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[howaheartbreaks]

A collection of all the times Colin refers to Penelope.

Previously I had posted of all the times in Season 3, Part 1, and now I’ve gone through the entire series because I’m a bit mad. Anyway, enjoy!

What have I found out?

In regency times, referring to a young women by their first name at all was frowned upon unless they were engaged or married, let alone a nickname. It’s clear Colin and Pen have been friends for a while and she’s “she’s a very good acquaintance of the family”. Whether or not he sees her as a younger sister in the very beginning, Colin breaks societal rules with Penelope throughout all three seasons by always using her nickname Pen, full name or other examples such as being alone with her. It establishes that they have an intimate friendship and that he is very comfortable with her.

In early season 1 and 2 he calls her Pen in full earshot of his family, her family and members of the ton and yet no one blinks an eye. He call her Penelope when he has a more intense moment with her (Penelope, what a barb) or when he’s being more formal, and the former is probably because he’s realising his feelings are moving into an inappropriate place for him to call her Pen. In all of season 1 and 2, he only calls her “Miss Featherington” once, and that is when he dances with her instead of Cressida.

Season 2 he begins to call her Penelope more regularly, and when he’s speaking to other people about her as it’s more societally correct. He still calls her Pen a lot but his conversations seem to be more direct to her but it establishes the changing nature of his relationship, especially at the end of Season 2 when he says “I will always protect you, Penelope, you are special to me” but also uses it for the “I would never court Penelope Featherington” line.

Season 3 establishes that things have changed, as he seems to become more conscious of what her name means to him.

When Colin refers to Pen in public or with his family, he refers to her as Penelope, never Miss Featherington and not Pen. When Colin and Pen are alone, he uses the pet name Pen. It is reserved for her, like an intimate moment. The few times he uses her full name in private is either serious matters - eg will you marry me, trying to be formal or in reverence because he holds her in such high esteem.

When Colin finds out about Pen as LW, he stops calling her Pen altogether until their resolution at the Dankworth-Finch ball.

SEASON 1

“Good day, Pen” - Colin stops to talk to her at her house when he calls on Marina in their first conversation, “A wretched sonnet indeed” “Lord Byron he is not.” It’s established they have a very sweet, familiar relationship with her though it’s clear it’s a friendship.

“Pen” - Colin approaches her directly at the Vauxhall ball enquiring about Marina, they dance after Cressida spills the drink on her. “I am to escort Miss Featherington to floor.” He refers to her politely in mixed company.

“Penelope, what a barb.” He approaches her at the Trowbridge ball. They share an intense look at each other much longer than necessary.

Colin calls on Marina in episode 5. “I am uncertain of my travels at the moment, Pen” he say, still referring to her affectionately while he courts Marina. At this stage he calls her Pen in front of her/his family.

At their engagement dinner she chases after him in the hallway, asks him to speak and tells him of Marina’s love for Sir George: “Pen, of course”, “Trust me Pen, do not fret.”

After Marina’s scandal he sees her at the Hastings ball across the room and approaches her (he’s always approaching her). When he sees her, his mouth drops open and he looks very nervous. He does this several times and it’s his “in love” look - similar to how he looked at Marina, but he’s lacking his usual charm because he’s nervous and probably ashamed. He offers his apologies. “Pen” “Colin” they say at the same time. “I was a fool” “You were not a fool. You merely believed yourself in love. One should never apologise for that, when One finds oneself in such an incredible position one should declare it assuredly, fervently, loudly.” He’s looking so proud and comfortable with her in this scene that he drops her name again, “I have something I wish to tell you as well, Pen. I am leaving. Itwas actually you who inspired me. You kept reminding me how much I longed for travel.” He licks his lips nervously before he says this. (Her face is so heart broken Nicola’s lip does a little quiver) Then, “Should we dance, Pen?” He’s trying to engage with her and actually looks sad when she rejects him and he watches her leave. His eyes widen and he stares after her open mouthed. And of course, he looks to her house as he leaves for the summer.

Season 1 Count

Pen: 8

Penelope: 1

Miss Featherington: 1

Season 2

After his very intense gaze at her in the drawing room after he returns from his travels (his in love look), Pen and Colin do not get to speak. He sees her at the races and his mouth gapes again when he sees her, and he’s very happy, “Pen!” “Pen, how have you been?”

They run into each at Lady Danbury’s party and Pen remarks about all the interest shown to Edwin when they barely know her, “Not a devotee of mystery, Pen?” He speaks about finding connection with someone so he didn’t feel lonely and her letters were so encouraging, “I thought, If Penelope can see me this way, surely then I can too.” He says that he is sworn off women, “I am a woman,” she notes. “You are Pen, you do not count. You are my friend.” The way he says Pen is quite reverent. She takes it as an insult that he doesn’t see her as a woman but my take is that he sees her above them. “Pen” is something more.

He next says her name when the Ton arrive at Albury Hall in Episode 4 and Eloise has been reading her women’s rights pamphlets. (The first scene with just Colin, Eloise and Pen together): “Prepare yourself for many a quotation, Pen.”

Colin goes to see Marina who tells him that he’s just a boy and to move on, and there are people like Penelope who care for him. “Penelope?” They run into each other on the stairs later my Colin is still dwelling on what Marina has said. “But, I suppose there is no use dwelling on the past. I am indeed thinking of the future. Pardon me, Pen.”

After Anthony’s wedding is on hold, Pen approaches him in the garden as he drinks from a flask and they speak about their purpose. He stares it her in awe as she speaks about hers, “Your dreams are grander than you let on, Pen.”

She inspires him to take up an investment and goes to her house to speak to Jack Featherington when she hears his voice and enters the room, “The lady of the hour.” He asks her to walk him out, “Our relationship has taken place so naturally of the years, one could take it for granted. You have always been so constant and loyal, Pen.” At this stage he’s decided this venture will help them both. Portia turns up and Pen and Colin look guilty for standing so close. “Miss Penelope was just seeing me out.”

At the Featherington Ball, Colin takes Pen’s hand and pulls her into the drawing room to expose her cousins plan, “I am sorry to be the one to tell you this, Pen, but I have looked into him and believe him to be a mere charlatan.”

After his speech to Jack, Colin downs a drink and takes Pen to the floor to dance. “I will always look after you, Penelope, you are special to me.”

And queue the extreme whiplash as we get Colin with the boys, “Are you mad? I would never dream of courting Penelope Featherington, not in your wildest fantasies, Fife.”

Season 2 Count

Pen: 9

Penelope: 5

Penelope Featherington: 1

Lady of the hour: 1

Season 3

Here we go! There’s definitely a shift in this season because she’s starting to look at her differently. He stops referring to her as Pen unless he is with her alone and reverts back to Penelope as Pen starts to become too intimate for him.

After he has returned from his travels, Colin approaches Pen at the presentation while she stands alone. “Pen, it is good to see you.” (“Is it?” She asks. Take him down, Pen!)

“And what of Penelope?” - he asks Eloise of their friendship.

At the Danbury ball she runs past him after Cressida has trodden on her dress. “Pen! She did not look well did she?” To the boys before he runs after her. He slipped on her name in this scene.

“Pen,” He addresses her alone as he approaches her. “Is something wrong, Pen, between us?” He whispers softly before telling her he misses her. Says “Pen” when he tries to speak up after she calls him out for saying he wouldn’t court her and girly walks out leaving his ass alone.

The next day he rushes to see her to make amends alone in her garden. “And I am most certainly not ashamed of you, Pen.”

In the market scene during their lessons, “Pen, living for the estimation of others is a trap. Once you break free, the world opens up.”

When she mentions that Bridgerton house is where she feels most comfortable, he rushes to get her to over. “Penelope, I have eagerly been awaiting your visit,” he addresses her in front of the footman. It’s the first time this season he calls her Penelope, but not alone (Rae doesn’t seem to count to Colin either). He moves her to the drawing room alone where he tries to set the scene for their imaginary ball, “Imagine it with me, Pen.”

When he catches her reading his journal, “Pen, were you reading that?” Even when he’s mad he still calls her by her nickname.

In the carriage to the ball with Eloise he returns to calling her “Penelope?” Something he has never done in front of El in the past.

At the ball Colin encourages her to flirt with Lord Basilio and she gets nervous as he is a Viscount and he says, “and you are Penelope Featherington, do not forget that”. When he says her name he says it in reverence, in glowing praise where he respects her name. Others usually use disdain when referring to the Featheringtons but as mentioned in season 2, Colin is not in the habit of consorting with those he holds in low esteem (and when he comes to his senses see how he completely drops the toxic lord squad).

Lord Basilio runs off crying about his horse: “Pen, what happened?” They laugh together and it’s so adorable.

The crowd talks gossip about them and Penelope runs off, and he exclaims “Pen!” As he runs after her. He slips in public and it’s always when he’s worried and running after her. As soon as he confronts Eloise he says, “did you tell anyone of my helping Penelope? What could Penelope have possibly done to warrant your maltreatment?”

He comes to her house and she asks him to kiss her. He changes to “Penelope,” to potentially protest, or to say something but she cuts him off. Her full name is a formal response after she has asked something uncomfortable of him, but it’s also used when he starts to view her more seriously.

In his dream he calls her by her nickname, “Pen, I’ve not been able to sleep, not been able to eat, I can barely… speak these days.” It’s tender and intimate. His dream is so romance novel.

After their kiss he is feeling ~feelings~. He speaks to her so formally under the willow tree, “good day” and they are both so adorably awkward. They are trying to be more formal with each other in a sudden interest in propriety, because their familiarity is what lead to the kiss and she feels like they need to take a step back by distancing themselves. He doesn’t know how to conduct himself because calling her Pen is too intimate and he’s only just putting together consciously what that intimacy means to him, “Penelope, I wish very much for your happiness.”

The next time he addresses her by name is the end of episode 4!!!

Colin interrupts her and Debling’s dance after he realises Debling will propose, “Pen, you cannot marry him.” He’s calling her Pen in the middle of the dance floor, but if you haven’t figured it out at this point, Colin is so far beyond the rules of society and nothing matters to him except breaking off this engagement.

Which brings us to (drumroll)… the carriage scene!

He chases down the carriage and flings the door open, “Penelope!” Is it formal now, is it because he’s more serious about her? Is it because there’s still people around. He tries to make his excuses before fumbling around to, “He’s not right for you, Pen.” Smoochy touchy feely, “For gods sake, Penelope Featherington, are you going to marry me?”

Part 1 Count:

Pen: 13

Penelope: 10

Penelope Featherington: 2

Use of Penelope has increased substantially for a few reasons. 1. He’s speaking of her to others more regularly. 2. He only refers to her to others as Penelope now. 3. He uses Penelope directly with her instead of Pen in serious/emotional/charged situations.

Part 2:

“Hyacinth, I do not think Penelope can breathe.” He’s so adorable in this scene, and still referring to her to his family as Penelope.

He starts professing his love to her to his brothers: “My feelings for Penelope are not a thunderbolt from the sky, I have known her a very long time and perhaps I have always felt something for her, but only foolishness was not realising it sooner.”, “Perhaps I shall go and see Penelope now.”

Portia implies Pen entrapped Colin to get him to propose to her when just yesterday she was expecting a Debling marriage, but our hero swoops in with one of his many gallant speeches, “Your daughter did not entrap me, I proposed to her out of love, nothing less. And were not so narrowly concerned with your own standing, you might see that Penelope is the most eligible amongst you. In the future, I advise you not to sully our Bridgerton name by suggesting otherwise.”

He takes her alone to their new place, and he stares at her reverently as he confesses, “I will always stand up for you. Because I love you, Pen.” Her name is soft and intimate and meaningful to him.

Eloise is mad at him and he says, “I apologise for not telling you earlier about my feelings for Penelope”, “And it was Penelope this and Penelope that and Penelope and I are going to read Don Quixote and we are going to be knights. Penelope is going to be your sister, soon. There is a time that would have been your greatest dream. It would mean the world to me to have your blessing and I know it would mean a great deal to Penelope, too.”

At their engagement party (gosh what an episode), he approaches her with, “My bride-to-be.” (Squee)

Colin begins his engagement party speech,���It was my atrocious riding that allowed me to meet Miss Featherington… Pen, and I am so grateful to be here with her tonight.”

It is the first time this season he calls her Miss Featherington and it’s in front of family and friends and wider ton members, but it’s also the first time he publically announces her as Pen this season and to a wider social. Both in the same sentence!

He begins to call her Pen again when they are around family and friends, something he hasnt done since last season, “Pen, where did you run off to? I was looking for you.”

“Pen!” When she faints.

BOY is so stressed the next morning when he comes to call on her. “Pen! Are you well? I’ve been worried.” Once he’s a bit more relieved, he sinks back into more of a formal greeting in front of her mother (who is now awkwardly chaperoning now for the first time ever…) “Good day, Miss Featherington… for now.”

At the Kent Ball, poor baby Colin is feeling like he has done something wrong and says he wants to try writing his memories on its own as, “I want to be worthy of you, Pen.”

At this stage, Colin finds out that Pen is Lady Whistledown when she rushes from the party to print. In their confrontation he does not use her name, only “You are Lady Whistledown.”

At this point his feelings for her are supremely altered as although he loves her, he cannot deal with her being Lady Whistledown and the affection and familiarity he had with her is distanced.

When he confronts Eloise, he says “I saw you leaving a private room with Penelope before I found her.”

He does not even say her name in their tense conversation viewing the wedding breakfast room with her mother. He also does not say her name when they run into each other on the street outside of the modiste and have their moment of passion. He used to use her nickname in such reverence, in comfort, in intimacy and now cannot bring himself to say it.

The next time he says her name is during their wedding speech (my heart). “I, Colin Bridgerton, take thee, Penelope Featherington, to be my wedded wife.”

After they are married and she tries to run when the Queen appears, “Penelope, you are a Bridgerton now.” It is the more formal version of her name, but combined with their now shared last name.

Just when we think they are reconciling, Pen tells him she will not give up Whistledown. He sleeps on the couch on their wedding night and does not say her name again until she shows up at his house with Eloise and Portia present, “Penelope, what are you doing here?” Though I will add, although he’s very angry with her, Colin’s protective (and hot) husband mode switches on as he angrily states, “If miss Cowper spreads this gossip it will besmirch our Bridgerton name, and I will not have anyone blackmailing my wife.”

Welcome, Colin “My Wife” Bridgerton, I hope we see you in season 4. 🥰

He continues his protective streak with Cressida, “does she know of your blackmailing my wife?” But even when he speaks with Cressida to plead for her mercy, he keeps it formal: “This last year I found myself yearning to head word from home, from Penelope in fact, but I did not hear back from her”, “Penelope is no villain.”

For most of this speech it feels like Colin is speaking to himself as he tries/realises that he is forgiving her, “There is Whistledown, and there is Penelope”, “For her hand in your troubles, I know Penelope feels remorse. If even Penelope can find grace for you, do you not see that the ton too will forgive you.”

When Colin tearfully returns, having failed from his talk with Cressida he admits, “Perhaps Penelope was right, it would have been better to just pay her.”

Once Penelope reveals herself as Lady Whistledown and gives her speech to the ton, Colin approaches her. She offers an annulment and he is upset at it, “Pen,” (the first time he’s called her Pen since he found out she was Whistledown!!) “Every since I found out you are Whistledown, I have done everything I can to try to separate you from her. But the other day I went back and read all of the letters you sent me, your letters have always been the ones I am most eager to read, and I realised… you are her. You have always had one voice, there is no separating you from Whistledown… I love you. Now, will you please do me the honour of joining me on the dance floor, Mrs Bridgerton.”

I think it’s super clever that they used her name as another way he tried to separate her from Whistledown and something I wouldn’t have noticed if I wasn’t a super nerd and wrote this. The things you notice! When he refers to her as Pen again it’s clear that all of his concerns are gone and he’s happy with her again AND referring to her by her married name is the perfect final main story finish.

Bonus Epilogue:

“I could not have written my book without the help of Philomena’s aunty Penelope.”

Season 3 part 2 Count:

Pen: 7

Penelope: 20

Penelope Featherington: 1

Miss Featherington: 2

My bride-to-be: 1

My wife: 2

Mrs Bridgerton 1

TOTAL COUNT S1-3

Pen: 37

Penelope: 35

Penelope Featherington (in full): 4

Mrs Bridgerton: 1

Miss Featherington: 3

Lady of the hour: 1

My Bride-to-be: 1

My Wife: 2

TOTAL COLIN REFERENCES TO PEN: 81

PS: if anyone has a gif of Mrs Bridgerton please let me know I can’t find one!!

Anything I’ve missed let me know!

[beardedmrbean]

Chinese electric cars may become pricier in the European Union (EU) after politicians called them a threat to its own industry.

It has "provisionally concluded" that Chinese electric vehicle (EV) manufacturers will face tariffs from 4 July "should discussions with Chinese authorities not lead to an effective solution".

The EU's announcement comes as it continues an investigation into what it claims is a flood of cheap, government-subsidised Chinese cars into the trade bloc.

China alleged the tariffs violated international trade rules and described the investigation as "protectionism".

EV makers who co-operated with the investigation, which the EU's governing European Commission launched in October, will face an average 21% duty, while those who did not will face one of 38.1%.

Meanwhile, specific charges will apply to three companies:

BYD: 17.4%

Geely: 20%

SAIC: 38.1%

Non-Chinese car companies who produce some EVs in China, including EU-based ones like BMW, will also be affected.

The commission said Tesla may receive an "individually calculated duty rate" because of a specific request it had made.

These charges would come on top of the current rate of 10% tariff levied on all electric cars produced in China.

The EU's intervention comes after the US made the much bolder move of raising its tariff on Chinese electric cars from 25% to 100% last month.

The decision has drawn criticism not just from China, but also from politicians within the EU and several industry figures.

China's foreign ministry spokesperson In Jian said the "anti-subsidy investigation is a typical case of protectionism".

He added that the tariffs might also risk damaging "China-EU economic and trade co-operation and the stability of the global automobile production and supply chain".

The tariffs will apply definitively from November unless there is a qualified majority of EU states - 15 countries representing at least 65% of the bloc's population - voting against the move.

Germany's Transport Minister, Volker Wissing, said it risked a "trade war" with Beijing.

"The European Commission's punitive tariffs hit German companies and their top products," he wrote on X, formerly known as Twitter.

The ACEA, the European Automobile Manufacturers' Association, said that "free and fair trade" was essential in making sure that the European car industry remains competitive.

They added, however, that it was just one piece of the puzzle when thinking about how to boost the adoption of electric cars.

Mercedes-Benz and Stellantis — which owns Citroën, Peugeot, Vauxhall, Fiat, and several other brands — also spoke out, emphasising the importance of free trade.

Stellantis said it does not support measures that "contribute to the world fragmentation [of trade]".

Some EU car companies have called for a bloc-wide industrial policy to deal with global competition.

Last year, more than eight million electric vehicles were sold in China – about 60% of the global total,according to the International Energy Agency’s annual Global EV Outlook.

[themalhambird]

Mansfield Park: your OTP + a reunion hug/kiss after having been apart? 👀

“Edmund!” 

His name flies from Mrs Crawford’s lips with all the warmth and delight owing to an unexpected encounter with a- a very old, dear friend. A warm summer’s breeze stirs the air and the scent of roses wafts through Vauxhall Gardens as Fanny drops her husband’s arm and steps forward to greet her cousin-turned-brother-by-marriage. Mr. Bertram starts a little, and then sombre, shadowed eyes light with recognition and a genuine smile spreads across his face. “Fanny.” He takes her outstretched hand with a familial squeeze and

(They linger, for a split second too long, entirely unaware that they’ve done so and the whole world too, spins on oblivious. In the trees and bushes, the birds sing their mating calls)

then turns to shake the hand of his brother in law and friend. 

(If his smile becomes a little more forced than it used to be, on seeing Henry Crawford, neither man is aware.)

“Crawford.”

“Bertram!” Henry remarks cheerfully. “My sister dragged you to Town at last, did she? Well done, Mary.”

Mrs Bertram laughs, her eyes sparkling. “You know me, Henry. I always get my way at last.” She squeezes her husband’s elbow, or perhaps digs her nails into the flesh beneath his coat. Edmund’s expression turns a little blank, and Fanny stares at him with not a little sorrow and concern.

“It is good to see you,” she offers gently. “You were missed at Christmas.”

“I had a duty to Thornton Lacy.”

“Of course,” Fanny says; Mary’s lips tighten briefly. Christmas at Wimpole Street with Mr and Mrs Rushworth had been- something, Fanny supposed- neither awful nor good. She would have been glad of Edmund’s company. 

“Well, we are all together now,” Mary says, a little too brightly. “Shall we take a stroll together?” She moves away from her husband, and towards her brother- it is a rational enough move; they were always close and they have not seen each other for nearly a six-month. They go before, leaving Mrs Crawford and Mr Bertram to follow behind.  Fanny takes Edmund’s arm and he supports her weight, the smile returning a little to his face. 

“I have missed,” he says, “our walks in the shrubbery at Mansfield Park.”

“Yes,” Fanny agrees softly. “I have as well.”

[oliviajames1122]

Vauxhall motors

The global shortage of computer chips has had a significant impact on the car industry and is unlikely to improve before the end of the year, according to Vauxhall Motors.

Vauxhall's managing director, Paul Wilcox, told the BBC that the industry was facing a "problem" for the next two or three months.

However, he insisted there was no need for a major overhaul of supply chains.

The UK has suffered a shortage of semiconductors for the past year.

It was triggered by the Covid crisis. In the early stages of the pandemic, there were dramatic cuts in the car and commercial vehicle production. This was followed by a surge in output when the first wave of lockdowns came to an end.

But as car factories tried to ramp up their output, they found that the available supplies of semiconductors had already been snapped up by other industries, notably the consumer electronics sector, which was experiencing a boom in sales.

·Why is there a chip shortage?

·Toyota to cut production by 40% amid chip crisis

·Car production hit by 'pandemic' and chip shortage

Modern vehicles can have hundreds of chips on board. They are used in engine controls, entertainment systems, safety mechanisms, instrument clusters, and so on, so the shortage has forced manufacturers around the world to curtail production.

Vauxhall is no exception. Production at both of its UK plants in Ellesmere Port and Luton has been disrupted at different times. According to Mr Wilcox, the effects are still being felt.

"It has obviously suppressed our ability to manufacture," Mr Wilcox told the BBC, speaking at the Commercial Vehicle Show in Birmingham many business listings.

Vauxhall Motors' managing director Paul Wilcox says carmakers rely heavily on "just-in-time" delivery systems

"If you look at the industry in the UK this month, commercial vehicle sales, which have been hugely buoyant this year - 59% up - this month they're 20% down, and obviously a large part of that is because of supply shortages."

He added that parent company Stellates' decision to invest £100m on building a new range of electric vans at Vauxhall's troubled plant in Ellesmere Port was "massively important" for the factory and its workforce.

Motor manufacturers rely heavily on so-called "just-in-time" delivery systems - which mean that parts are delivered to factories when they are needed, rather than being stockpiled.

This eliminates the need for expensive warehousing but means that if parts do not appear when they are required, factories can grind to a halt. But Mr Wilcox said he saw no need for a major overhaul of supply chains as a result of the current crisis business listings.

"I don't think it exposes a problem," he said. "I think it just illustrates that when you have a crisis, you can be quite vulnerable."

He added that the car industry is very much "based on lean manufacturing".

"I don't think that will change in the short to medium term - may be one thing we need to be careful of is maintaining more stability in terms of our contractual arrangements, but I don't see a fundamental shift in the way we manage the business," he said.

Mr Wilcox also applauded the recent decision by Vauxhall's parent company Stellates to build a new range of electric vans at the company's plant at Ellesmere Port in Cheshire.

The factory, which employs 1000 people, had been at risk of closure.

"It's obviously massively important," he said. "The investment of £100m obviously gives surety of jobs, gives stability in terms of the workforce and stability to the supply chain, which in that part of the UK is obviously very important."

But the move, he said, would also protect the long-term future of the plant, which will be building electric vehicles at a time when the industry as a whole is moving rapidly towards electrification free business listings.

[olko71]

New Post has been published on All about business online

New Post has been published on https://yaroreviews.info/2023/09/warning-petrol-ban-delay-may-hit-electric-car-sales

Warning petrol ban delay may hit electric car sales

Getty Images

By Michael Race

Business reporter, BBC News

The UK car industry has raised concerns the decision to delay the ban on new petrol and diesel car sales could put off drivers switching to electric.

Prime Minister Rishi Sunak confirmed the planned ban was being pushed back five years from 2030 to 2035.

He said it was “not right to impose more costs on working people”, adding “sensible green leadership” was needed.

A drivers campaign group said it was “delighted” by the delay, arguing the policy costs outweighed the benefits.

Fair Fuel UK said the original plan was “always doomed to be dropped”.

But Ford, one of the UK’s most popular car brands, selling more than 126,000 vehicles in 2022, said the change would “undermine” the move to electric.

What’s the policy now?

Prior to Mr Sunak announcing a shift in policy, the government had planned to ban the sale of new, pure petrol and diesel vehicles by 2030. Now, the plan is the ban will kick in in 2035.

By phasing out petrol and diesel sales it aims to accelerate the transition to electric vehicles and expand charging infrastructure and achieve net zero by 2050, is when a country’s net carbon emissions are cut to zero, and is seen as vital to tackling climate change.

Under the ban, from 2035 only electric battery-powered cars and certain hybrids will be able to be bought new.

However, most people will not be impacted by the ban immediately, as the majority of drivers buy vehicles second hand and only sales of new petrol and diesel models would be affected – not existing ones.

Mr Sunak said he expected the majority of cars sold by the time the ban commences to be electric, but added “at least for now, it should be you, the consumer that makes that choice – not the government forcing you to do it”.

The delay in the ban brings the UK into line with the European Union, which is also banning sales of new petrol and diesel cars by 2035.

‘Clarity required’

But Ford’s UK chair Lisa Brankin criticised the move. She said the original 2030 target “is a vital catalyst to accelerate Ford into a cleaner future”, adding the company had already invested £430m in upgrading its UK plants to produce electric cars.

“Our business needs three things from the UK government, ambition, commitment, and consistency. A relaxation of 2030 would undermine all three,” she said in response to the BBC reporting the prime minister was considering weakening several green commitments, to save money.

Sunak considers weakening key green policies

What does net zero mean?

Stellantis, which owns Vauxhall, Peugeot, Citroen and Fiat, said it was “committed to achieve 100% zero emission new car and van sales in the UK and Europe by 2030”, regardless of any delay to the ban.

But it added “clarity is required from governments” over such issues.

Mike Hawes, chief executive of the Society of Motor Manufactures and Traders (SMMT), said consumers would be sent an “incredibly confusing” message due to the delay.

“The concern now is, does this cause consumers to delay their purchase [of an electric car]?,” he told the Today programme.

Simon Williams, head of policy at the RAC motoring group, said the announcement of the delay risked “slowing down both the momentum the motor industry has built up in switching to electric”.

Philip Nothard, insight and strategy director at Cox Automotive, said many carmakers were already committed to hybrid and electric-only ranges ahead of 2030, so regardless of the delay consumers would end up facing a “limited choice” of new petrol and diesel cars, which would likely be more expensive that greener cars.

But there have been concerns about the high cost of many electric vehicles, along with fears the UK is not expanding its charging infrastructure fast enough.

Mechanic Chloe Hudson told BBC Newsbeat. that while a ban was good for the climate, the cost of living also played a part, and spare parts for hybrid and electric cars were expensive and unaffordable to some people.

“When something goes wrong, is that person then prepared to spend thousands of pounds on their vehicle?” said the 25-year-old from Birmingham

In recent months, UK car industry and government has been ramping up investment in zero-emission cars.

Earlier this month, German car giant BMW announced plans to invest hundreds of millions of pounds to prepare its Mini factory in Oxford to build a new generation of electric cars, while Jaguar Land Rover-owner Tata confirmed plans in July to build a £4bn battery plant in Somerset.

The projects have been backed with government subsidies.

BMW sources said moving ban to 2035 would not change its plans and rubbished reports suggesting the government had promised to keep the 2030 target as a condition for its recent investment.

Separately, Mr Hawes said he was “assured” that the zero emission vehicles mandate, a requirement that 22% of cars sold by each manufacturer will be zero emission from 2024, would still be introduced.

Is delaying the ban on new sales of petrol and diesel cars a good or a bad idea? You can get in touch by emailing haveyoursay@bbc.co.uk.

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Related Topics

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[ollielambertvisom]

FMP

Using London as an example city to base some of my design on is a good starting point.

Re London has lots of useful data and statistics regarding the population of London and their consumer habits, with main goals of waste reduction and recycling, with their goals to move towards a more circular economy.

I found a really useful pdf documenting Londons food foot print over a 1 year period 2020/2021.

80 Acres

Using some data from 80 Acres Farm, a vertical farm who's headquarters is based in Ohio USA I noted some key information.

Their main farm sits on 1 Acre of land around 55 feet high, making the total grow space near enough 1 metric cube in size.

Within in a 1 acre level within the farm they can fit around 13,000 plants in one grow cycle, (this will vary based on the crop).

which in one year adds up to around 2,000,000 lbs or 908tons per year

Re London Food Footprint

Total imports of fruit and veg in London within the year recorded was 1,418,000 tons, with around 836,000tons lost or wasted due to transportation.

This is a really useful app which lets me size up an area accurately, I took a green space in Vauxhall Park which was 1.619 hectares which is equivalent to 4 Acres of land.

Using the data gathered from 80 acres and the Re London survey I was able to roughly estimate how many vertical farms would be needed to completely eliminated they need to import fruit and veg from outside London to sustain the London food network.

one 4 acre farm would produce 3,632 tons of produce per year, which would mean you would need 390 farms across the whole of Greater London to completely eliminate the need for imported goods.

Now the 4 acre plot of land on Vauxhall park was just an example to base my calculations off, obviously in the real world people won't want a huge 4 acre building placed onto of a recreational ground. Now Greater London is huge and there is ample space towards the outer areas on Greater London where you could have 3 or 4, 4 acre farms on one complex. and in reality I think there would only be 3 or 4 larger farms within central London.

Also this data is based off current technologies within vertical farms, and as the CEO of 80 acres said in an interview this is still early stages of this technology when you look at their end goal. So what might take 390 farms now, in the future this figure could be halved as the efficiency of these farms increase.

In my presentation I spoke about having a good customer relationship with my brand almost like a local business. I first anticipated only one farm for each city and their could be custom branding variations based off the city the farm was in. However now after getting a better idea of how this company would actually work perhaps the inclusion of custom branding for 3 or 4 different boroughs across London would be a nice way of communicating this idea to help build customer relations.

[scotianostra]

September 15th 2007 saw the tragic death of Scottish  world rally champion, his son Johnny, the boy’s friend Ben Porcelli and Graeme Duncan, when his helicopter came down near McRae’s home in Lanark.

Born on 5th August 1968 in Lanark, McRae was part of a racing family from the start alongside future rally driving brother Alastair McRae. As the son of rally legend Jimmy McRae, Colin got involved in autotesting from the age of 16 and quickly excelled on rough surfaces.

1986 saw the young star behind the wheel of a Talbot Sunbeam in the Scottish Rally Championship, and two years later he claimed the championship title after beating off competition in his rally-prepared Vauxhall Nova. After upgrading to a Ford Sierra XR 4x4i and latterly a Sierra Cosworth, McRae stunned crowds at the 1987 Rally New Zealand by finishing 5th in the heavy, rear-wheel drive coupe in a field dominated by grippier four-wheel-drive machines.

Only four years later, McRae turned professional and started a world-famous association with the Prodrive rally team and their blue-and-gold Subaru Impreza WRC cars. As a curious aside in 1992, McRae also competed for Prodrive in a BMW 3-series coupe at the Knockhill round of the British Touring Car Championship, where he was disqualified for causing an avoidable collision with fellow racer Matt Neal.”

The Scot’s first professional World Rally Championship win came in 1993 at Rally New Zealand where he had shocked crowds in the Ford before. McRae by this point was reaching the peak of his career, with an out-an-out duel with world champion teammate Carlos Sainz seeing McRae crowned as World Rally Champion for 1995.

Subsequent seasons saw him fail to better his second place, and he completed a move to rivals Ford in 1999.

At Ford, McRae’s rapid pace and flamboyant driving style remained while the American company paid him approximately six million pounds over two years; making him the highest-paid rally driver in history at the time. Reliability issues with the Ford Focus WRC - and McRae’s penchant for rally-ending flips and crashes - meant that he would again finish fourth in 2000 and second in 2001, behind Finn Tommi Makkinen and fellow Brit Richard Burns.

Eventually, McRae’s contract with Ford expired at the end of 2002 and the Scot made the move to up-and-coming hopefuls Citroen. Alongside former teammate Carlos Sainz and then-rookie Sebastian Loeb, McRae secured a second-place finish on that year’s Monte Carlo rally, which was to be his highest rally finish for the remainder of that season where he finished seventh in the championship rankings.

After being let go by the French outfit due to 2004 rule changes that reduced the number of championship drivers in a team from 3 to 2, McRae was left without a drive for the new season. It was in this year that he decided to try out different forms of motorsport, with an entry into the 24 Hours of Le Mans endurance race with a Prodrive-entered Ferrari 550-GTS Maranello rewarding him with a third place podium spot in his class and ninth place finish overall. McRae would also enter the Dakar Rally event in latter years and even make a surprise return to the WRC in a semi-works team Citroen Xsara in 2006 after Loeb had broken his hand.

McRae’s unexpected death in September 2007 came not behind the wheel of a car but in a helicopter accident which also took the lives of his son and family friends. Reacting to the news of his death, close friend and then F1 racer David Coulthard said: “He was fearless, flamboyant, [and] blindingly quick in the car. He had all the good Scottish traits.”

Coulthard then opted to race the 2007 Japanese Grand Prix with a commemorative helmet design to honour the Lanark icon, as seen in the pics.

Since the death of Colin McRae, the Colin McRae Forest Stages Rally has been run in Perth since 2008 and attracted big-name rally stars such as Ari Vatanen, Stig Blomqvist, Travis Pastrana and Colin’s father, Jimmy McRae. McRae is frequently cited as one of the most exciting and talented drivers by spectators, thanks to his fluid driving style which often saw the car pitched sideways through corners.

[yvesdemetz]

10 DEATHS FOR 10 YEARS [4 of 6]:

http://youtube.com/watch?v=_t9y1_WRneY

Date: May 12th, 2022. Warnings: A nice little cameo.

“This is absolutely not allowed...”

As soon as she’d stepped into the room, the woman was greeted with a certifiable French occupation.  

Of St. Catherine’s Hospital.  

From the minute he’d awoken from surgery, the French Commandant wasn’t sure that he’d truly spent a moment alone. Not that he minded much, given the circumstances. In the rare few hours of the day when his wife went back to check on their sons—boys too thrilled to be spending time with their beloved Saba Avraham to wonder why their father had fallen off the face of the Earth—he had the company of his brother, instead. Delphine, Varden, and of course, the twins, had also been commonplace at his bedside, and he hadn’t even begrudged St. Pierre stopping by with a few extra painkillers.

Apart from them, though, his mood was volatile enough that the others respected the distance.

If only he could be so lucky with the fucking nurses.

“You all need to leave. And she cannot be on your bed.”

“Wake my wife, and you won’t like where that needle ends up.”

God knew she needed the rest after the stress of him straying a little too close to death’s door.

Varden was usually the one to temper his attitude for the sake of the nurses, but the man—true to form, much more gracefully than his wife—was passed out in an armchair in the corner of the best private room the Organization’s money could bribe out of the place. It was taking a toll on him, and Yves knew it; the constant hits against them that he shouldered an unfair amount of the blame for. Even if it was all his own.

As if the man could’ve predicted some rabid little Brixton cunt would pull a knife on a Commandant...

And then repeatedly fucking stab him with it.

It wasn't until after the nurse departed—thankfully much quieter after his particularly bitter retort—that their peace was once again interrupted. Though, perhaps this time, it could be forgiven.

The familiar face of his little brother appeared in the doorway.  

Given that he hadn’t seen the man do much else but grimace since he’d been hospitalised, the fact he was wearing a grin that stretched from ear to ear left him with some fucking questions.  

“Where’s Noa?”

Yves felt his wife stir beside him, and he shot him a look that very much said indoor voice, as the arm he had looped around her tightened slightly.  

“Val is going to want to hear this, too,” Dan assured, finally stepping into the room.

“Noa went to go get more of those chocolate doughnut things...” This time it was Laurent who spoke. “What’s going on? Why do you look like you just came from a Russian funeral?”

“Of course she fucking did,” the younger de Metz brother scoffed, heading over to his best friend, still dead to the world in his arm chair. Rather unceremoniously, he dumped the bag of requested pastries in his lap. “Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty. I want a fucking audience.”

When he felt his wife sitting up beside him in spite of his best efforts, Yves sighed in silent annoyance. Whatever it was that his brother seemed so excited to share with them better have been fucking good.  

“What’s with the suspense?”

“I thought Delphine was supposed to be here? Where’s Delphine?”

“She had some stuff to take care of in Vauxhall. She’ll drop by later,” Varden finally replied, tone making it blatantly obvious that he was not best pleased at being disturbed. “What time is it?”

“It’s time Dan shares his fucking news,” Yves pressed, wincing slightly in both pain and frustration as he moved his position in the bed to better accommodate the woman beside him.  

“Not without Noa—”

“Dan, what the fuck is going on?”

The Frenchman was glad that his brother respected their leader enough to ditch the game he was playing and finally spill whatever the fuck he was so excited about, because Yves wasn’t well known for his patience at the best of times, let alone when he was tired and hurting. There was a brief pause in which he considered getting out of the bed and strangling him, before the younger man finally spoke.

And they could scarcely believe what they were hearing.

“Lara Rutherford is dead.”

The room descended into stunned silence.

It seemed to require conscious effort from all of them to comprehend the words.  

Lara Rutherford was dead?

“I’m sorry, what?” To his surprise, it was Val who spoke first. “How do you know? Who told you that?”

“It's everywhere,” he said, tone reminiscent of a young child excited for Chanukah. “Launceston’s version of Westminster Insider posted about it first, apparently, but it’s spreading like wildfire. I only know because that dickhead at Mistral’s heard it from one of his Porto Velho connections.”

“They’re talking about it in Porto Velho?”

“Yeah. And apparently Westminster Insider spotted one of the brothers at the airport leaving London.”

“For Launceston?”

“Who fucking knows. Probably.”

“How? Who? Was it one of ours?”

Everybody seemed to be chipping into the insane exchange bar one. Laurent St. Pierre remained in his seat, expressionless, uncomfortable almost, staring at Dan as though the man had just sprouted two fucking heads. Yves could understand not everybody immediately jumping to the conclusion that this was good news. If the Rutherford daughter—assumed by most to be her father’s favourite to one day take his place at the helm of their cancerous family—was indeed dead, then the British were going to respond poorly. Just because it’d happened in Launceston, didn’t mean the waves wouldn’t be felt in London.  

“Shooting. It was a shooting at some shit hole hotel. They didn’t say who.”

“We'd have already heard about it if it was us...” Varden sounded more hopeful than convinced, though.

Well, if they thought London was already a mess, it was going to get a lot worse now.

Laurent looked as though he wanted to say something, and given the concerned state his expression had since slipped into, Yves found himself intrigued as to what the fuck it might’ve been. To his disappointment, however, he remained silent. The Commandant didn’t even get a chance to grill him about it before somebody else knocked at the door. Bad timing. Headache inducing. What the fuck was this, a social club?

Whilst he’d hoped it would be Noa returning with more food, Yves was mistaken.

The face was familiar, yes, but not one he would’ve ever expected to see here. Now.  

Not after all this time.

With almost as much fervour as he’d revealed the news about the dead Rutherford, Dan turned on his heels, let his pea brain take the moment it needed to come to terms with what he was seeing, before he broke out into a loud cheer, throwing his arms around the man who’d joined them. Even though Yves’ attention very much remained on Laurent—watching as the man fished out his phone from his pocket, completely ignoring the new arrival—he caught Varden getting to his own feet out of the corner of his eye.

That was enough to get him look back.  

The smile of an old friend greeted him.

“How does such an ugly bastard manage to be a sight for sore eyes?” Varden chuckled.

Marcel Giroud, of all people, echoed the amusement with a laugh of his own.

“We were in the neighbourhood, and I heard the stick insect finally got the traditional London welcome. What was it, three times or four?”

In spite of the insult, Yves let out a chuckle that the sharp pain in his side immediately made him regret. Three. It had definitely been three. 

For a second, it was as if the information about Lara Rutherford had left them.

Until someone reminded them that not only was the news very much still pressing, but could indeed be worse than any of them had first thought.

“They’re going to think I set her up. They’re going to think this was us.”

Yves realised Laurent, a man he rarely saw lose his cool for anything but anger, had been slowly descending into panic during the distraction of the Parisian’s arrival.  

“Wait, what?”

“What are you talking about? Why the fuck would they think it was us?”

Marcel, now embracing his former protégé, Varden, seemed about as confused as the rest of them by the conversational segue, but Yves noted the younger man looked straight through them as he got to his feet and headed toward the doorway.  

“Where are you going?”

“St. Pierre.”

He was leaving.

Yves and Varden exchanged a look.

And during that split second in which his attention was directed away from the former Head of London, the mood shifted drastically from measured celebration to confusion to something much less pleasant. Whilst he might’ve been ignoring the questions being tossed his way—ignoring their existence generally, actually—as Laurent stopped in his tracks so abruptly one might’ve imagined he’d hit an invisible brick wall, he finally did have something to say.

And it was so full of anger and hatred, it caught all of their attention:

“Hey, she can’t fucking be here, Marcel. Get her the fuck out of here.”

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Sweet True Lies: Part 2

A/N: Geralt’s a special agent for MI6 and Jaskier’s his analyst. They’re on a mission to secure nuclear launch codes for a stray nuke cooked up by a private company who, until recently, only sent electric cars into space. Geralt and Jaskier are the best in the business, but Geralt has a weakness for tall, dark and handsome that tends to get him into trouble at the worst times. Or is it the best?

Warnings: genre typical violence; eventual smut. Pairings: Eskel/Geralt; Yennefer & Geralt; Geralt & Jaskier.

(Duplicated from AO3).

Hotel Le Royal Monceau was a tall, white building located on Avenue Hoche. You know it’s posh when its façade has huge, floor to ceiling windows and carefully pruned pots of flowers arranged artistically at the entrance. Jaskier endured M’s disgusted ‘how much?’ and ‘doesn’t he know we’re in a recession?’ along with a litany of other grumbles to get the paperwork signed off. “One thousand two hundred pounds a night,” she’d scowled as she scribbled her signature on the costing form. “If he doesn’t leave with those launch codes, you’re both on surveillance duty for a month.”

Jaskier pulled a face as he left the office. Surveillance duty meant following around a member of the Cabinet in a nondescript white van, watching them attend meetings, eat Marks and Spencer sandwiches and cheat on their spouses. No thank you.

Geralt steps out of his hired car and passes the keys across to the concierge along with his room number for his bags, who seems somewhat perplexed to be faced with a Vauxhall Insignia rather than a two-seater sports car. He was a man of simple tastes, usually. The doorman gives him a polite nod as he enters the hotel lobby, straightening his cufflinks as his gaze passes around the reception. The evening’s just as claustrophobic as two nights prior and the sweat on the back of his neck prickles under the cool caress of the air conditioning.

He heads across the immaculate marble floor to the bar and dining area. There are several older gentlemen sitting around with tall broadsheets, a young family—or rather, two children and their escort—sitting by the window and Yen propping up the bar. The black combats are gone, replaced by an ankle length, strapless dress. The slit in the side reveals the lean thigh as her legs cross, the sparkling gems in her heels catching the light of the overhead chandeliers.

“Oh, she’s gorgeous,” Jaskier whispers in Geralt’s ear. “I can see why you fell for that on repeat, you know.”

“Yes, thank you, Jaskier,” Geralt grumbles, adjusting his cuff again. Yen makes him nervous in a way few others do. When they’re on joint operations it’s easy to place her in the role of fellow operative, but like this—with the dress, the flowing hair down her back, the beautiful violet eyes sparkling, and just everything —old memories begin to surface. Those old memories are the reason they both insist on public meeting now. He approaches with a tight smile and his pre-prepared introduction falls out of his head. “You smell nice.”

She squints at him, and then pulls a face. “This is a business meeting.”

Geralt, who’s never one to not flog a proverbial horse in cardiac arrest, continues. “You smell nice at this business meeting.” From the look on her face, the horse was now beyond help, so he makes himself comfortable on the stool. One of the barmen stops by and Yen orders him the most expensive whiskey on the menu; it’s not the 263, but it went down just as well.

“Any surveillance?” She asks softly.

“None,” Geralt replies over the rim of his glass. “Jaskier ran some more checks, but the man’s a ghost. No trace of him on any cameras before he appeared in the offices.”

“And none since,” Yen murmurs. “Triss kept an eye on everything around your hotel and mine. I moved a few times just to make sure. She’s fairly good at spotting a tail.” She pauses to take a sip of her wine. “I spoke with the bosses. They were reluctant to share the intel, but I convinced them it was for the good of our ‘special relationship’, so,” she passes him a memory stick, “here.”

“And they’re okay with two sets being in existence?”

“Well, the next stage is looking for the damned thing and I know for a fact your little ferret is currently weaselling his way through international black markets, so if one of us finds it and it’s already been set? You’ll need these to deactivate it.”

“Geralt, did she just call me a ferret? You know, I’ve never liked her.”

“Any leads?” Geralt asks, decidedly ignoring his analyst, but before Yen can answer one of the bar staff wanders over. Now, Geralt isn’t a shallow person, but the man that approaches them is staggeringly attractive. He’s dressed in the uniform of the hotel—black trousers, waistcoat, white shirt and bow tie—and it accentuates every curve and line for Geralt’s viewing pleasure. His black hair, parted in the middle, is carefully tucked behind his ears; his eyes are a striking hazel, set in a broad face with full lips, and the forearms that sweep through Geralt’s vision while they mop the bar are sun kissed and strong. He can’t help but follow them up to the thick biceps that flex through his shirt. There’s a network of scars down the right side of his face, but they only add to Geralt’s fascination.

Perhaps the bartender catches him staring—very likely, he’s not discreet—because he raises an eyebrow and leans forward rather pointedly. “Can I get you anything, sir?” There’s a tiny sliver of mischief in that tone alongside his subtle, American accent and, with the slight tilt of his head, Geralt’s almost convinced that the man can read his mind. He’s clearly amused by Geralt’s filthy, touch starved, all too needy thoughts. Or perhaps he can see Geralt flailing in desperation as he tries, and fails, to hold Yen’s attention, which is equally as funny.

“No,” Geralt says quickly, and then glances at Yen’s now empty glass. “I mean, that is to say—.”

Yen rolls her eyes as she places the wine flute down on the bar. “No, I’m quite fine. I was just thinking of catching an early night,” she glances between the two, and Geralt is thoroughly disgruntled by her knowing smile; she knows his type. Tall, dark, good-looking, interesting and entirely too sassy. With his impressive physique, his faint, mischievous smile and intriguing scars, Mr Barman fit the bill in every regard. In her case, he was happy to forego the tall part because of the sheer volume of sass. It balanced out. She slides from her stool, the silky fabric of her dress falling back into place over her smooth skin. “Have a good evening, gentlemen.”

“Smooth, Geralt, ” Jaskier murmurs disparagingly into his ear. Geralt thumps the earpiece in reprimand, covering it as a light scratch at the back of his neck.

“Well, sorry, I, uh… tough break.” The bartender hisses through his teeth as she departs.

“Oh, don’t worry, that break happened a good few years ago,” Geralt smirks and takes a long draw from the tumbler in his hand. “You’re not French.” American, definitely; west coast, perhaps inland California.

“Well-spotted,” the barman replies, with that same subtle quirk at the corner of his lips. “And neither are you. So, if you’re not here for pleasure—,” he glances after Yen, who’d now disappeared from the dining hall completely, “—that means you’re here for business. Posh suit, neat haircut, genuine Rolex. Must be successful.”

“Hmm,” Geralt leans on his forearms. “Or I could’ve just blown my credit card in hopes of presenting a certain image. Women love a big spender.”

“Nah,” the barman shook his head. “Those types have an over exaggerated swagger—like they want everyone to think they should be here because they don’t belong—and they always make the mistake of wearing cheap cologne. You,” he pauses in his fastidious wiping of the bar to take a deep breath, eyes flickering briefly closed, “are wearing Frederic Malle. Nearly four hundred dollars a bottle. High roller. Only spends money he has, which means he can only get richer.”

Geralt tilts his head, intrigued. “Very impressive. Perhaps I need to be a little more discreet.”

“Don’t,” he shakes his head. “Only way I can tell who’ll tip well and who’ll blow me off. Nothing worse than serving Mr Big Spender all night, maybe playing his wingman, only to get a measly few Euros tucked under a beer mat when he saunters off with a pretty girl on his arm.”

“Smart.”

“Survival instinct,” he replies. “To be honest, compared to the ladies, I reckon I get the better end of the deal. Top up?”

“Name first,” Geralt moves his tumbler out of the way of the barman’s hands, eyebrows quirked.

“You want my name in exchange for pouring you a drink?” There was that smile again; it was so subtle, but with the flash in those brilliant hazel eyes, Geralt felt his heart skip a beat.

“Well, so far, you’ve chased away a potential date—as disastrous as it no doubt would have been—by throwing me off with a smile,” Geralt taps the edge of his glass. “I’d say a name is a fair trade.”

“Wow, Geralt. That was… actually quite smooth, well done, ” Jaskier, who has been observing the whole thing with growing amusement, coaches from the outside. Fuck off, ferret.

“Eskel,” the barman replies, grabbing the bottle of whiskey from the back shelf. “And this one’s on the house if I can get a name in return.

“Geralt…” Jaskier warns.

“James,” Geralt says as he watches the  amber liquid swirl around his glass from the bottle neck. “Eskel. Never heard that name before.”

“It’s a nickname,” Eskel replies as he puts the stopper back in the crystal decanter.

“So, what do I have to do to get your real one?”

“Impress me.” Eskel sweeps the towel from the bar and tucks it in his belt. When he leans forward, the heels of his palms braced on polished wood, Geralt can’t help but admire the way his chest flexes into his shirt and waistcoat. It’s deliberate. He isn’t foolish. This is a man confident in his looks, even with the scars on his face; he knows what he has and knows how to flaunt it.

“Impress you,” Geralt considers his drink. “Well, since you’re so observant, perhaps you’ll let me do the same?”

“Go ahead,” Eskel bows his head, and Geralt can’t get enough of how his eyes glitter with amusement. And intelligence. Some people you can just look at and know. He had a brain that worked quicker than everyone else’s, but he didn’t flaunt that; he was quietly brilliant. The most intriguing kind.

“Hey, smooth operator, I can’t look him up if I don’t have a real name, and he hasn’t looked at the security cameras once,” Jaskier lets off a long-suffering sigh and begins to tap at the keys. “Running Eskel through French border control. You know, just in case.”

“You’re well built,” Geralt drops his eyes, not bothering to mask his appraisal. “But it’s not steroids. It’s the kind that comes from hard work and a good diet. The way you carry yourself up and down the bar; there’s a quiet confidence in it, and the fact that you can take the measure of someone in a room just by a glance. You’ve had roles with authority that have required the habit of peak physical fitness, and awareness of danger. Police, perhaps the military,” he watches Eskel’s eyes drop, “the military then.”

“Checking American military records.”

“Pretty good so far. How’d I end up here?”

Geralt leans back, arms folded. “Potentially two reasons. First, invalided out,” he waits for the reaction, but there isn’t one and so he continues, “or, you just realised the promise of ‘come see the world, son’ wasn’t so great when you were viewing it through a scope. You decided to see it on your own terms.”

“Alright, I have to know,” Eskel stands up straight again. “What gives the second part away?”

“Geralt, nothing’s coming up…”

“Shared experience,” Geralt smiles and he’s relieved when it’s returned. “Are there rules here for drinking on the clock?”

“There are rules for everything here,” Eskel glances down the length of the bar to where his fellow tender serves an older gentleman with an impressive moustache. “Why, you offering to buy me a drink, high roller?”

“I’ll, uh, I’ll try civilian records, but… I don’t think he’s telling the truth about the military, you know? Americans are fastidious about this sort of thing.”

“Perhaps more than one,” Geralt takes another sip and the burn as it passes through his chest bolsters his confidence.

“Tell me,” Eskel bends down to begin emptying the dishwasher, and Geralt does precisely nothing to restrain himself from having a good ogle at that backside. “The ‘you smell nice’ line. That ever work?”

“I was under pressure,” Geralt grumbles, but flushes to the very tips of his ears. “And you used exactly the same one on me about ten minutes ago.”

“No,” Eskel lifts a finger. “It was different. And, I think you’ll find, my version worked.”

“Oh, did it?” Geralt’s eyebrows shoot up, and then sink slowly when he’s flashed another of those disarming grins. The quirk in Eskel’s upper lip just makes it all the more beautiful; there’s no smile in the world like it. It’s entirely unique. And in this moment, it’s all Geralt’s. “Pour me another, Prince Charming, I’m gonna’ need it to keep up.”

They talk the rest of the evening away. When Eskel’s shift finishes, he undoes his bow tie and Geralt’s eyes struggle to leave the slope of his collarbone as he pops his top button. Eskel is smooth, polite and bloody hilarious. They move closer as they chat, one of Eskel’s knees set between Geralt’s, inviting more intimacy, which Geralt readily accepts. To be flirted with, rather than doing all the heavy lifting; to be gazed upon like he’s actually attractive. The draw’s irresistible. Gentle touches of the hands, flirtatious, appraising eyes and a low, gravelly tone that makes Geralt’s insides melt. That velvet voice promises endless passion and pleasure; Geralt’s hooked in effortlessly.

When it comes time for last orders, Geralt thinks nothing of inviting Eskel up to his suite. As Eskel walks ahead to get to the lift, Jaskier pipes up in Geralt’s ear. “I still can’t find him anywhere official, I mean, I’ve got his social security number. I’ve found his facebook page though. Esben is his first name. Parents look nice. It’s… hmm, just make sure you put the codes somewhere safe, alright?”

“Good night, Jaskier,” Geralt breathes, and removes the earpiece discreetly. He’d definitely prefer not to have such a judgemental audience for the next bit, because he was rather hoping this adonis was going to ruin him. They make it into the lift before he’s in Eskel’s arms and pushed up against the cold glass of the mirror at the back.

Skilful lips devour his neck as firm hands stroke down his sides beneath his suit jacket, blunt nails teasing through the thin material of his shirt. Eskel grabs his thighs and lifts him, their hips grinding together, and Geralt can feel the swell of his cock through the starched fabric of his trousers. “Oh, fuck.” He doesn’t mean for it to come out as a whine, but if that’s what it feels like confined within underwear, then it’s going to be a beast. His insides clench with need as Eskel leaves possessive marks down his neck, and growls. They fall over each other as they work their way down the hall, and Geralt’s already tugging at Eskel’s belt when they reach his room...

Part 1; Part 3

[stefciastark]

Metal Arm ~ Webpril Day 7

A/N: Here is Part 1 of what will be a 2 part mini-story. Doombots threaten Manhattan, but with a significantly reduced team and some bad luck, things don't go so smoothly for Peter. It only briefly touches on the 'metal arm' prompt, but this is also inspired by a request from Hannah on AO3 to write a bit of 'post-battle injured Peter hides his injury and won't admit anything is wrong.' I'm really excited to write Part 2 tomorrow, had a lot of fun writing this first part!

~Read on AO3

~Read on FFN

Peter had never really been strangled, yet today it had happened not twice, not thrice, but it was bordering on his fourth time being on the receiving end of a chokehold. The Doombot cutting off his air circulation ended up being at the wrong place at the wrong time however, as three out of its four limbs were obliterated and sent to mecha-heaven. All except the one heavily bicep-ed metal arm that clung to his throat like shit to a shovel.

“Get. OFF,” he gritted through his teeth, tearing the appendage off of his throat and tossing what was now just a torso, head and forelimb onto the growing pile of Doom scrap metal.

He had to take a breather for a moment and remind himself that these were robots and not real people. Despite how convinced their A.Is were that they were in fact the real Doctor Doom, their suicide missions were nothing more than a result of malevolent - albeit skilled - programming.

“You good, kid?” The Ironman suit hovered a few feet away from Peter, appearing to dance slightly in the air as Peter’s brain started playing ‘catchup’ with oxygen. He felt himself nodding in response, muting his comms momentarily so that what was present of the Avengers wouldn’t hear his breathing; he was pretty sure the exhaust pipe on the old Vauxhall Cavalier his uncle used to own sounded healthier.

The team was small today; Thor was offworld, Bruce didn’t feel like having another near miss after almost levelling another city during an incident the week prior near Seattle, and Clint was - as Tony put it - too busy ‘playing house’ in the country. That left Tony, Peter, and Natasha Romanoff on the mission. Peter was unsure whether to call her Nat, Romanoff, or use her Black Widow alias, and instead anxiously settled for using none of the above and simply avoided using any moniker to address her whatsoever. It had worked out for him well so far.

While it was by no means a three person job, they would have to make do, and so far, they were making...something happen. The showdown had initially begun in Hell’s Kitchen and was progressively and concerningly migrating towards the Lower East Side. The closer the action got to the east side of Manhattan, the closer it got to Brooklyn, and the closer it got to Brooklyn, the more there was a chance of the threat moving to Queens, and Peter wanted to keep the rough and tumble away from his neck of the woods if he could. So far they had left in their wake twelve office buildings turned to rubble, eleven burst sewer pipes, and at least ten separate fires that he was pretty sure were still burning. All they needed now were nine civilian casualties and they were almost halfway to rewriting ‘The Twelve Days of Christmas’.

Tony didn’t have time to follow up with Peter’s uncharacteristic lack of a verbal response as two Doombots that had split from the herd attached themselves to the red and gold armour, their green capes combining with the suit to make a metallic caricature of a Christmas tree. Tony had a whole three seconds of warning before their self-destruct protocols were activated, and everything within a 300-foot radius erupted in a shower of rubble, flames, and smoke.

The suit - for the most part - diminished Tony’s impact with the building adjacent to the Tenement Museum. Peter didn’t quite have the luxury of inches-thick armour, and as he sailed diagonally across Delancey St through the glass window of Double Chicken Please, he made a personal vow to make them his new go-to fried chicken joint as a form of apology.

“Stark, was that you?” Nat (Peter decided that was the name he felt most comfortable with) queried over the comms, the distant sound of shots being fired and the purring motorcycle beneath her leaking into the background.

A stream of expletives from the man in question poured in through his suit’s speakers. Peter found it funny that if it were anyone but Tony in any other situation other than their current predicament, the frankly obscene amounts of swearing would be concerning.

“How many left on your end, Rushman?” There was a groan and the uncomfortably familiar sound of shifting rubble. “I think we’ve just about wrapped up here.”

Peter had been working on gently extricating himself from where he lay in a supine position behind the bar, struggling to hold onto consciousness through a haze of pain. The wall between Double Chicken Please and Subway had collapsed, half of it inconsiderately laying across his chest. He noted wryly that he didn’t expect himself to be battling unconsciousness behind a bar until he was at least twenty-one, yet here he was, five years too early.

A large bang went off from what sounded like only a block away, which was then followed by a moment of complete and utter stillness.

“I think our last guests just left the party,” offered as an explanation from Nat, finally breaking the silence.

“Don’t you hate it when you have company and they don’t even offer to help clean up? I am sickened by the youth of today.” Tony had managed to disentangle himself from what could now barely be called a building. The engineer was able to identify the date of manufacture on the most recent wave of Doombots - they were only three months old. “Speaking of, Spiderling, let’s get this cleaned up. I have a date with takeaway and my favourite sweatpants waiting for me at home.”

“Try not to wreck any more buildings while I’m gone, boys,” Nat said, immediately beginning her commute to the Avengers facility.

Natasha had become the face of the Avengers during the inevitable PR followups that seemed to accompany any and every brush with threat since the Chitauri attack on New York. She was level-headed and presented well, and so far had the least amount of tallies on the “PR Fuck-ups” chart that hung in the communal kitchen in place of a calendar. It was the team’s personal inside joke that S.H.I.E.L.D didn’t approve of, which of course made them double down their efforts if it meant ruffling Nick Fury’s feathers.

“Try not to wreck my public image, it’s what funds those luxury bath bombs you keep ordering,” Tony shot back, no venom in his teasing words.

Peter was otherwise occupied during his teammates’ little exchange. He had his arms arranged in an upside down tricep pushup position, palms pressing against the sizable concrete slab that occupied the space from his waist to his sternum. As he lifted the offending cement off of him, he very nearly dropped it back down as the air rushed out of his lungs. Something in his chest shifted sickeningly, followed by a stabbing pain that burned everything from his ribs to his airways. Failure never an option, he persevered, relieved when the hunk of wall finally slid gracelessly down the pile of debris.

He thought having a literal chunk of concrete off his chest would feel better.

“Pete?” His name was said with such a mixture of impatience, exhaustion, and concern that Peter found his nerves standing on red alert. This would be the first hour of many on cleanup duties

Taking a wavering breath, afraid to breathe too deeply, he steadied his voice and activated his comms. “Sure thing Mr Stark, on my way!”

Peter winced; he definitely overdid it on the enthusiasm. With every step he took his discomfort grew until the pain from his chest radiated down to his hips and he had to stop himself from hunching over and limping his way back to the Delancey St intersection. There were only two of them now, a whole lot of city to tidy up, and not a whole lot of time to spend fussing over what was probably just some deep tissue bruising. Plus, this was his first call to action since July, and it was now approaching the end of November.

Bracing himself for the amount of suckthe next few hours would entail, he gritted his teeth against the throbbing that rolled like waves from deep within his chest, and prepared to put on his best Oscar-worthy performance he’d titled: “I’m Fine - A Teenager’s Pledge”.

There was no way he was going to let Tony down.

A/N: There we have it! Things didn't go so smoothly for Peter, and I know he has superior healing and all but this poor boy needs some more safety built into his suit. Tomorrow will be the Part 2 fill for this mini-story, so check back in for the concluding part :) Thank you for all your continued support, kudos, and comments. Please feel free to send any fic requests into my Asks! Sending hugs to you all <3

[kelseywood94]

"Why is it that women are chiefly addicted to evil superstitions” [GMS Brief]

[Written Piece: 998 words]

When I started researching the most influential typographers in history, I noticed this was a field dominated in the early ages by men, such John Baskerville, a wealthy industrialist who created Baskerville in 1754; Max Miedinger, the father of Swiss design and creator of Helvetica in 1960 (arguably the most popular type face in the world today) or Stanley Morris, a scholar who designed Times New Roman when he joined The Times in 1929, another unmistakable font around the world.  

I thought I would investigate this further and stumbled upon an article titled “Where Are the Women in Type Design” from 2011. It was in reading this article and the comments attached that I realised, it was articles such as this that were damning to the women who are type face designers and have paved the way for graphic design across the globe. The article was a typical ‘victimization’ of females within a ‘male industry’. The writer of this article could not be more wrong, and I therefore chose to highlight the many women in typeface design who have shaped the design world today.  

Women have been involved in typography since the creation of manuscripts with nuns producing these as early as 339AD for the Church; typesetting in Italy on the works of Luigi Pulci in 1481; Anna Rugerin’s name appearing on a publication in 1484, the first female to do so and of course, Girolama Cartolari who ran a print shop in Rome 1543 – 1559.  

 - Details of Gorlama Cartolaris emblem, 1545

Typography is more than words, and when presented in an inventive, expressive or artistic way, becomes one of the most inspiring forms of design. Here are some of the most inspiring women to have contributed to the world of typography as we know it today.  

Freda Sack 1951 – 2019  

The late Freda Sack was an industry legend, paving the way for typography in the UK and all over the world.  

Starting at a Letraset-type studio, Sack mastered her trade-in type & stencil cutting, quickly making her mark, giving the UK commercial landscape a typographical shape with clients such as British Airways, the Yellow Pages and Vauxhall when she went freelance in 1983. Her fascination with typefaces developed her attention to detail and a sharpness of the eye her professional partner, David Quay, coined as “An uncanny skill I have never seen in any other typeface designer”  

 - The Foundry Types font Foundry Origin created by Sack

In 1990, Sack and Quay set up The Foundry Types – an independent type foundry and the first of its kind and with this, the birth of the Foundry typeface family and other experiments celebrating the likes of Bauhaus (’Architypes’ font) and ‘Gridnek’, a collaboration with Wim Crouwel.  

 - Sack’s modernist font Gridnek designed with Will Crouwel

During the 80’s Sack, worked at Typographic Systems International at the forefront of the ground-breaking Ikarus software – software used to digitize all photographic libraries of typefaces – the invention of the desktop computer made this work vital to the industry.  

The more recognition Sack received, the more she wished to encourage and educate others. She spent 15 years at the top of The International Society of Typographic Designers and in this time, expanded international award schemes, student assessment and organized lectures & exhibitions to further promote typography in the world. Many in the typographic industry owe their success to her achievements.  

Zuzana Licko  

Zuzana Licko was born in Bratislava and moved to the states in the ’60s where she studied Graphic Communication at California’s College of Environmental Design. During the early ’80s, Macintosh invented the first desktop and in 1984, Licko and her partner VanderLans started Emigre, a design company and independent type foundry. They were heavily influenced by the innovative technology and new possibilities available on the Macintosh computer. Emigre become an early adopter of this technology and began to create typefaces and new page layouts for Emigre Magazine.  

 - Lickos Modula Font

Licko worked methodically and with no real love of calligraphy after struggling with it at school as she was left-handed, she found it easier to create modular typefaces. Licko’s experimental type designs, prominently used for publication design, created a high demand and the library at Emigre grew greatly.  

 - Licko’s Lunatix Font

Licko’s fonts such as Low-Res, Mr/Mrs. Eaves, Lunatex and Modula became extremely popular in the world of design and saw Licko receive many accolades such as the Chrysler Award for Innovation in Design in 1994, the 1998 Charles Nypels Award for excellence in the field of typography and became a recipient of the 26th Type Directors Club Medal in 2016.

Gail Anderson  

Gail Anderson is a graphic designer & educator from the Bronx and is the first generation in her family to receive a formal education, graduating from the NY School of Visual Arts having been taught by Paula Scher. Soon after she worked with Random house Vintage books before becoming the senior art director at Rolling Stone magazine. She then went on to Spotco, an agency specializing in the art of publication for theatre, Broadway and other entertainment arts.  

 - A poster for Martin Beck Theatre; Illustrator - James Victore

This professional experience gave Anderson a flair for theatrical advertising as well as several awards from The Art Directors Club, the Type Directors Club and AIGA. Anderson's passion for educating continued to see her write several publications such as The Typographic Universe, New Modernist Type & Graphic wit as well as permanent collections at The Cooper Hewitt Design Museum. 

  -  “ The highlight of my year—working with USPS art director Antonio Alcala and Jim Sherraden of Hatch Show Print.” Gail Andersons Blog

Andersons love for typography shines through in every piece of work, her obsessive eye and her fearless approach to design have given her the philosophy “the process has to be fun, and you need to be willing to step out of your comfort zone” and she continues to educate at the School of Visual Arts and her design firm, Anderson Newton Design, continues to provide the graphic design world with experimental, bold and exciting promotional material.

  These incredibly driven women have contributed to the beauty of the world around us through typography, graphic design, publication, advertising and of course, each of them has dedicated a lot of their time to further educate future generations on the importance of typography in our creative field.  

REFERENCES USED

“Where Are the Women in Type Design” Verena Garlich, Typographica

‘The First Female Typographer’ I Love Typography

‘Freda Sack’ Identifont  

‘Freda Sack’ Alphabettes  

‘Freda Sack – British type designer and typographer’ The Foundry Types  

‘Freda Sack’ International Society of Typographic Designers  

‘Freda Sack Obituary’ The Guardian  

‘Zuzana Licko’ Emigre  

Laura Webber “Women typeface designers” RIT Scholar Works  

‘Zuzana Licko’ MyFonts  

‘Zuzana Licko’ Adobe Fonts  

Gail Anderson, Curly Gail.com  

Gail Anderson Biography, Black Arts Story  

Anderson Newton Design

[somar78]

DE LOREAN DMC-12 1981 - 1982 by Imagonos 5. Eisenberger Stadtrallye 2017 Die DeLorean Motor Company (DMC) war ein Projekt des ehemaligen General-Motors-Vizepräsidenten John DeLorean mit dem Ziel, Sportwagen herzustellen. DMC wurde 1975 gegründet und 1981 wurde im nordirischen Dunmurry begonnen, ein Modell mit einer Karosserie aus rostfreiem Stahl in Serie zu fertigen. Die von Giorgio Giugiaro gezeichnete Keilform und der matte Glanz der gebürsteten unlackierten Edelstahlkarosserie des Flügeltürers ließen das einzige Modell DeLorean DMC-12 modern und einzigartig erscheinen. Die Produktion musste allerdings nach 21 Monaten und etwa 9000 hergestellten Fahrzeugen eingestellt werden. Quelle: wikipedia Some of my groups and albums DIES UND DAS - BITS AND PIECES STRASSENPHOTOGRAPHIE - STREET PHOTOGRAPHY VINTAGE PHOTOGEAR AUTOPORTRAETS - CAR PORTRAITS ASPHALT VETERANEN - BLACKTOP VETERANS OPEL TOTAL OPEL / VAUXHALL CLASSICS OPEL RARITIES AND SPECIALS MASCHINE UND BEWEGUNG - MACHINE AND MOVING NIMM PLATZ - TAKE A SEAT MONOCHROME TO SEE ONLY IN 30/60 OPTED OUT GROUPS ! NUR IN GRUPPEN OHNE 30/60 RESTRIKTION ZU SEHEN https://flic.kr/p/2jLuFSe

[yeschauffeur]

Differentiating Between Taxi & Luxury Chauffeur Service

Is it worth to pay a little extra for a luxury chauffeur driver and what is the difference between a Taxi driver and a Chauffeur driver? Transportation service industry is packed with companies and drivers offering wide range of travel services. There is a lot to choose from. So how you, a potential client can make an informed decision from wedding chauffeur hire, about your options and who to use for your travel arrangements – taxis or chauffeurs?

Level of service

Most of the first class airport chauffeurs services drive high end cars, like Mercedes Benz S Class or executive range of Mercedes E Class & V Class. Some companies use BMW or Jaguar cars, but still, Mercedes brand is the one to go for, when you provide high standard chauffeured service. Taxis are quick and cheap, but majority of the hackney carriage operators use low range cars, like Toyota Prius or Vauxhall Zafira. Not ideal choice for style, looks or reliability. Dress code is also very important. No jeans, t-shirts and trainers. When it comes to wedding car hire in Perth, chauffeurs would be wearing a suit, a collared shirt, a tie and elegant shoes. It’s worth mentioning chauffeured vehicles cannot have visible advertising, so you cannot be identified as being driven in one of the private hire cars. Mainly business customers or VIP clients take advantage of it, so if you are after discretion and show off arrival, chauffeured service is the one for you.

Reliability

How in fact reliable is the service? It is often asked to quote a last-minute booking for an airport transfer or business trip, as local taxi has let the client down. Although seeing so many taxis being driven around, you would expect reliable and on time arrival service, yet often operators overbook or cancel the booking in full. That can leave you very frustrated. So, is it worth missing that important business meeting or friend’s wedding?

Airport chauffeurs service providers prioritise the superb and efficient on time service. Passenger is always notified who their driver is, the car they are driving and most importantly price, well in advance. No hidden charges, everything is transparent, meet and greet, parking charges or waiting time. With taxis it’s often hit and miss. The end price you pay is often high. Although chauffeured service is considered premium, the all-inclusive price is still much more cost effective and comparable to your local taxi rates. Interesting fact is that luxury fares are roughly only 20 percent higher than your standard taxis.

Personal touch

Companies that provide wedding chauffeur hire services have their team trained and certified to provide the highest standard of driving and personal service. No request is too much! Chauffeured booking is tailored around you. Driver can advise of the best route, places to visit and will take time to make sure your journey is seamless, smooth and safe. The cars have a choice of fresh, bottled water, Wi-Fi in case you must work on the move and phone charger, so you can always stay connected.

[nellygwyn]

Hannah Norsa (c. 1712-1784) was the first ever Jewish woman to appear on the English stage. Her father was Issachar Norsa, an Italian Jew from Mantua, who had moved to London in the early 1700s and by 1717, was running the Green Cannister tavern in Covent Garden with his brother, Abraham. Prior to this, he had been the owner of the famous Cocoa Tree Chocolate House in Pall Mall. Later, with his brother, he also became the owner of the Punch-Bowl tavern in Drury Lane and this is where Hannah probably spent most of her later childhood, growing up around the theatre. Her mother, Esther de Aharon de Chaus, was most probably a Londoner, active in London’s thriving Jewish community, and had married Hannah’s father at Bevis St. Mark’s Synagogue (which still stands today) in 1714. Horace Walpole recounted meeting Hannah’s father at a trial of rebel Jacobite lords in 1746 and being thoroughly amused by his wit regarding politics. 

Hannah must have been talent scouted at an early age because, by 1732, she was making her stage debut as Polly Peachum in John Gay’s comedic ballad opera ‘The Beggar’s Opera.’ Polly Peachum was a favourite with 18th century English theatre-goers and Hannah, by all accounts, performed the role with aplomb. She sang and acted beautifully. Her popularity in the part was probably only ever surpassed by Lavinia Fenton who had played Polly in the earliest performances of the play. Following this success, Hannah was sought for both operatic and non-singing parts. Her younger sister, Rachel, and one of her brothers may also have appeared on the stage following Hannah’s success as a ‘Little Miss Norsa’ and ‘Master Norsa’ are listed amongst those who were present at one of Hannah’s benefit performances in 1735, as well as amongst those children (mostly sons, daughters and siblings of the actors in the Drury Lane company) playing ‘Lilliputians’ in a play a few years later. 

Her popularity and frequent appearance in Georgian England’s best plays inevitably put in the path of many rich gentlemen. Amongst the aristocracy, it was de rigeur to take an actress as a lover and mistress. In 1736, Hannah was the lover of Robert Walpole, the eldest son of the elder Robert Walpole, Earl of Orford, Britain’s first Prime Minister and the most powerful man in Britain, under the king, during his lifetime. The younger Robert’s marriage with his wife had broken down and when he inherited the earldom of Orford in 1745, Hannah left the stage and went to live permanently with him as his long-term mistress and partner. They had one child together, a son also called Robert, but he died in infancy. Robert himself died in 1751, in his late 40s, and stipulated in his will that his son and heir (born to him and his official wife) was to take care of Hannah and keep her from harm or debt. Robert himself had been deeply in debt near the end of his life and it is thought that Hannah financially supported him with the considerable amount of money she had made as an actress. 

During their time together, Robert and Hannah had been notably fond of each other, often seen by Horace Walpole, Robert’s younger brother and man-of-letters, together in Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens or at the theatre. Horace referred to Hannah as ‘our Norsa,’ indicating she was, at least in some way (Horace was well aware of her status as his brother’s mistress as he called her ‘my brother’s concubine,” too), part of the Walpole family unit. Hannah was well liked amongst Robert’s friends, too, and Barbara Kerrich, a friend of the family via her husband, wrote of Hannah in 1749:  To tell you ye truth I made Mrs Norsa a vissit first my Lord ask’d me several times very kindly, I believe it was taken well, for she soon return’d it, I wouldn’t tell you of my Vissit because I didn’t know what you wou’d think of it, for I don’t know but it might be cutting a bold stroke, She is a very agreeable Woman, & Nobody ever behav’d better in her Station, She have every body’s good word, and bear great Sway at Houghton, She is every thing but Lady. 

Hannah herself never married and had a long, fairly active life post-Walpole, never returning to the stage but choosing to live amongst actors and those with ties to the theatre. She was admired by later actresses of great renown, such as the late 18th century Anglo-Irish actress, George Anne Bellamy. She died relatively prosperous, in 1784, leaving around £3400 in investments in Treasury stocks. She was successful in a world where Jewish people existed but were merely tolerated, rather than respected or celebrated. The music historian, David Conway, said of Hannah’s success in his book on Jewish involvement in the history of music: Here we have an archetypal tale of how stage stardom might lead to social transformation.

[christian-kent]

'Hopton' Camper Conversion for Vauxhall Vivaro Mk3, Peugeot Expert and Toyota ProAce by CCCAMPERS for just £11999.00 So what's included in the 'Hopton' conversion? Kitchen Cupboard / Wardrobe Colours available from stock is DRIFTWOOD & SILVER TRIM with matching corners. BLACK & BLACK TRIM Worktop & Table, But again you can bespoke this if you wish! Consists of a curved worktop with well thought out storage underneath. The wardrobe has a rear tambour door (x 2 in LWB to guarantee no obstruction to the rock & roll bed. It also includes storage pockets above the worktop and at the rear to put your regularly used items in for easy access. Cooker / Fridge / Sink Dometic gas double burner hob, and sink with tap and glass worktops. Dometic 50 Ltr 12 volt Compressor fridge, giving plenty of use between battery charging (via the fitted onboard split charge system) - not the old fashioned 2 and 3 way gas, 12 & 240 volt fridges as are often fitted in 'budget' conversions giving only a couple of hours use on your leisure battery. Bed and Seating area The CCCAMPERS M1 crash tested 'Bliss' bed/seat is fully upholstered in black. Fixed travelling table. The table is removable with a folding leg so easily tucked away. The Water, Gas, 12 & 240 Volt RCD Trip switched protected 240-volt electric hook up system with a single socket. 12 volt led battery level tester with easy access fuses. LED lighting and micro switched flow controlled tap. Which is all connected to a 70 amp split charging system with leisure battery running the whole of your conversion. 30-litre water system and water level monitor. This positioned in the spare wheel carrier and tyre protector is put in all wheels to gain a 5% discount with most insurance companies. Never have a puncture on the side of the road again. See Here The Bed incorporates a metal-enclosed Campingaz 2.75 kg Butane locker this was tested to M1 Standards for total peace of mind safety. Carpet line, floor, windows, curtains and thermo mats for the cab This includes:- Two fitted standard mid windows Passengers side rear window and driver side access panel. Insulate and carpet line with extra detail and shape in the rear of your van. Commercial grade flooring. Thermos Blinds for the front cab and rear curtains for all windows. The carpet colour is grey and the rear floor is covered in commercial quality black vinyl. Pop Top / Elevating Roof This can be full colour coded to match your camper but comes as standard in GRP White. The roof is manufactured to the highest standard and incorporates a front spoiler. This will be fitted rear opening as standard. This is to ensure maximum safety while on the move and protection from the roof opening dangerously when travelling. Want to make your Hopton conversion have a little more comfort and style, then Click Here for all available upgrades. Finance Available Warranty Details All converted vans will be cleaned inside and out to a good workshop standard. But why not have the Showroom Ex...