#S114 notice

[insidecroydon]

Perry's Council Tax increases to reach 27% by April 2025

CROYDON IN CRISIS: More mega-millions borrowing, more maximum tax increases, but still no solution in sight for the borough’s residents, as officials pretend that they are running a balanced budget. By STEVEN DOWNES Croydon residents will be hit by another maximum Council Tax increase next year, as Tory Mayor Jason Perry’s failure to “fix the finances” is forcing him instead to use up all the…

[sammyandmattsblog]

Hello Kruger, we've missed you

When we lived in Maputo we had to cross the border once a month for Matt's car and my visa, so we ended up going to the Kruger (A LOT) and completely falling in love with the place, as well as with birding..

From our house in the city, over the border and to the Croc Bridge Gate, was 1 1/2 hours (not much more than from Nelspruit to the park) so it was an easy excuse to find ourselves there on a Friday morning at 7:00am until Sunday afternoon.

Because we visit the park so much, our trips there have all begun to blend into each other and we've forgetten a lot of what we have seen and done. Therefore, I really want to record our experiences at the park, to look back on and remember all the wonderful times (so expect a lot of Kruger posts :)

We've been to the park on day trips twice this week 😂😂😂 but with a totally different MO than before. Now it takes us 3 hrs to travel the distance of about 30kms, as we have time to stop for every bird or sit somewhere shady for a while to just enjoy the sounds of the bush.

Women's day was our first time back in the park since January and things couldn't have been more different. Now they only accept pre bookings and only a few of the gates are open. You also have to go at a certain time and can only use the gates in your province. I think they are currently only allowing 30% capacity, which is really nice because you can drive for an hour without seeing another car. We went from Malalane up to Skukuza (H3 via Afsal) and then out Paul Kruger gate. We also stopped for lunch at Skukuza, where they have reopened the old train station and turned it into a restaurant, complete with the original steam engine and train. I found this info about the station on the internet:

A TRIP BACK IN TIME

Known as the railway that saved the Kruger National Park, the Selati line is one of the most expensive railways ever built connecting Komatipoort with Tzaneen during the gold rush heydays. The construction of the line started in 1892 and was only completed in 1912.

In 1923, the South African Railways took over and introduced a “Round in Nine” train tour through the Lowveld, with a stopover at Sabie Bridge, today called Skukuza. The tour soon became very popular for its game viewing, and Kruger was established as a national park in 1926.

Trains still ran through the park up until 1973 after which most of the tracks were removed, leaving the bridge as is and part of the Skukuza scenery.

The old South African Railway Class 24 steam locomotive number 3638 that sits at Skukuza has been stranded there for a while, with only one carriage in tow. This specific carriage has had a fascinating journey. After serving as a suburban coach from 1942, it was converted into a funeral coach and in 1950, it transported the last remains of General J. C. Smuts from Irene near Pretoria to Johannesburg for cremation. In 1967, the coach was repaired, outshopped and became the State Funeral Coach where during its service, it transported the last remains of the Hon. J. G. Strydom. It was eventually donated to the National Parks Board (SANParks), and from 1984-2014 it housed a restaurant. Originally the lounge was paired with a kitchen and dining carriage, but sadly these burnt down in 1996. What was once a beautifully-preserved train and purpose-built station has been off limits to visitors for a while until now. Thanks to the new Kruger Station – a unique lifestyle precinct that captures an important part of the park’s history, it will reopen for all visitors to the Kruger in 2020.

New birds:

.Retz's Helmetshrike (yay finally)

.Brubru

.White-crested Helmetshrike

Then yesterday (Saturday 15 Aug) we went back to the park for another lovely early morning (which turned into a late afternoon). We arrived at 6am and took the S114 dirty road from Malalane to Skukuza, which is about 50kms. We took it slow, stopping at the watering hole on the S114 to watch the birds bathing and then chilled at the Biyamiti weir.. and trust not seeing anyone the whole time but the minute I jump out the car to have a wee, a car pulls up behind us, getting a great view of my bottom 😂😂.

New birds:

.Hooded Vulture

.Lappet-face Vulture

.Common Scimitabill (finally)

.Sabota Lark

.Red-breasted Swallow

Then also saw a very cool Secretary bird

When we were there on Monday we found a previously undiscovered dirty road but didnt have time to explore. So today after lunch we drove from Skukuza to the Phabeni gate (also never used this gate before), using the Very cool Sabie River Road)

On the way home, Matt had to go kind of fast to get up the Hazyview Hills because the clutch (the same one he had fixed twice this year) is not right and we had planned to take it to the mechanic on Monday.. then just like the good old days, bam, a belt snaps (which also should've been checked on the major service in March---- mechanics, what you gonna do 🤷🏽‍♀️🤷🏽‍♀️🤷🏽‍♀️). Anyways, luckily Matt noticed the temperature rising so we pulled over and called the AA, who informed us that because of corvid, we both werent allowed to drive back with the tow truck and one of us was going to have to make another plan. Yikes.

We called our mechanic who was unfortunately in Machardodorp, so we called his wife who sweetly changed all her plans to save our day. We didnt say anything to the truck driver about not being able to drive with him and both just jumped in the truck and put seatbelts on and he didnt say anything, so off we went. Then Veronica opened the shop, and dropped us off at a taxi which she had arranged to drive us the 25kms back to our place. Gosh, I must be the bad luck one because this is the first week I've been back in the car since all the drama in Zambia back in feb (which is when the clutch broke) and the car breaks down Haha!!

[gyromitra-esculenta]

Was nice to get a back in touch with Synchronicity. Including two big reveals re: general story that could be seen as ‘spoilers’ but I’m REALLY curious if anyone’s seen those particular things coming. Tw*tter thread. Warnings: violence, blood, slighly descriptive gore - generally a big dose of turpism, also mentioned suicidal ideation / implied suicide attempt(s), and general midfuck.

*

He leans back and wipes the blade on the fabric of his pants, each breath forced under control regardless of the hunger thrashing in his lungs, and the Beast curls under his tongue - dark stinging taste of adrenaline and biting cruel satisfaction.

"Aren't you precious, Sunshine?"

It twists around his neck and slithers down his arm. Jack follows its movements to the body lying under him, hand stopped millimeters from the mask covering the man's face, fingers trembling with apprehension digging its cold claws deep into his spine. The Beast nips at his ear.

"Do you truly want to know, Sunshine?"

His fingertips wedge under the mask. He idly notices the marking on the chest armor says 'S116' instead of 'S114'.

"Doesn't matter what I want, does it?" Jack slowly lifts the facemask up. The fractures propagate. The clock is broken.

There's blood, of course there's blood, on the lips, couldn't be anything else when the knife went through the throat and then up. It's his face staring back at him, younger, unblemished, blue irises almost hidden under the dilated pupils, and a twisted derisive smile.

"You did want to know, Sunshine," the Beast laughs, a menacing sound splitting the reality into fragments that do not fit together no matter how much he wants - needs - them to. "They are lambs led to slaughter, and us, we will kill them all, this I promise you."

"Clones. They're all... That's what she..." Genetically engineered soldiers. S114. S116. S76. An obsolete model to work the kinks out of the system.

The mask falls from his numb fingers. He's not even a person, only a failed copy of one, of someone else Reaper is searching for.

Everything falls apart around him, the long grass tickles the skin of his palms, and Shaanxi makes the turn on the final approach to the landing strip. This time Jack hears it, the sound of a shot, and one of the ghosts falls to the ground - but now there's a third shadow behind.

All of this is wrong, completely wrong, the gunshot, it shouldn't be here. Because when the plane touches down, when the wheels tear on the tarmac, he gets his throat cut and bleeds out. This is how it happens, that's how it's been, and how he saw it play out before.

"Did you, Sunshine? Or is that a story you told yourself to feel better?" The Beast bites into his neck with its fangs, snarling, all the pretense of prior cordiality gone, and brings him down to his knees. The blood trickles into the thirsting ground.

"All the lies told to the good doctors, Sunshine, all the fabrications, I know them all. Oh, they all came in, they did," the Beast laughs now and its bite does not lessen, "but the only one out was you. All those times, what were you trying to kill, the truth, or the lie?"

Something hard is scraping the back of his throat, the intrusion moving deeper and deeper. The water in the bathtub runs russet red, an old antiquated razor in his hand, and he cuts again and again, against the muscle, fat, and skin, all knitting back together meticulously.

A different kind of fascination - desperation maybe - why had he forgotten? Was it only because he didn't want to remember? Jack clenches his teeth, words come halting and slow.

"I don't... Did I...? Was that me?"

"One-in-a-million lucky shot, or the perfect shot, Sunshine."

He digs his fingers into the dry dust between the clumps of the grass' roots, dry even if soaked with blood, the bitter aftertaste of alcohol and crushed pills on his tongue, he doesn't remember why, can't remember why, can't remember because he will break.

The Beast quietens. Gives out a faint chuckle of satisfaction and slackens its jaws, lets Jack fall to the ground. Allows him to breathe against the red dust as it laps at the holes left by its fangs.

"What were you trying to kill?" The seductive hiss brushes his senses.

"The truth, or the lie?"

"Myself," Jack admits. "The lie. Everything's a lie, I'm not a person, there's nothing true about..." His voice hitches and almost fades. "Did I kill him? The original, the one Reaper's looking for, because he's searching for him, isn't he?"

The Beast slots its maw under his chin, needy and insistent now, nudges his head back towards the airstrip, and Jack shuts his eyes closed because facing this truth is a gnawing terror somewhere in the back of his mind.

"You wanted to know," it hisses. "Look, Sunshine."

Again, two shades walking on the side of the tarmac, Shaanxi on the final approach, the crack of the rifle - single shot - the third silhouette lowering the barrel and firing again, at the ground. His heart is trying to escape from behind his ribs, hammering against them wildly.

The plane touches down. Translucent shadows running, not important as everything freezes in place, the flock of birds stopped in motion on the backdrop of the swirling crimson sky, out of place here as the tree is, and his vision tunnels, his gaze focused on the shooter.

The vertigo is here to stay. Nausea twists in his insides. The familiarity of the mannerism - the open palm of the hand resting on the side of the Patten with fingers bent at the exact right angles - stirs panic and hate surging in one bright flash of conflicting emotions.

And the face, the cold relief that washes down his body in waves at the recognition, putting the name to the shadow like putting a period after a sentence, or a bullet in a human. Gerard Lacroix. Butcher.

"That's rich coming from you, Sunshine," the Beast chortles.

The Butcher, a nickname taken up with the kind of morbid humor people in their profession have, not much different from Sunshine. The breeze brings the smell of broiled jungle hiding under the odor of burnt fat and roasted meat.

Cloying; revolting and appetizing at the same time. Inhale. Count to five. Exhale. The Beast nudges his head back from the still nature, to the side.

Reaper. His form keeps its shape now, the face framed by the hood and stringy hair no longer changing with the ebb and flow.

Crimson eyes are transfixed by the memory that now rewinds itself in a rush to play out again, and Jack is certain it repeats on a loop here - wherever here is.

But what startles him is his doppelganger facing Reaper, fists clenched and trembling at his sides.

As long as the apparition's attention is not focused on him, Jack takes in the small details. The uniform is non-descript, no discernible insignia anywhere, but the make and the pattern, it's Blackwatch. Black bloody stain spreads from under the jacket, exactly where the seam is.

The perfect shot. The partially congealed blood spilling from his doppelganger's mouth and the dilated in shock pupils fit. He had drowned in his own blood, there, on the tarmac. Bone shrapnel tearing through the tissue, too much damage, too rapid.

"You left me behind." Desperate rage simmers in the words. "You left me," the apparition's voice raises in pitch, becomes forceful. Accusing. "You promised to take me with you when I go."

Reaper remains rooted in place, giving no indication he even notices the presence.

"I'm here. I'm here!" His doppelganger screams, clotted blood falling from his lips as he draws in heavy breaths - almost panicked, his chest heaving - and then he starts pleading. "Why don't you look at me? Why can't you see me?"

And again, defeated, hands shaking.

"Why won't you see me?"

In a way, Jack can understand him, the desperation of screaming into the void where there is no-one who will hear you, no-one that cares enough to hear you, but it's not it.

Help him find that person, she told him.

How can you find someone who’s dead, and the other choice is forcing him to understand there is nothing to be found, not anymore, only retribution remains - but this is untrue when his screaming double persists in its existence?

“He’s here. Don’t you see him?” Jack softly asks.

Crimson eyes move, shift with glacial speed to gaze at him, focused until space stumbles over itself, and Reaper is in front of him, his claws tracing the line of Jack’s jaw. It leaves him pondering their peculiar texture again, of something left to stew in warm pond water.

Then the realization comes when they brush over his lips - not claws. Fingers. The flesh shorn off on a hard surface and the bone underneath tapered to a point, both blackened by the decay permeating all - mildew and rot on his tongue, the sickening sweetness of a thing long dead

He parts his lips for the intruding finger and the taste spreads further, addictive and revolting, familiarity undercut with decomposition - all there, ready to be experienced anew.

It's not a need, it's a dependency. Now, he understands what has been lacking in his life.

A dutiful little soldier. A failed prototype. The doctors say jump, and so he does, isn't that right?

The standing orders from his Commander remain, no witnesses, no evidence, only charred bones and black ash after they pass through, and Reaper's vengeance is indeed righteous.

"See, Sunshine?" The Beast licks his fingertips, reassuring, proud even. "This is how we are together, now and always."

"Now and always," he echoes with something dark curling around, slithering into his mind and twining with every thought. All he ever needed, his orders.

"No!" Something collides with him, hard and solid. Back of his head hits the floor and Jack brings his arms up to shield himself from the unexpected onslaught. Blood splatters on his face. "You will not take my place!" His double snarls over him, raising the fist again.

The training takes over and the blow slides along his forearm as he grabs the side of the apparition's neck with his left palm, and thrusts forward with his other hand. The blade of the knife he is somehow still holding goes through the jacket. Scrapes against the rib.

The apparition leans back with a subdued gasp, almost a whine. Looks down at him with hate palpable on his face as it starts to break up into smoldering embers drifting on the air.

A kind of Déjà vu, only this time Jack is in Replica's position, and the copy is victorious.

The embers snuff out, one after another, and the black ash they turn into swirls slowly until it fades too.

Jack falls back to the floor, next to the corpse still radiating heat. The ceiling above is grey, sooty around where the wall joins with it.

Inhale. Count to five. Exhale.

There's a lot of land to cover between here and the Still Island facility. He has his orders. He climbs to his feet and wipes the blood off his face. Straps the knife back to the jacket, shoulders the plasma rifle, and curls his fingers around the Patten's grip.

[insidecroydon]

Council's action over Negrini pay-off 'looks dead in the water'

CROYDON IN CRISIS: Despite a bit of grandstanding by Tory Mayor that he would ‘hold to account’ those responsible for bankrupting the borough, an official Freedom of Information response shows that the council is actually doing nothing. EXCLUSIVE by STEVEN DOWNES Cashing in: ex-CEO Jo ‘Negreedy’ Negrini has good reason to believe the £437,000 golden handshake from Croydon won’t ever be…

[insidecroydon]

£603,000: the soaring costs of Croydon's 'improvement' panel

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[insidecroydon]

Government blocks public inquiry into collapse of councils

Any suspicion that the Establishment that controls local and national government doesn’t want the public to find out about the shady deals that go on in Town Halls up and down the land will have been confirmed with the news that a Tory minister has blocked calls for a public inquiry into one of the worst bankruptcies ever seen at a local authority. A petition signed by 1,500 Thurrock residents…

[insidecroydon]

It's the same in Croydon and Birmingham: Pay More, Get Less

Pay more, get less: Birmingham City Hall, where Council Tax will be hiked by 20% over two years and even the dead are being forced to pay more for public services In this week’s column, ANDREW FISHER, pictured right, looks at the criminalisation of journalism through the treatment of Julian Assange, and he charts the latest  undermining of local councils by central Government It could be worse.…

[insidecroydon]

'Can't deal with debt' admits Perry as he borrows £38m more

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[insidecroydon]

Tribunal judge finds no evidence of racism or unfair dismissal

CROYDON IN CRISIS: A landmark judgement, handed down today, determined that the council did not act in a racist, prejudicial or harrassing manner towards one of its former senior staff members. By STEVEN DOWNES This was one battle that David lost to Goliath. Cleared: the Employment Tribunal dismissed the case brought against council CEO Katherine Kerswell Today, at the end of the three-week…

[insidecroydon]

CEO Kerswell could face crucial cross-examination at Tribunal

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[insidecroydon]

Backlash against Hunt as Tory-run councils feel the squeeze

Malign neglect of local government after 13 years of savage spending cuts has created an ‘existential threat’ to council services. ‘Things are starting to fall apart at the seams,’ warns a Tory source “Flagship” Conservative-run county councils could suffer financial collapse ahead of next year’s General Election, Tory sources have warned, as local government responded to the extension of…

[insidecroydon]

We are witnessing the long, slow death of local government

‘We are staring into an abyss here, and it’s time we faced up to it’. Those were the words of a Conservative councillor in Croydon – in 2013. Here, ANDREW FISHER, pictured right, says that faced with austerity on a brutal scale, it is time for local councillors from all political parties to force central government to fund them all fairly The crisis of Croydon Council’s finances has only…

[insidecroydon]

Councils' collapse should have been halted by Sunak or Gove

Croydon is far from alone as a cash-strapped local authority. And bit by bit, evidence is emerging from the series of financial crashes of councils that implicates not only Michael Gove but also Prime Minister Rishi Sunak. By STEVEN DOWNES Asleep at the wheel: Rishi Sunak was in charge of local government finance The normally staid and sober pages of the Local Government Chronicle, the trade…

[insidecroydon]

Auditors and Government both losing patience with Kerswell

CROYDON IN CRISIS: Judged by the ill-considered political posturing going forward into tonight full council meeting, the borough’s Labour councillors haven’t yet worked out who it was that bankrupted the borough. By WALTER CRONXITE, political editor Hall of mirrors: the amount of council cash ‘missing’ under the previous Labour administration in Croydon is now £269m The conman is back. He is…

[insidecroydon]

Tory Perry tries to appoint £123,000 'transformation director'

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[insidecroydon]

Labour Party chief's consultancy business is in deep trouble

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