#bathurts

[postcard-from-the-past]

Women sorting nuts in Bathurts, modern-day Banjul, Gambia

French vintage postcard

[garciathegreat15]

Walking parallels #fdrx7 #fd #bathurts #rx7 #rotary #japan #kamakura #yellow #mazdarx7 (at Enoshima/Kamakura) https://www.instagram.com/p/CqUEvCSSj7H/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[hectorshavershian]

[newenglandgirl]

Can I make a confession?

I think I have a bit of a crush on Robert Bathurst. Not necessarily as Strallen, but...

[dewhitphotography]

congratulations to the acadie-bathurst titan on winning not only the qmjhl championship but the memorial cup too, the first qmjhl to do that since 2013. photo: katie whitty

[ginkovskij]

i had a lovely morning at the non-catholic cemetery! it was so nice and quiet, and there was a pleasant wind that made the trees sing softly!

then my relatives admitted they were curious about "my poets" and asked me about keats, shelley (and bathurts), which made me super happy! i loved to tell all the little silly facts about our beloved junkets and, you know, be listened for real!

[smolbeandrabbles]

Temperance: Hide The Wine - Sheriff of Nottingham (Robin Hood 2018)

Author’s Note: Requested By Anon! Thank you for the request dearest Anon, and bless you! 😘💜 I hope you enjoy! Carly Pearce - Hide the Wine ~ this song literally came to me in the middle of the night where I woke up with the song stuck in my head and thought “OH! that’s much better than the one I’ve chosen!”, It’s a lot more light hearted which I feel fits what I’m going for here...

Disclaimer: No characters from Robin Hood are miiiine / Otto Bathurt’s crazy Robin Hood world is also not mine / lyrics & gifs as ever not mine! Premise: Upon receiving an invitation to a party in Nottingham you vow to yourself that this time, this time you won’t drink and you won’t end up in bed with the Sheriff... Words: 4460 Warnings: Sexual Amble (it’s not quite smut) 

______ I heard you were back in town Oh well, it's been a hot minute since me and you were hanging out Yeah, we had that crazy kind of chemistry Where you get burned, don't learn, don't care Just reach for another match and gasoline

Better hide the wine, and get it gone Oh I better hide every one of them records that turn me on  Turn up the lights, and kill the mood 'Cause baby I just don't trust myself with you I better hide the wine

Well I know me and I know you... Oh oh with one sip, one tip, we'll be sitting on the couch You'll be kicking off your shoes Oh knock-knock, here you come a-knockin' on my door But you're gonna have to wait another minute on the porch Oh no, no, it's a dangerous thing Pouring alcohol on an old flame ---

noun

Abstinence from alcoholic drink.

Temperance is defined as moderation or voluntary self-restraint. It is typically described in terms of what an individual voluntarily refrains from doing.

You knew the game. How many times had you played it? Too many. But this time, this time, you swore not to get dragged into it. You wouldn’t play. No matter how hard he tried to get you to. No matter how much you wanted to. And you always wanted to. But it went around and around. Ever since you’d been much younger. Ever since he’d caught your eye, and you his, around Foundling House. Before he got a fancy title; and attire to go with it. When he was young and angry, and would sneak you to the roof with the best bottle of wine he could find, and he’d yell to let of steam. He’d yell for the sake of yelling… like he did now. Except back them he didn’t have the authority to make that yelling go anywhere. Now he did. When the yelling was over, and the bottle was finished, you’d both sneak elsewhere. And that’s what you always looked forward to. He grew up and moved on. Sort of. He was older than you and could do such things. Still surrounded by so much he hated, sometimes he would return to where you grew up. To where you knew him back when he had a name, not a title. And that was dangerous. Because he would always carry with him a good bottle of wine. One thing would always lead to another and the next thing you were aware of there were clothes all over the floor, and you were back to the familiarity of the warmth and scent of his body. The sounds he made. The sounds you made – but only for him. You longed for that as much as he did. But that was all it was. On and off, and on and off again. Never serious; you were sure neither of you wanted anything serious as it was. But that didn’t stop you thinking you could move on. And it didn’t stop him from coming after you. On rare occasions, very rare occasions, you would be called to him. To Nottingham. And it just so happened that when a rider and invitation appeared at your door; you were called again. This was worse. At lavish parties that the Sheriff hosted you couldn’t escape alcohol and you couldn’t escape him. And it was alcohol, wasn’t it? That made you unable to resist each other. Because it never seemed to start with anything else. Sure, you didn’t have to attend. But that would be rude. You liked to remind him who he really was. Of the company he used to keep (that you bet he wished he still could keep). To alleviate the boredom. Especially on his side; what did he do all day anyway? This time though you had vowed, no drinking… You wouldn’t goad him, or tease him, or hell, even want him. You would take it like two friends catching up. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to hold on. But holding on to him for your entire life? You were fairly certain that at some point you should realise that this was all it was going to be. He’d be married eventually; you were surprised the Church hadn’t coerced him into that yet… and you had met someone else. But, that also wasn’t serious. Trouble was, you had a feeling that this one could be something, could develop into something, that whatever you had with the Sheriff was not… So you accepted the invite. And when the time came you made your way to Nottingham. And this time you were nearly intent on avoiding him entirely. If not for any reason other than to torture him yourself.

*** Your dress flowed gently behind you, off-shoulder and low cut, pulling in at the waist you knew exactly what you were doing by wearing this. There wasn’t any point wearing anything inconspicuous anyway, he’d still find you. In which case you might as well flaunt it; show him what he couldn’t have. Or what you were intent on denying him. If you could. Avoiding him wasn’t as hard as you’d imagined. This dress and the way you’d dressed up tonight drew people to you. Those who didn’t know you wanted to find out exactly who you were. Those that did clearly wanted to talk to you for other reasons… What was certainly unusual for you, was every drink you were offered you refused. There was nothing better than being offered or bought a drink. Especially from charming young men who might well make the Sheriff jealous. But then he’d cut in, obviously scare the other man off, you’d both be drinking and one thing would lead to another, meaning you’d wake up in his bed again. So there was absolutely no way a drop of alcohol was passing your lips. Having said that, you weren’t actively trying to avoid him; you actually wanted to make eye contact and tease him, but also make sure he got nowhere near you. Having said that it wasn’t hard; everyone always wanted to be all over the Sheriff – female or otherwise. And for a multitude of reasons. But the only one he wanted to be all over, or to be all over him was you. And tonight you weren’t playing. He’d seen you – oh, of course he had, how could he not? – wandering this party looking flawless… But he hadn’t been able to escape the usual crowd, or the Lords, yet. He wanted to escape this as quickly as possible and go over to you. But every conversation he dismissed had him falling right into another. And it was frustrating because he so desperately wanted you. Of course he invited you as a friend, but, that wasn’t what you really were. And when he’d received your acceptable note back, the Sheriff knew exactly why you’d come. For exactly the same reason he wanted you here. Because he craved that intimacy. To talk to someone who would hold him close, and listen, and understand, and run their fingers through his hair. No judgement, no opinion (at least not one that would oppose his. Usually you saw his viewpoint completely… Or calmed him down.), no strings. He could love on you as much as he wanted, and it would never be anything more than that.

** Eventually of course he caught you, so you had no choice by to converse with him; “Would you like some wine?” “Uh, no. I don’t think so.” “That’s very unusual for you… Let me get you something…” He snapped his fingers to beckon a waiter over “NO. No, trust me… I won’t be drinking a drop.” “Well, we can’t all be expected to follow suit, can we? Come on, I’ll have something, you should toast…” “Toast what?!” You looked around you, “A successful party? I can do that without alcohol.” You weren’t sure you liked the small smirk on his face; “Oh? Can you really? What are you worried about; I’ve seen you when you’re very, very far gone before – what happened? When did you get boring on me?” “…I’m well aware of what you’ve seen when I’ve been drinking…” “OHHHH – Is that what you’re worried about…” He pulled himself in closer to you; “Like that isn’t the reason you came here…” “Its-” “In that dress…?” The Sheriff’s voice was dark and husky, and you thought you might need a real drink to still everything. “…Huh, Y/N…” You couldn’t hold his eyes, no way, but that made your eyes focus on his chest; all the toning underneath all that wool and leather. You swallowed hard, and he noticed “That’s it… Don’t deny it…” You took a breath, and somehow with it came the courage to face those cold blue eyes. Not cold to you, but everyone else; and they were darker now. And you knew why when you could feel him this close to you. You loved watching them change like that; maybe this time around you’d missed your chance; “I’m not confirming or denying anything… But I’m certainly not drinking.” “Surely you won’t object to me drinking…?” “No.” Although you did, if this was going to work you’d prefer not to have him basically hanging all over you due to the amount he’d drunk. Because you were still supposed to be making sure what you both wanted didn’t happen. But, mmmmhn… The scent of him, the heat you could feel that you so desperately wanted to be wrapped up in now you were here…  He wasn’t touching you, but God, you knew it would feel so good if he did. Instead his hands were behind him, keeping his back straight. You had to bite your lip to stop the small moan escaping your lips at the thought of leaving scratches there… He could see it on your face, and that made him bend towards you; “Come on… Y/N… Tell me why you’re here…” It was weird, for him to be here, this close and talking like this and no one seeming to pay any attention. Because they sure had been paying a lot of attention to the both of you separately. Had he told them to leave him alone, had he told them to leave you both alone? You shook your head, because if you opened your mouth he’d know you were an outright liar – or worse, the truth would spill. But that only made his smirk broaden and then he did pull you into him, and you gasped. “Tell me.” “You know…” “Of course I know…” he kept that voice at a steady almost-growl “…I want to hear you say it.” “NO.” “Why not?” “Never!” Suddenly pulling you to him wasn’t enough, he had to touch your skin, taste your lips. Have you in any way that you would have him. So you found his lips on yours. And your hands on his coat didn’t push him away; but pull him in. But this was wrong; so wrong. It was exactly what you couldn’t allow yourself to have. What you didn’t want… But damn you wanted it so bad. You could taste the wine on his lips, and realised that your promise of no alcohol was quickly being thrown out of the window. Eventually you came to your senses enough to push him back; this was wildly inappropriate in the public eye. What the HELL was he doing?! “Control yourself!” Now your voice was at a growl and your eyes were fierce “We’re not sneaking around at Foundling House anymore…!!” “No we aren’t, my darling… But we could still do a lot of sneaking…” He raised his eyebrows as if to make a point, just in case you weren’t getting it. You let him go and took a few steps backwards; “Sneaking…?” and you finally smiled “I’d like to see you do any sneaking any more… Sheriff…” But now you’d had your first taste, your first sip and you craved more. But if he got to kissing you here, you’d be at the bar, you’d drink... it’d get messy... If you got to kissing elsewhere... Hold on, Y/N, kissing shouldn’t even come into this... the whole point was not to be caught up in him tonight. But then the Sheriff had a point; why did you come? if not to get tangled up with him, literally. Nottingham wasn’t your style, so it made very little sense for you to want to come here for any other reason. Parties where alright but also not your scene so... he was your only reason. And you could tease him all you liked, but what you should have expected was retaliation; him to tease you back or him to really go for it. And he did, no mercy... You kept your eyes trained on him and his on you as you hurried to the hall doors. You turned, one last glance. The choice was his. He followed you and you both got what you wanted, or he didn’t and you left knowing you’d done what you’d prescribed to yourself as the right thing. Did you even know what the right thing was? One last look to determine if he was brave enough and you slipped through the door. Of course he was. It would be stupid to think otherwise. And you weren’t far down the corridor you were making your way down before you heard footsteps. But that just made you walk faster... Suddenly the second echo stopped and you paused, when it didn’t pick up again you turned.  The corridor was empty. You took one step forward, puzzled. Was it even him you had heard? Who else would it be? But if so where did they go?! They weren’t walking up the other hallway, you could see this corridor stretch ahead of you. And you hadn’t heard a door open, although there was one almost adjacent to the one you had walked through. You became unnerved to realise that the sound you could hear was your own breathing, and your heart beating in your ears. You almost sounded scared; unless it was exhilaration? You continued watching the corridor, intrigued and listened out for anything that could possibly signal that anyone else was around. Sheriff of Nottingham or otherwise. In one swift movement from your left your question was answered, although in the dim lighting you couldn’t see exactly who had grabbed you; it caught you off guard, but your attempt to shriek was stifled by a hand clamped firmly over your mouth as you were dragged across the corridor. Your back came into contact with a stone colonnade and you protested again at the way it pressed up against your back.

You came face to face with those blue eyes - now shining silver in the light that made its way in

“If you wanted me alone why didn’t you just say so-!?” He hissed, removing his hand from your mouth you didn’t have time to retaliate before he replaced it with his lips. And once again you were met with the sweet intoxication of alcohol. Ugh, give me my Sin again He tangled his fingers in your hair and didn’t show any signs of stopping the kiss. Well, now you knew exactly where you were you didn’t feel like stopping it either. And your hands ran fervently from his chest to his neck; pulling him ever closer so that his body pressed up against yours again. He broke the kiss for respite, but not from you, and you could have killed him. “To be honest this has not gone according to plan!” “Oh?” Instead he kissed your cheek and down to your jaw line “And why is that? Don’t tell me you don’t want me!?” “N-no...” Although your protest sounded more like a whine of delight “...just like I don’t want any alcohol...” “Ah... I see...” His lips found your neck and his head pushed yours to gain exposure. And now your fingers ran into his hair and you tipped your head back for him. Ugh! I hate you! I hate you! You’d been doing this so long he knew your body like his. And what you really liked never changed much in all those years. “You’re attempt to abstain was a valiant effort...” The Sheriff whispered against your skin “...But sometimes we just have to give in to what we want most...” You didn’t have enough fight left in you to retort with Oh? And that’s you is it?! “Well, if it has to be one or the other-”

You gasped as he lifted you from the ground; back still up against the colonnade his hands slipped under your dress to grip your thighs as his lips found yours again. Some resistance Y/N... well, if you weren’t going to resist you might as well join in and not miss out. Your hands found the clasps on his jacket and afterwards the fastenings on his shirt with ease. This was almost second nature. You wrapped your legs around him to another growl that reverberated (delightfully) through your body. You almost smirked into the kiss as his hands travelled further across your skin; pulling you further into him - but this time accompanied by the slightly harsh grind of his hips into yours. You had to break the kiss, you had no choice but to moan his name at that. Damn! He chuckled “Always the same...” “You best not be complaining...” your voice was pitchy and breathless, you didn’t just want him now, you needed him. “On the contrary...” His fingers slipped into your underwear and your moan was louder now. “Mmm...” the hum was satisfied; “I thought so...” This time you almost glared at him, but it didn’t last long. I HATE you!! Why did he make you feel this good? Why did he always make you feel this good?!?

He continued to touch you exactly where you needed him to, and pleasure became elation. You were conscious of the party still; so even though it was loud in there you continued to stifle your moans. He wasn’t exactly happy about that, but you knew how to keep your mouth shut - you’d had to do it enough in similar situations - meaning no amount of grinding or growling from him was going to make you any louder. And that was a good thing; because the next thing you knew the doors swung open and light flooded your private little corridor. He dropped you instantly and pulled you around the colonnade. But the absence of his fingers made you whine louder than you’d been doing under his touch. You noticed how he still pressed his body into yours as you inched around the stone structure. A bunch of giggling, likely drunk, partygoers hanging off each other seemed to bicker with each other just outside the doors. You looked to each other with raised eyebrows as if that hadn’t ever been you once - and as the same thought crossed your mind you tried not to giggle like children yourselves, to no avail. You peered around the corner again “guess you still do need to sneak around Sheriff...” “Hush...” He nudged you gently, and pulled you back just a touch to make sure you weren’t spotted. “Leave...” He murmured it to himself, but his hot breath caressed your skin and nearly made you shiver as you watched them slowly make their way across the hall; nearly screaming with laughter as they stumbled over one another. “Leave...” his voice was a little more impatient as they once again stopped and began searching around for something. He sighed, and the pull of his body from yours made you turn to him; “Hmm?” His eyes traced your lips momentarily and the Sheriff smiled before he kissed them “I have a feeling if we continue here, we won’t remain uninterrupted for long...” You knew what that kiss meant; “Tell me what you had in mind?” He took your hand in his; “Come with me - I know just the room...”

 **

 You thought he might mean just a quiet room somewhere, as everyone was preoccupied, so many rooms would be empty for the entire night and possibly the majority of the morning too. But no. His room. that’s what he meant. And suddenly this was too personal and too intimate, and you should have been walking out of there, no alcohol in your system and no love from him. But you didn’t care. You weren’t drunk, but you were drunk on the way he made you feel. The door was barely closed, let alone locked and he was on you. Hands tangled back in your hair; he wasted no time in pushing you back towards his bed. Pulling you head back to once again expose your neck to him, his other hand left your hair to pull your dress down your arms and body. No, he really wasn’t attempting to waste time. Maybe he thought you’d change your mind. You couldn’t trust yourself, and you should have known that the second the invite came through. You should have torn it up and forgot about him, but you didn’t. You never had, you never did, you never could. So your hands found your dress too and helped him, almost impatiently, undress you. He released you for a minute, eyebrow raised; “I thought you weren’t doing this?” “OH SHUT UP!” His smirk accompanied his laugh, and he shrugged himself out of grey leather and wool – helping you with the fastenings of his black undershirt; “Why did I bother with the damn party?” “I think you were certainly thinking alcohol…”  You let him throw his shirt to the floor and attempt to pull his feet from his boots as you undid his pants; “No, no, wait – that’s not going to-” “Hush!” He nudged you back and kicked both off – but there wasn’t even enough time to stare at each other for a moment and get lot in it. No romance lost here… He grabbed you back into his arms and you both hit the bed; a passionate tangle of limbs and hot, breathless kisses. He was perfect… Every inch of him perfect. Although you couldn’t be sure at this point you were really registering him – given that you were absorbed in kisses – rather than anything else; that all seemed to be entirely subconscious… The Sheriff was flawless… the sex was flawless… His vibrant blue eyes both glittering and sinfully dark… A mixture leaving you lost for words before you’d even started…

 You couldn’t even describe how and what you felt. There was so much ‘pleasure’ that it was almost an out of body experience; you’d done this so many times and yet…this time left you wondering if this was actually happening… It was both too hot and yet cool; and completely sober you realised that you both seemed to fit together perfectly – his pale skin gliding smoothly over yours, creating fire at every point of contact. His kisses were deliciously hot, hungrier and yet still holding the gentle temperament that he always tried to keep with you…  How did he manage to keep control? You’d lose it if it wasn’t for him; but then again, you had lost it because of him…

That lustful tangle of limbs, an embrace; just a series of short kisses and even shorter breaths. His eyes were perfectly dark, passionate and they slowly became your point of focus…  You tangled your hands through his neat grey hair as he ran his lips over yours again… It was more than perfection… More than any excitement you’d ever experienced… More than bliss… There were no words anymore to describe the way this made you feel… HE made you feel…

His hand crept slowly down you left arm – although now calm… it still made your skin tingle as he whispered incoherent sentences in your ear. When his hand found yours you instinctively laced your fingers with his and kissed him again…You weren’t sure, and couldn’t be certain. Far too tired, and half way to sleep before the words passed your lips, but if you were to whisper anything to him then… Whatever you said…Not incoherently… Just purely honest… Too tired to remember and probably to care what kind of feelings were thus spilled from your lips, you just hoped that you had let him know how much he meant to you…

***

When you awoke to sunlight and his steady breathing you knew you’d made a mistake. You covered your face with your hands and let out a gentle groan. “Damn…” Staying wasn’t the problem, sleeping with him wasn’t the problem. Breaking a promise to yourself? You were just a little disappointed. You shifted your gaze to him, still sleeping but holding you strong in his arms and sighed in content; only a little… You gently brushed strands of his hair from his face and wriggled your body to nuzzle into his chest. As you might expect, the next thing you heard was the rumble of his laugh building there, and then running across your skin. His fingers danced across your shoulders as he caressed you, and you felt his lips against your forehead. “You stayed…” “You think I had a choice?” “…I would expect as such that you would leave.” “Are you kicking me out of your bed, Sheriff…?” Your enquiry was met with a huff; “No. I’m just used to your long string of babbled regret…” “Ah, well, usually I’ve been drinking and basically regret everything…” You sighed “Oh, I really did it this time.” “…How so?” He pulled slightly away from you so that he could gaze at you properly; tilting your chin so that your eyes met his “…I promised myself I wouldn’t do this.” “Oh, am I that unsatisfactory?” “NO!” You protested, disliking his slightly hurt pout, “No…” you took his hand in yours “…In myself… every time this happens we’re drinking and I…” you paused for a minute, and your face lit up in realisation; “But I DIDN’T DRINK!” “No, and how with all those people, I have no idea. I need your tolerance…!” You tilted your head with a smile; “Well, now I’m proud of myself. I did one thing right…” “Just the one?” You pushed the Sheriff’s arm at his cheeky smile “If I can keep half a promise, then that’s half a promise more than I expected…” But you’d realised something else; “…But… I always thought this happened because of the wine… Maybe that’s not…” you hesitated, biting your lip “…The issue.” “I fail to see any issue with this.” He kissed your face again, and continued to afford you butterfly kisses as you attempted to get an explanation out; “It’s unsustainable…!!” “Then stay…” His voice was soft, but that wasn’t what shocked you. “…Stay here, to be with me.” On receiving no response his eyes met yours again; “…Was that not a good suggestion?” Your eyes were wide; and for once there was something in them he didn’t recognise. He didn’t think he’d ever seen you scared before. You swallowed, blinking your fear away; “I- I can’t.” “Why?” He pulled you closer, as if you were about to scurry out of bed and leave him here alone “Well I… I don’t even really like Nottingham.” You took a deep breath and bit your lip again, this time leading into a smirk; “But---! I do think you could persuade me…” As expected, the Sheriff caught your wave length immediately, and caught your smirk with a teasing one of his own – leaving a chaste kiss on your lips before rolling you over; “...Oh, I think I know how...”

--- Thank You For Requesting!! 😘😘😘 Damn are we at 5 and 5! These have been so much fun to write!! 😊 @dennismitchell @krnncsbtch @happyskywhale #MendoTagSquad.

[itracing]

Ferrari Picks up Win at Bathurt 12 Hour Race

Ferrari wrote another page in its legendary history in GT racing, taking the Bathurst 12 Hour for the second time. This is one of the most difficult races in the world, held on the 6.2 km Mount Panorama track in New South Wales, Australia. Succeeding in the undertaking along the up and downhills of the “Blue Hell” was factory Ferrari driver, Toni Vilander, with Australian Melbourne natives Craig Lowndes and Jamie Whincup, who took turns at the wheel of the Maranello Motorsport 488 GT3.

A Close Fight

At the finish, the Ferrari was more than a lap ahead of the nearest contenders, the Competition Motorsports Porsche driven by Calvert-Jones-Long-Lieb-Campbell, but the final standings is not faithful to the real situation, which was an extremely heated battle from the first lap until 50 minutes from the end. The Ferrari of the Mark Coffey’s team, the only one on track, was involved in overtakes and counter-overtakes in a three-way battle between the Baird-Van Gisbergen-Engel Mercedes and the Porsche that later finished second. It was a close fight with the Mercedes hitting the Ferrari in the initial stages, earning a drive-through penalty.

Accident

It was Shane Van Gisbergen who made life simpler for Jamie Whincup in the final stages of the race, losing control of his Mercedes as he attempted to make up ground on the Ferrari and crashed violently just into the last hour. Whincup, in his first race aboard a Ferrari, thereby managed his lead which, with the main rivals out, was more than a lap over the Porsche. For the Australian, Vilander and the 488 GT3, this is the first win at the Bathurst 12 Hour. For Maranello Motorsport and Craig Lowndes, on the other hand, it is the second win in four years. In fact, in 2014, the first victory ever arrived in the Australian marathon with Lowndes, Mika Salo, Peter Edwards, John Bowe and the 458 Italia GT3. This year’s race was witnessed by a record crowd with over 40.000 spectators over the three days of the event.

Toni Vilander: “Being able to win such a difficult race on the first attempt makes me proud. Everything was perfect right from the start of the weekend. The race was very close but my teammates, the team and the car were simply unbeatable today. I think the 488 GT3, designed by Ferrari and developed with Michelotto, currently represents the state of the art in GT racing”.

[its-naruto-universe]

Man i just watched the boruto ending credits & i didn't even know when i started crying. Gosh the emotions the sss family brings out in me are too strong! But honestly their parts were always more emotional or had more feeling to them. What do you think??

Yes I also cried. The emotional impact ss has in me is just too strong. Also the music was nice and I loved the fact they decided to animate this as the main scene. And they actually confirmed for all those bathurt anons that the scene was a flashback

[digging-holes-in-the-river]

Ah, found what I was actually looking for. From Humanity: An Introduction to Cultural Anthropology, by James Peoples and Garrick Bailey:

Cross-Generational Marriage Among the Tiwi of Northern Australia

In most societies, people who marry are comparable in age. Often, as you may know, males are older, and sometimes significantly older. The Tiwi, who traditionally lived on the Bathurt Islands just off the coast of northern Australia, were unusual because both sexes frequently married people of markedly different ages -- in fact, spouses were usually of different generations. Ethnographer C.W.M. Hart worked among the Tiwi in the late 1920s, and Arnold Pilling worked there in the early 1950s. Jane Goodale’s later work focused on Tiwi women.

Like other aboriginal peoples of Australia, the Tiwi were exclusively hunters and gatherers. Male elders made most of the important decisions in a band, including those about foraging activities and the distribution of food. Many elderly men were polygynous -- that is, they had more than one wife. Polygynous men had access to lots of food from their wives’ gathering and fishing, and they could acquire prestige by distributing the food widely to other families. Other male elders were desired as allies, and allies could be acquired by food distribution and by another means to be discussed in a moment. But meat was valued, and as men reached their 50s and 60s they were unable to hunt effectively. To hunt meat, they needed sons, which they generally had, and sons-in-law, which they could get by marrying off their daughters.

Tiwi marriage is unusual because of two rare customs. First, when a girl was born she was almost immediately promised as a wife to some other man. This is “infant betrothal,” with the husband selected by the infant’s father. Second, there was a cultural requirement that all females be married virtually all their lives. So an infant girl was not simply “betrothed.” Tiwi seemed to have thought of her as already married. And when a woman’s husband died, she remarried almost immediately, which we may call “widow marriage.”

An astute Tiwi father did not marry his infant daughter to just anyone. He used her marriage to win friends and gain allies. The allies who were most valuable were men of about his own age, so naturally he tended to marry his daughters to these men. But the relationship created by one such marriage often was reciprocated -- if you married your daughter to a friend, you would likely receive his daughter, sooner or later. So a man might gain a wife in return for a daughter.

If a man’s wives had daughters when he was in his 40s and 50s (which was common), then he married some of them to men his own age. Not all of them, though, because a man also wanted sons-in-law to come live in his band and help supply meat. So an elder would look around for a young man in his 20s who seemed like a diligent and skillful hunter and a promising ally. He married some of his daughters to these younger men. When his daughters grew up, his sons-in-law would supply him and his household with meat.

From the perspective of a girl growing into womanhood, she would already have a husband, most likely one who was perhaps 20 or 30 years older than herself, and often even 40 or 50 years older. That is, most women were married to men one or two generations removed from themselves. Most women spent their younger years working with their co-wives gathering plants for themselves, their children, and their joint husband.

Of course, most wives outlived their husbands but did have children by them. By Tiwi custom, widows had to remarry. But to whom? Some young men in their 20s had failed to attracted the notice of the elders and therefore had no wives of their own. But they still could be friends and useful allies of the sons of these widowed women. So at the death of her husband, her sons (usually with her consent and approval) married their mother to a man 20 or 30 years her junior. That way, she would have the support of a strong hunter as she aged, and her sons would strengthen a friendship and gain an ally. (Incidentally, Tiwi wives might seem like “pawns,” but in fact they were active participants in marital machinations, as Jane Goodale documented in her book Tiwi Wives.)

Should you have visited the Tiwi during their traditional life, what would you have observed about marriage? Many elderly men had several wives, nearly all of whom were between 20 and 40 years younger than themselves. Young men had either no wife at all or one wife, and that one wife was probably at least 20 years older than her husband. So elderly men were married to women in the prime of their lives, whereas many young men in their “prime” had wives who were old enough to be their mothers. Looked at from the point of view of a typical female’s life cycle, she is first a co-wife of a much older man; then after he dies she and her male children arrange for her to marry a man who is young enough to be her son.

[baxtonme]

Bathurst Accommodation Quality and Affordable B & B Guest House New South Wales

Magnificent Bathurst Landmark: An Interesting Past and a Welcoming Future

There’s a special “something” about certain buildings, especially when just looking at them is enough to tell you that they have a story to tell. Holmhurst Guest House, a sprawling Edwardian mansion in Bathurst, New South Wales, is such a building. 

While some buildings lurk behind impenetrable fences and remain mysterious, getting a look around Holmhurst Guest House is easy. These days, it’s a popular Bed and Breakfast in Bathurst with its own website. And if pictures on a screen don’t convey enough of its ambiance for your liking, you can simply book a room and stay there for a few nights. It’s certainly a space that offers a unique experience.

Guesthouse owner and manager Robyn Hanney is the person to ask about the building’s history – and as its looks imply, it has seen over a century of life’s ups, downs, dreams, and dramas. Here’s a brief summary covering the basics of Holmhurst’s history. 

Chapter 1: The Family Residence

Back in 1904, when it was built, Holmhurst must have been everyone’s idea of a dream home. The man behind the construction was a respected banker, Mr James Holmes, and it was here that he settled with his family and lived out the rest of his days. 

Little else is known about the man himself, but it’s easy to imagine a large family, living out an elegant lifestyle behind its walls. The garden, still part of the property, must have been a wonderful place for children to play, and Mr and Mrs Homes were surely among the “Smart Set” of the town in their day. 

They would have entertained guests in the spacious rooms, and an invitation to dine with the couple would surely have been considered as an occasion to don one’s best clothes and exercise one’s best “company manners.”

Chapter 2: The Catholic Orphanage

Sadly, Mr Holmes and his family would not enjoy their beautiful home for many years. In 1915, he died, and his widow donated the property to the Catholic church. 

There are both sunny and sad sides to this, the longest chapter in the building’s history. It became St Joseph’s Orphanage, also known as St Joseph’s Girls’ Home, and it would continue to fulfill this role until its closure in 1975. Today, we can see a plaque commemorating the many girls who reached womanhood here. It touchingly refers to their tears and laughter as well as their time spent at work and at play. Though some reports say that the nuns were often strict and not always as merciful as the name of their order, The Sisters of Mercy may suggest, we can safely assume that there were nevertheless times of happiness, acts of kindness, and even love.

The building itself underwent some changes, notably, the addition of 4 extra wings, including a chapel during this part of its history. After all, it was no longer a building meant to house a single family with a handful of children. But nothing remains the same forever, and the orphanage was closed in 1975. The Catholic Church retained its ownership of the building and used the space as a seminary for ecclesiastical studies until its sale to a new owner. 

Chapter 3: Holmhurst Reborn – From Student and Motor Racing Enthusiast Accommodation to Welcoming Guest House

In 1992, “St Joseph’s” was sold to a private entrepreneur who recognised the potential of the large building as a residence for university students. It was also a convenient spot for accommodating motor-racing enthusiasts pursuing their passion at the nearby Mount Panorama racetrack. It was during this phase of its varied history that the name “Holmhurst” was restored to the stately building.

In 2018, Robyn Hanney became the new owner, and her vision was much more ambitious. Together with her partner Greg Hargans, she resolved to recapture both the ambience and the sense of elegance, converting the magnificent building into a welcoming guest house for Bathurst’s visitors.

Today, we see the high-ceilinged rooms a far cry from how they must have looked during their decades as an institution. Holmhurst is a happy home once again, and a truly beautiful one into the bargain. It’s a place fit for weddings, honeymoon memories, romantic weekends away, and family holidays with the kids all rolled into one, and it’s not just the place or its period-appropriate furnishings that makes it that way.

Both seasoned travelers, Robyn and Greg know how to make guests feel welcome. They believe in the personal touch. The welcome, the panoramic look at the surroundings from the gorgeous balcony, directions to local attractions, and sociable evenings around the fire – Robyn and Greg are the perfect hosts.

Asked about the house in its current incarnation Robyn proudly says: “There are very few buildings like this in Bathurst. It allows guests to step back in time and appreciate the architecture and style of a bygone era.” Robyn and Greg have created an experience in hospitality that makes you feel right at home from the first time you enter the doors of Holmhurst Guest House. 

To us, this may seem like a happy ending, but to Robyn and Greg, every day is another new beginning. The story of Holmhurst continues…

For more information and to book your stay at Holmhurst Guest House visit, HOLMHURST – Affordable B & B Accommodation in Bathurst or call 0434 937 306

Bathurst Accommodation Quality and Affordable B & B Guest House New South Wales was originally published on Baxton

[abbygaelcafuir]

🐷 ing out with them again, and again and again. #churchandfoodsunday #porkybebes #ternonanamankaminangkulay #blueandgrey #hindikaminagusap #tasteofmanila (at Wilson and Bathurts)

[todayworldnews2k21]

Australia wins bronze at world cross country titles in Bathurst

The Australian team of Ollie Hoare, Jessica Hull, Stewart McSweyn and Abbey Caldwell has won bronze in the mixed relay at the World Athletics Cross Country Championships in Bathurst. National 1,500 metres record holder Hull was the star performer for the home team, picking up two spots in the second two-kilometre leg to hand the baton to McSweyn in first spot. Kyumbe Munguti ran a brilliant third…

[newenglandgirl]

Watch "Downton Abbey's Robert Bathurst Seduces You With His Voice In Louise Penny's The Madness of Crowds" on YouTube

For any RB fans... I'm not a huge fan on the lady doing the interview, but I love his mumbly way of taking. He seems genuinely kind and just plain nice.

[dewhitphotography]

otto somppi & noah dobson by Katie Whitty

[moncheri893]

Lomography by @littlefetus and EMILIE❤️❤️ #scorpio #leo #friends #hipster #homosexual #gay #whitewoman #asian #bathurts #toronto (at College St And Bathurst)