibly attractive and now the Countess enjoyed that sensuous personal experience of becoming wetter herself as her sexual organs discharged the characteristic viscous fluid into her now knicker-less crotch as her body and mind responded to the sexual stimulus she continued to receive.

"Oh, Your Ladyship!" intoned the Maid as the Countess stroked her thighs, catching her breath with delight at how her slip felt so sensuous as the Countess stroked its sumptuous white nylon fabric, agitating and drawing it gently across the fabric of her black nylon stockings.

The Maid then shuddered with pleasure as she felt the lace trimmed hem of her slip being lifted - so tenderly - as the Countess prepared to reach towards the Maid's vulva.

The time had come for the Countess to tease the Maid ... as the Maid had teased her ... by precociously pulling gently at the Maid's stocking tops and suspender straps: and to then titillate the Maid - as the Maid had titillated her - by stroking the Maid's vulva beneath her knickers; tugging gently at her knicker elastic and in a tender, unhurried manner making it quite clear to the Maid that her knickers would soon need to be removed.

And so, they were!

"Amanda, your knickers, now, please!" whispered the Countess as she continued to gently manipulate, stroke and stimulate the Maid's vulva: indeed, the Countess could already feel how moist the crotch of the Maid's knickers had become as the Maid committed to their sexual intercourse together.

"Of course, Your Ladyship" responded the Maid, obligingly arching her back and marvelling at the Countess' dexterity and speed in the manner of how her, the Maid's knickers were taken from her, almost imperceptibly, in just a moment – even more skilfully than the Maid had relieved the Countess of hers.

The Maid now knew she would be fucked by a titled lady and sighed her compliance, indeed submission ... complete submission, anticipation and pleasure. The Maid wriggled involuntarily with sexual excitement as she realised that she, a commoner was the sole subject of this female aristocrat.

The Countess also knew that the Maid expected to get fucked, now and having thrown the Maid's knickers from the bed, resolved to give as best she could ... to this pretty, fair-haired, blue-eyed girl ... and started to feel, to 'edge' the Maid's distended 'flaps' of her labia ... the majora and minora forming the petals of such a pretty flower!

The Maid gasped with delight and pleasure and as the Countess accessed her clitoris, gasped again ... and once more as she felt the inevitable orgasm ... her first at the fingers of the Countess ... start rising from her prettily manicured toes ... the 'Fire of Venus' lighting up her pelvis ... her fingers, manicured in matching gloss pearlescent pink tingling, her blood running cold (so sensually!) in her arms and shoulders as her blood supply was drawn to service her sexual organs.

And then, as she climaxed, the Maid caught her breath once more.

The Countess granted the Maid little recovery time as her glossily polished red finger nails continued to work the Maid's fanny ... to fuck her properly ... to 'really give her one' ... to screw the Maid.

Upon entry of the Countess' fingers into the Maid's vagina, already quite dilated by this sexual and equally, emotional and loving experience, the Maid shuddered ... and shuddered again ... in rapture ... "Your Ladyship!" she whispered.

The Countess of course felt the Maid start 'to come' before the Maid realised that she would come soon herself. Inevitably, the Maid's vaginal walls responded to the Countess' gentle and sensuous fondling and started to pulsate with such increasing power and frequency that the Countess thought it wise to withdraw her fingers and by this point too, her hand.

The Maid duly came, marking the moment with a series of shuddering, audible intakes of breath, both her feet kicking up the duvet with delight ... as she realised ... accepted ... celebrated that the Countess had fucked her ... and over the next two minutes, as the orgasm - this fantastic disruption to her sexual organs and consciousness - naturally faded away ... how turned on was she still by the fact that she had been fucked while wearing (most of!) her lovely, favourite underwear: fucked in her petticoat, an item of clothing still considered by many to represent the ultimate expression of femininity.

The Countess kissed the Maid and stroked her breasts. She fucked the Maid in this manner four times more over the next two hours. The Maid was beyond ecstatic. “Your Ladyship!” she whispered from time to time, “Oh, Your Ladyship!!” and was so turned on each time the Countess told her she was such a tart!

But the Maid was also tiring. She fought to compose herself and marshal a commensurate response.

She remembered a snatch of conversation she’d heard a while back. It was in the Marchioness’ private parlour. There was a visitor called Tabatha, who was always so kind to Amanda: always bought her chocolates and at Christmas, she’d given Amanda two sumptuous full slips with built up shoulders: one in white and another Tabatha described as ivory. The Maid only wore them on Sundays. They were longer than the petticoats she wore otherwise and the Maid loved how their lace trimmed hems showed beneath her dresses and how content and feminine she felt in consequence.

It was evident to Amanda that the Marchioness and Tabatha were not just friends, but almost certainly lovers – or had been previously. They were talking about a medieval lesbian technique known as ‘The Butterfly’ where one lover would gently describe a circle with a finger-tip on the vaginal walls … first one way, then the other … in a particular area, just below the cervix. It took an incredible level of skill by one party and arousal in the other to drive the degree of vaginal dilation necessary. Pause and repeat. Thing was, receiving party didn’t know when the butterfly might fly again. Held in suspense, longing, so desperate! A classic tease! Sexual torment!

This would start an inexorable pulsation of the vaginal wall which would at first be imperceptible to the receiving party. A skilful lover would feel it first and with it established, with draw their hand and fingers and do other things, anything at all to agitate the receiving party’s sexual organs. Clitoris usually favourite. Once the receiving party felt the pulsation and recognised its increasing frequency, they knew they ‘were in for the ride of a lifetime’ as the pulsations became so close they generated a single muscular response into a massive orgasm, from the feet, hands and head to the receiving woman’s core: the ‘Fire of Venus’ burning!

But this wasn’t all, Tabatha was saying. This invasion and consequent disruption will so agitate the cervix that if that can be reached after the first orgasm has subsided and the receiving party has made some recovery, it only needs ‘just a touch’ to the cervix to generate an orgasm even more powerful than the first.

“If you want more thrill than that, Lissy” Amanda heard Tabatha say, “You need a fucking surgeon – not a lover!” Both women laughed and Amanda discreetly slipped away.

So tonight, this first time in bed together, that is exactly what the exhausted Maid gave to the Countess.

Half an hour or so later, the Countess whispered hoarsely to the Maid: “I am so fucked! Whatever was that you did to me?! Your touch! You fucking tart! You whore! Wherever did you learn to do that shit, you bitch! I love you, Amanda.”

“Your Ladyship” said Amanda. “I love you too. I love it when you ‘talk dirty’ to me, it turns me on so. I’ll do this again if I may and perhaps it will be even better as I gain experience! But I urge you: we must both sleep now … please?”

But the Countess was already asleep, on her back, her breathing slow and even.

Having satisfied herself the Countess was comfortable, the Maid allowed herself to sleep.

Or at least to rest. She slept fitfully. She ached all over. But she felt so fulfilled, so loved. Loved up.

Shortly before daybreak, the Maid awoke and slipped away. The Countess continued to sleep soundly.

The Maid put her dress and pinafore over her arm and left the room as quietly as she could.

As the door clicked and locked shut, the Maid realised to her dismay that not only had she failed to recover the wicker basket with its contents and the shawls, but that she was without her knickers! Shit! She could hardly knock on the door and … assuming that would rouse the sleeping Countess … ask for them back!

She felt like a slutty tart standing there in a state of undress and hurried away to her quarters, thanking providence that hers were secured by combination lock. Once there, she collapsed into her bed, pausing only to set her alarm for 7:30am, an hour later than usual. She couldn’t serve the Marchioness on no sleep, surely! This way, she’d get around three hours: enough … barely … but sufficient!

The Marchioness sensed Amanda’s tiredness. She understood and was pleased. “Take the afternoon and tomorrow off. Perhaps you and Tish would like to have some time together. A picnic in the bottom field, by the spinney? I’ll instruct the area be cleared and secured. As for me, I’ll get Nicola to sort me out!”

“Your Grace” responded Amanda, gratefully. The correct form of address in every circumstance. English aristocrats are completely unimpressed by ‘gushing’ thanks, they know that those who serve them well are appreciative, grateful. They also tend to feel that thanks which seem too fulsome may be insincere. But they do like to be addressed correctly … respect is so important!

As she progressed along the long corridor towards her room, the Maid encountered the Countess unexpectedly.

“I’m wearing your knickers!” said the Countess

“I’m not wearing any knickers at all!” replied the Maid.

“You tart! You shameless hussy! You dirty cow! You’re causing me to make you knickers wet, or should I say even wetter than they were before! You slut! I shall never give you this pair back or ever wash them and I will always keep them safe! I love you so! My room at 7:30pm, Amanda?

“Your Ladyship” replied Amanda, “I look forward to joining you. Her Grace has granted me this evening and tomorrow off … for us to spend time together.”

And so it was. Courtship took off. The Countess sought the Marchioness’ permission to propose marriage to her Maid. Once the Maid understood the Countess had obtained the requisite permission, she accepted immediately.

It was the perfect match.

The Marchioness and the entire estate, Tabatha too were delighted.

The church had not seen such a ceremony of such gaiety for well over one hundred years.

Nor had the estate hosted such a lavish party for so long.

What happens from that point is described in the sequel story “The Marchioness takes a Wife.”

#girls who like girls #lesbian #girls who love girls #girls with girls #women's clothes #women's underwear #women's petticoats #girls kissing girls #lesbian kissing #sapphic

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ruby-red-inky-blue · 2 years ago

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Free AU idea

this has been spooking around in my head for a while but I don’t have time to take it on (plus I have way too many WIPs as is). Besides, I’m pretty self-conscious about writing anything pre-20th century, I always end up way overdoing the “period” dialogue and probably just making it unintentionally absurd. So, if anyone feels like having a go at a Victorian rebelcaptain AU, this is a freebie for anyone who wants it!

(this would need to be set during a period of political upheaval in Mexico - though what with this being the century they gained independence, it shouldn’t be too difficult to make the timeline work. My thought was early-ish into the whole “Napoleon’s nephew is now your emperor we decided” thing, but i’m sure there’s options)

- Jyn was orphaned by [insert shady incident here] at a young age and taken in by her father’s “friend” Lord Krennic

- She’s about to come into a substantial inheritance of some kind from her father when she turns 21

- Krennic plans to get his hands on it by marrying her (either because it’s money or land and he just wants to have it, or because it’s something that would incriminate him. This could be related to Galen’s death, but also just to some horrible thing Krennic did maybe on some colonial property of his or during the Irish Potato Famine etc....).

- it’s not like Jyn to sit put and let this happen even though it would be difficult for her to get away from him, but let’s say she’s tried to escape from his household at least once but he’s always managed to find her, and since he’s a big politician in the House of Lords, he has way too much pull for her to get away on her own

- cue the mysterious aristocrat from overseas who makes an introduction to Krennic because he has discovered silver in Mexico and is now touring London to find investors to finance a mine

- Cassian is of course neither an actual aristocrat nor has he found any silver, he’s actually feeling out a number of members of the British government to find out if they’d be willing to help out in a political issue in Mexico (for example, if this was set between 1864 and 1867, it could be military aid against Napoleon III)

- Jyn finds out but offers to help him if he agrees to help get her away from Krennic. Obviously the easiest and best way to do this would be if he married her and took her on a boat overseas as his wife. Once in America, they could go their separate ways, either just pretending it never happened or by fabricating some reason to file for divorce (”Just say you caught me with some sailor on the boat”), anyway Jyn would be in America with her inheritance and Cassian gets to complete the mission and as a bonus, they both get to screw over Krennic

- Obviously all the fake married tropes play out (even though for this to work, it would probably be easiest for them to actually get married in England), most of all it is vital they spend the entire transatlantic journey fully convinced the other is just holding up their end and definitely cannot wait to be rid of them as soon as they step off the boat

- of course they end up not parting ways when they arrive, this could be the end point or you find some fun contrived reason for why they actually have to stick together just for a few more days (maybe someone travelling with them who got on the boat with them in London and was just *so* charmed by the newlyweds or something)

- bonus points if it ends by either a) one or both of them going off script during the divorce hearing or b) one of them ordering the other a carriage and getting passed by said carriage on the way to their hotel, hurrying to their room to properly break down over it in private and finding the other person still there because they decided last minute not to leave

#yeah this is one of those that i'd LOVE to read but i don't have the energy to write #so have at it! and lmk if you do anything with it :)#period au #victorian au #jyn x cassian #rogue one

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modernerrors · 2 years ago

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The Imaginary World of Feminist Thinking

It’s all about how children are brought up – don’t blame men or society and don’t give praise to Ms Pankhurst, who was simply one more anarchist.

Cleopatra, (Greek: “Famous in Her Father”) in full Cleopatra VII Thea Philopator (“Cleopatra the Father-Loving Goddess”), (born 70/69 BCE—died August 30 BCE, Alexandria), Egyptian queen, famous in history and drama as the lover of Julius Caesar and later as the wife of Mark Antony. She became queen on the death of her father.

Deborah, also spelled Debbora, prophet and heroine in the Old Testament (Judg. 4 and 5), who inspired the Israelites to a mighty victory over their Canaanite oppressors (the people who lived in the Promised Land, later Palestine, that Moses spoke of before its conquest by the Israelites); the “Song of Deborah” (Judg. 5)

Boudicca, also spelled Boadicea or Boudica, (died 60 or 61 CE), ancient British queen who in 60 CE led a revolt against Roman rule.

Boudicca’s husband, Prasutagus, was king of the Iceni (in what is now Norfolk) as a client under Roman suzerainty. When Prasutagus died in 60 with no male heir, he left his private wealth to his two daughters and to the emperor Nero, trusting thereby to win imperial protection for his family. Instead, the Romans annexed his kingdom, humiliated his family, and plundered the chief tribesmen.

Emma of Normandy was the wife of two kings of Anglo-Saxon England – Æthelred the Unready (reigned 978–1016) and Cnut (reigned 1016–1035) – and she was the mother of two other English kings. She was a key political figure in her own right and a major force in the turbulent politics of 11th-century England.

St. Joan of Arc, byname the Maid of Orléans, French Sainte Jeanne d’Arc or La Pucelle d’Orléans, (born c. 1412, Domrémy, Bar, France—died May 30, 1431, Rouen; canonized May 16, 1920; feast day May 30; French national holiday, second Sunday in May), national heroine of France, a peasant girl who, believing that she was acting under divine guidance, led the French army in a momentous victory at Orléans that repulsed an English attempt to conquer France during the Hundred Years’ War.

Science

Caroline Herschel (1750-1848)

Caroline Herschel was born in 1750 in Hannover, Germany, but moved to England with her brother, the astronomer William Herschel, in 1772. She became William’s general assistant and helped him by writing down his observations and helping him produce reflective telescopes. Caroline occupied herself with astronomical theory and mastered algebra and formulae for calculation and conversion as a basis for observing the stars and managing astronomical distances. Caroline joined her brother when he was appointed royal astronomer at the court at Windsor and served him as his scientific assistant. This gave her a salary of 50 pounds per year.

Mary Somerville (1780-1872)

Mary Somerville's first scientific investigations began in the summer of 1825, when she carried out experiments on magnetism. In 1826 she presented her paper entitled "The Magnetic Properties of the Violet Rays of the Solar Spectrum" to the Royal Society.

Literary women brought up in a nurturing household.

Jane Austen, (born December 16, 1775, Steventon, Hampshire, England—died July 18, 1817, Winchester, Hampshire)

Jane Austen was born in the Hampshire village of Steventon, where her father, the Reverend George Austen, was rector. She was the second daughter and seventh child in a family of eight—six boys and two girls. Her closest companion throughout her life was her elder sister, Cassandra; neither Jane nor Cassandra married. Their father was a scholar who encouraged the love of learning in his children. His wife, Cassandra (née Leigh), was a woman of ready wit, famed for her impromptu verses and stories. The great family amusement was acting.

George Eliot, pseudonym of Mary Ann, or Marian, Cross, née Evans, (born November 22, 1819, Chilvers Coton, Warwickshire, England—died December 22, 1880, London), English Victorian novelist who developed the method of psychological analysis characteristic of modern fiction.

Evans was born on an estate of her father’s employer. She went as a boarder to Mrs. Wallington’s School at Nuneaton (1828–32), where she came under the influence of Maria Lewis, the principal governess, who inculcated a strong evangelical piety in the young girl.

The Bronte sisters [brother Branwell also in the picture] were the world’s most famous literary family and Haworth Parsonage, now the Brontė Parsonage Museum, was their home from 1820 to 1861.

Patrick and Maria Bronte had six children (from oldest to youngest): Maria, Elizabeth, Charlotte, Branwell, Emily, and Anne. Soon after Patrick had been appointed to a parish in Haworth, Yorkshire, his wife died, leaving the parson and the young children behind.

Christina Rossetti, in full Christina Georgina Rossetti, pseudonym Ellen Alleyne, (born Dec. 5, 1830, London, Eng.—died Dec. 29, 1894, London), one of the most important of English women poets both in range and quality. She excelled in works of fantasy, in poems for children, and in religious poetry.

Christina was the youngest child of Gabriele Rossetti and was the sister of the painter-poet Dante Gabriel Rossetti.

Art

Catharina or Caterina van Hemessen (1528–after 1565)

Like many of early modernity’s women artists, Catharina van Hemessen was born into an artist family. Her father, Jan Sanders van Hemessen, was a prominent Mannerist painter in Antwerp. While she did paint a few religious-themed works, for the most part, Catharina van Hemessen was a portrait artist.

Artemisia Gentileschi (1593–after 1654)

Like her painter father Orazio Gentileschi, Artemisia Gentileschi was one of the Caravaggisti, followers of Caravaggio. She was born in Rome, where she was trained. Over the course of her career, she also worked in (at least) Florence, Naples, Venice and England.

Louise Moillon (1610–1696)

Born into a family of artists—her father and her stepfather were painters and art dealers, and her brother was a painter—Louise Moillon specialized in still life painting, especially of fruits and vegetables. Her patrons included members of the French nobility, as well as Charles I of England.

Mary Beale (c. 1633–1699)

Mary Beale, née Cradock, was one of the first professional female artists in England. She supported her family with her commissions and as an art teacher. Primarily a portrait artist, Beale painted many of the courtiers of Charles II. Her husband Charles acted as her business partner. His detailed notebooks provide a unique record of his wife’s daily activities, as well as of her business practices and expenses. Beale herself is author of Observations, an unpublished piece of instructional writing on painting.

Lady Gordon

[British Painter, 1772-1867]

Elizabeth Barrett Browning, née Elizabeth Barrett, (born March 6, 1806, near Durham, Durham county, England—died June 29, 1861, Florence, Italy), English poet whose reputation rests chiefly upon her love poems, Sonnets from the Portuguese and Aurora Leigh, the latter now considered an early feminist text. Her husband was Robert Browning.

Christianity

According to Dr. Paul Wesley Chilcote in his 1991 book, John Wesley and the Women Preachers of early Methodism, “Women have proclaimed the good news they discovered in Christ since the earliest periods of the Church’s history. The women preachers of early Methodism hardly represented a new phenomenon in the life of the Christian community…”

There was always plenty of opposition over different ways of preaching for both men and women – all part of Christianity.

Information mainly copied from Britannica.com

#feminist sceptic #women always had choice

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