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bentleydesignsoutlet · 1 year ago

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Dining Room Furniture Dining Tables & Chairs Ncf Dwelling

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beerandpresentdanger · 5 years ago

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Something in the Water

These fragments are all culled from a larger piece of work about beer, family, place and memory that is still fermenting somewhere in my head. I was inspired to finally put out a flight of snippets in response to Boak & Bailey’s #BeeryLongReads2020 challenge

* * *

Say, for what were hop-yards meant, Or why was Burton built on Trent? Oh many a peer of England brews Livelier liquor than the Muse, And malt does more than Milton can To justify God’s ways to man.

A.E. Housman, A Shropshire Lad

* * *

The first sip of a pint of ale made in Burton upon Trent can be off-putting to a newcomer. There’s something intangibly difficult about it, a shrugging note of unpleasantness that many find unsettling - a mineral toned, brackish kind of scent, that most immediately brings to mind sulphur; that distinct, diffuse, almost rotten egg character that you find in the water of towns that marketed themselves as spas, and once sold their healing properties to gullible Victorians with chronic nerve conditions.

Connoisseurs have a name for it, likening it to the fleeting sensory overload of an old-fashioned match being struck in a dark, draughty room.

They call it “The Burton Snatch”.

* * *

My father’s family have always lived in Burton and its surrounding villages, nestled among the hills and valleys between Staffordshire and Derbyshire. My great-grandfather was a farmer and a money-lender, who kept a cast iron safe in the living room with a lace doily and a bowl of fruit on top. He would open it up on Sunday evenings to take stock, counting out the large paper notes on his scrubbed wooden table while the rest of the family looked on.

My grandfather, Jimmy, was a promising football player who did a stint with Burton Albion, before going into business in the town, setting up Farrington’s Furnishers in two large units on the Horninglow Road. It was the kind of traditional, rambling shop that doesn’t exist much anymore - a haphazardly laid-out assembly of sofas, beds, dressers and wardrobes, tables, chairs, footstools and chests of drawers. At the back, there was a room full of rolls of carpet, piled high to the ceiling. My father and his brothers were playing there when the news came over the radio that JFK had been shot.

* * *

Brewing has happened in Burton for centuries, but the process really began millennia ago, when the substrata of the Trent valley settled with deep deposits of sand and gravel, a unique and serendipitous combination of minerals that built the foundations for everything that was to follow. An unusually high concentration of sulphates from the gypsum, coupled with healthy reserves of calcium and magnesium and low levels of sodium and bicarbonates, meant that when springs eventually burbled forth from the land around the river, the water had its own particular and unique character, a distinct presentation that the French might call “terroir”.

Beer-making started in earnest when an abbey named Byrtune was raised on the banks of the Trent, and the brothers did as all good monastic orders did, growing their own crops, raising their own livestock, and brewing their own beer. Over the centuries, the reputation for the region’s fine ale grew and spread, until the secret could no longer be kept.

When the canals came to Burton they made it into a city of industry and empire. Tentacle-like, capitalism stretched and unfurled its penetrating waterways across, through and over Albion’s gentle hills, bypassing the wild weirs of the Trent’s natural descent, domesticating the landscape and bringing uniformity, neatness, and standardisation to what was a tangle of disparate places and processes. By the middle of the 18th century, the Trent Navigation had been connected to the Humber, to the mighty Mersey, and down through Birmingham to the Grand Union, and suddenly, Burton was now a central hub functioning as part of a single network that ran throughout the country and onward, through its bustling ports, to Europe, Russia, and all points beyond.

* * *

Once their children grew up, my grandparents also left for the continent. Nearly every summer holiday of my childhood was spent visiting them in Portugal. Their home, known only as “The Villa”, was an idyllic place, where my brothers and I learnt to swim, where the smell of barbecue smoke lingered over every evening, where the coarse Mediterranean grass hurt our feet when we tried to play football on it. When I was young, I only really knew my grandparents in this sunlit, bright blue light - tanned, shortsleeved, wearing hats. Their accents may have been rounded and roughened in the heart of England, but their very essence to me was more exotic, more glamorous, more European.

Some of my first memories of drinking come from those summer holidays. Sips of pungent sea-dark wine, acidic and overwhelming; a sample of gin and tonic, bitter and medicinal with a gasping clarity; and of course, beer - not ale, nothing my grandfather would touch - but lager, cold and crisp and gassy, a fleeting glimpse of adulthood.

* * *

Beer, like everything else in a free market of money and ideas, has been subject to fashion and changing tastes, and it was a fashion for pale ales that truly put Burton on the map. With the proliferation of the waterways, hops from Kent and barley from East Anglia could make their way to Burton where, combined with the local water, they were turned into a revelatory, and wildly popular beverage.

Breweries proliferated throughout the town. At its peak, more than 30 rival businesses competed for space, ingredients, and workers to keep the kettles boiling and grain mashing. Burton became the brewing capital of the world, home to emblematic firms like Bass, which by 1877 was the world’s largest brewery. Its famed pale ale was so acclaimed and copied that the distinctive red triangle that adorned its labels became the UK’s first registered trademark, a mark of its singular quality.

* * *

Even when my grandparents lived abroad, Burton still pulled my family to it. Christmas called us back year after year, or Boxing Day at least, catching up with uncles and aunts and first and second cousins, some removed, to sit in sitting rooms in front of three-bar fires, eating ham cobs, drinking flat Schweppes lemonade, watching World’s Strongest Man on the television. The arresting vision of a large man pulling a tractor down a runway or throwing a washing machine over a wall would be accompanied by the sound of adult chatter, long-delayed catch-ups on weddings, births, and especially deaths - distant relatives and long-lost school mates, old girlfriends with cancer scares, run-ins with the police.

One uncle, who worked in a brewery like a true Burtonian, kept terrapins. I would gingerly feed them sunflower seeds, holding my hand above the dark waterline of the cramped tank, waiting for the vicious snap to emerge from the depths. “Pedigree doesn’t travel well,” he once told me, referring to a renowned local bitter. Some things cannot leave Burton behind.

* * *

Burton’s skyline doesn’t have church towers, it has fermentation vessels. Over the decades, as companies have merged, collapsed, consolidated or been taken over with some hostility, the name on the side of the largest set has changed, so that what drivers on the bypass see reflects whatever corporate overlord assumes feudal control in that particular age.

In the middle years of the twentieth century, brewing, like many industries, saw the white hot intensity of competition eliminate all but the largest of breweries. Experts will tell you that the beer suffered along with it, accompanied by punitive taxation from the government and a nannying attitude to pubs and drinking, the hangover of Victorian prudishness being enacted by the grandchildren of those who first envisaged it. Tastes changed under the weight of global pressures, and ultimately, Burton lurched along with them, becoming, through a complex web of corporate exchanges, the brewing site of Canadian brand Carling Black Label.

In the ensuing decades, Carling would become the UK’s best-selling beer, a “domestic” rival to the traditional European lager brands that dominated in Germany, France and Denmark. The attritional battles left their marks on Burton though, as closures and collisions shuttered various facilities and churned through generations of workers, leaving tracts of vacant space even in the centre of town. Coming off the train now, you overlook the whole of Burton, and get the sensation of standing in the middle of a vast and scattered industrial facility, where smokestacks and grain towers overpeer gritted-teeth terraced houses, pockmarked shopping streets and vacant lots.

The make-up of the town shifted too. In the middle of the Midlands (Burton is linguistically and administratively part of the East Midlands, but geographically in the West Midlands) the town received its fair share of immigration. A town my grandparents knew as almost entirely white and Christian is now almost 10% Pakistani Muslim - a thriving community of teetotallers, in a town famous for its beer.

* * *

My grandparents celebrated their diamond wedding anniversary in 2014, flying back from Portugal to hold a party at the National Brewery Centre in the middle of Burton. It was a lovely evening, with a large cake and lots of happy stories, relatives and friends I’d never seen before and would never see again. After an early finish, my cousins and I went to a pub, drinking pints of milk-smooth ale, before ending up in a small, loud, nightclub playing cheesy pop hits. The next morning, hungover, I walked with my parents to Stapenhill Cemetery to stare at the headstones of ancestors I had never met.

* * *

There is a popular documentary series on the BBC which sees celebrity costermonger Gregg Wallace visit various sterile facilities around the UK to witness firsthand how automation and mechanisation has changed food production. Each episode has him walking through eerily empty factories, vast and cavernous spaces where robotic production lines operate 24 hours a day, speaking to the remaining human operators who exist now as mere caretakers, there to tend and nurse the machines like temple virgins, dressed in hairnets instead of togas. It is an uncanny sight. Every installment inevitably begins with drone shots, hovering silently above the landscape, showing the immense scale of these conurbations, raised in places where land is invariably cheap and generations of people have been bred into cycles of tireless shift work. But the workers are not needed any more. Efficiency has eradicated the need for fleshy points of failure.

Now, Gregg can skip through the barren hallways, silent save for the harmonic hum of perpetual machinery, flashing his blinding white overalls and quoting mind-boggling statistics about the weight of crisps the average British child eats in a year. Various natural products are ushered in off the backs of lorries and railway carriages, fed along whirring conveyor belts and pumped through pneumatic tubes, before being baked, frozen, cut, dried, soaked, dessicated, rehydrated and reformulated into whatever bland final product can now be ejected out into the world, via shipping containers and along motorways, all to sit on a supermarket shelf before making an appearance in your cupboard, a moment on your table, and a lifetime rotting away in some far-off landfill.

It was inevitable that Burton’s MolsonCoors brewery, the home of Carling, would get its chance in the spotlight. The programme highlighted the noble history of brewing, from its pre-modern farmhouse days, when fermentation was practically a shamanic ritual, to its domestication and commodification, where each step in the process was refined and perfected, to where we are now, when every aspect has been exactingly costed and painstakingly budgeted to ensure maximum productivity, and maximum profit, with minimal ingredients, energy, or intervention. There has been a backlash to this macro-attitude, of course - “craft beer”, an ill-defined, equally co-optable movement that alludes to provenance, quality, care, and a confused sense of heritage, has become a big business in its own right, backed by venture capital and crowdfunding campaigns - but industrial brewing is still the fixture in the firmament, the thing that keeps the lights on.

When one of the few remaining humans showed Gregg the tiny, almost homeopathic quantity of hops that would add a semblance of bitterness and aromatic flavour to a lake-sized vat of Carling, it felt almost like a knowing wink - look at what we can get away with - one made safe in the knowledge that their beer will still pour in nearly every pub and take up the most shelf space in corner shops and petrol stations across the country. Of course they’ll get away with it. They’ve always got away with it. They will sell us beer with barely a sense memory of taste in it, and we will literally lap it up.

* * *

My grandfather died in hospital, in Portugal, after an indeterminate period of undramatic but gradually worsening health. His four children took turns flying out to spend time with him and their mother in the hospital, sitting by his bed, holding his hand, finishing the crosswords he was no longer able to complete.

He was cremated there, but a memorial service to remember his life was held in Burton on a crisp, February day a few weeks later. Alighting at the railway station, I watched steam from the breweries crowd the startlingly cold air, while waiting for my parents to arrive and drive us the ten minutes to Rolleston Cricket Club where the small gathering would take place. On the way, we drove up Horninglow Road, past what was once Farrington’s Furnishers, now Zielona Żabkal, a Polish supermarket. We got there early and spent some time setting up, arranging the folding tables and stackable chairs, hanging up photos, and laying out some mementos of my grandfather’s happy life - a table tennis bat, some puzzle books, a golf club, his familiar white hat.

I was tasked with approving the beer for the day. There were two casks of Bass on the bar - one which had been there a few days, the other tapped that morning. “I’m a lager man,” the bartender told me, so I tried both to see which was in form. The first had the faintest tang of vinegar that suggested oxidation, a beer that was at the end of its life, drowning in the air around it. The second was lively, enthusiastic, a little overly keen and overripe, but would settle down through the afternoon as the long goose-necked pump poured pint after pint for the guests who shuffled in, in suits and raincoats, shiny shoes and walking sticks, to pay their respects. Everyone told stories. I read a letter on behalf of my cousin, working on the other side of the world. We drank many, many pints of Bass in good nick, then when we were finished, we went to a pub, and drank many more.

When I had to catch my train back to London, I staggered back through the freezing night, to find that the town was mashing in - somewhere in the vast floodlit breweries, a switch had been thrown and malted barley was being soaked in that famous hot water, and the streets were being filled with the scent of porridge and healthy, earthy grains; a warming, nostalgic tide that overflowed down the road and spilled through the centuries; riding, falling, on the biting cold air.

#beer #writing #beer writing #food writing #ale #hops #barley #burton on trent #burton #family #memoir #beerylongreads2020 #craft beer #bass #cask ale #real ale

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anthonycalascione · 4 years ago

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Petersen reopens with four new exhibits

The Petersen Automotive Museum in Los Angeles has reopened on a Wednesday through Sunday basis and offers free admission to healthcare workers, first responders and their guests throughout 2021.

The reopening showcases in-person viewing of three exhibits that opened in 2020 online: “Supercars: A century of Spectacle and Speed,” which showcases the evolution of the supercar; “Extreme Conditions,” which highlights 11 custom competition, recreational, and utilitarian off-roading vehicles; and “Redefining Performance” which features Porsche’s most innovative road and race vehicles.

Supercars

Porsches

Going to extremes

Also featured is “The Aesthetic of Motoring: 90 Years of Pininfarina,” an exhibition of four milestone examples of the evolution of the Italian design company’s styling. The cars are a 1931 Cadillac Model 452A boattail roadster, a 1947 Cisitalia 202 coupe, a 1966 Ferrari Dino Berlinetta 206 GT prototype and a 2019 Automobili Pininfarina Battista. The Dino will be part of the display only briefly and will be replaced by a 1967 Ferari 365P Berlinetta Speciale “Tre Posti.”

“With its commitment to elegant, aerodynamic design and small-scale production, Pininfarina has created some of the most innovative and revered car designs in the history of the automobile,” Petersen executive director Terry Karges is quoted in the museum’s announcement. “The new exhibit will provide visitors with a behind-the-scenes look at the company’s design history while paying homage to its innovation through these four rarely-seen vehicles.”

Paolo Pininfarina, Pininfarina Group chairman, added, “The models on display perfectly represent our identity, which today is the same as in the 1930s: the centrality of design, an aesthetic sense capable of creating timeless beauty, the obsession with quality, the force of a tradition that combines industry, technology and stylistic research.”

Tickets must be purchased in advance through the museum website. Face masks will be required of all visitors and the museum will employ social distancing guidelines.

Greenwood Corvette at Hall of Fame

Joining the vehicles on display at the Motorsports Hall of Fame of America museum in Daytona Beach, Florida, is the “Spirit of Le Mans” Chevrolet Corvette raced by John Greenwood, who put the car on the IMSA-class pole and posted the fastest straightaway speed at the French race in 1976.

“Few cars say American motorsports louder and prouder than a big-block, ‘Stars and Stripes’ John Greenwood Corvette,” said museum president George Levy.

“Detroit brothers John and Burt Greenwood stunned the racing world with a succession of rapid Corvettes,” the museum noted in its news release. “In them, John won the 1970 and ’71 SCCA A Production national titles and took a class win with television star Dick Smothersat the 1972 12 Hours of Sebring. John also stood on the top step at the 1974 IMSA Championship Finals at Daytona International Speedway… and captured the 1975 SCCA Trans-Am title among a bevy of other wins, poles and fastest laps.”

The “Stars and Stripes” Corvette, wearing race number 76 during the American bicentennial year, has a unique wide-body fabrication, generated more than 1,000 pounds of downforce and had a 467cid all-aluminum V8 rated at up to 725 horsepower.

New British car museum

After being delayed in 2020 because of the coronavirus pandemic, the Great British Car Journey museum plans to open in late May in the former Wire Works site in Ambergate, Derbyshire, UK. A 150-car collection is being set up as an interactive, table-led trip through the story of the British auto industry and its role in the global transportation revolution.

“The enforced break, through both ill health and the pandemic, means Great British Car Journey is coming back stronger having given us the opportunity to acquire even more fantastic British made and designed classic cars,” according to co-founder Richard Usher, former owner of Auto Windscreens and of the Blyton Park racing circuit.

In addition to the cars, the museum will offer a “Drive Dad’s Car” experience featuring more than 30 British vehicles, from an Austin Seven to a Rolls-Royce Silver Spirit, that can be driven with an instructor on an on-site driving route.

For more information, visit the museum’s website.

AACA Museum pioneer passes

The AACA Museum in Hershey, Pennsylvania, has announced the death of Richard Taylor, one of the museum’s “founding fathers,” after a lengthy illness.

Taylor, of Mansfield, Ohio, not only was among those pushing for the establishment of the Antique Automobile Club of America’s museum, he was its first president and used his expertise from Taylor Brothers Construction to make the best use of its resources. The museum also was one of the first museums in the US to employ geothermal climate control.

Special events this weekend

The “Driven to Win” exhibition opens March 26 at the Henry Ford Museum of American Innovation in Dearborn, Michigan.

Author and Barn Find series host Tom Cotter shares the story of his Cunningham, one of only four C3 models produced with a manual transmission, in an AACA Museum Live presentation via a Zoom webcast at 10 a.m. on March 27.

The National Packard Museum in Warren, Ohio, holds its first in-person educational programming in many months on March 27 when Charles Ohlin, director of educational services, presents “Lighting the Way: Packard Incandescent Lamp History” beginning at noon. Pre-registration is required.

The American Muscle Car Museum in Melbourne, Florida, expects more than 300 vehicles at its “Celebration of Cars” festival scheduled from 10 a.m. until 3 p.m. on March 27. Featured will be “Ragtops and Roadsters.”

The Blackhawk Museum in Danville, California, reopens on weekends starting March 27, though for the time being, tickets must be reserved in advance through the museum’s website.

Autobooks-Aerobooks in Burbank, California, features Dave Wolin and his IMSA RS and Showroom Stock racing books from 10 a.m. until 2 p.m. on March 27.

The Mustang Owner’s Museum in Concord, North Carolina, hosts a Fords on Sunday car show on March 28. Among featured vehicles will be a Mustang II drag car.

The cars may have gone to auction but Muscle Car City in Punta Gorda, Florida, still has an open gift shop and StingRays restaurant and on March 28 from 7 a.m. until 1 p.m. stages its monthly flea market.

Mark your calendar

The Kansas City Automotive Museum in Olathe, Kansas, resumes its cars and coffee events on the first and third Saturdays of the month starting April 3 at 8 a.m.

Autobooks-Aerobooks in Burbank, California, features Denny Miller and his book, Indianapolis Motor Speedway: The Eddie Rickenbacker Era, from 10 a.m. until 2 p.m. on April 3.

The Mullin Automotive Museum in Oxnard, California, reopens April 9 on a Friday through Sunday basis.

“The GM Oshawa Strike of 1937” is the subject of the Third Thursday Zoomcast presentation April 15 at 7 p.m. at the Canadian Automotive Museum.

The AACA Museum in Hershey, Pennsylvania, will offer free admission to everyone who arrives at the facility in a Ford Mustang on National Mustang Day, April 17, and with a bonus perk for the first 100 Mustangs to arrive.

DeLoreans from the Northern California DeLorean Motor Club will be featured April 17 from 10 a.m. until noon outside the Blackhawk Museum in Danville, California.

The Mustang Owner’s Museum has moved its Spring Carolina Cruise to April 24 and its California Special Mustang Day to May 1.

Beginning in May and running into September, the LeMay Family Collection in Tacoma, Washington, hosts a second Thursday “Cars and Comedy” evening starting at 6 p.m. The museum says to bring a picnic and enjoy an evening featuring local comedians.

Michael Schumacher and Paul Page will be inducted into the Indianapolis Motor Speedway Hall of Fame on May 27.

The AACA Museum in Hershey, Pennsylvania, will host a “Sizzlin’ Summer Cruise In” from 8 a.m. until 2 p.m. on June 19.

There is more than cars to see in Beaulieu, England, home to the National Motor Museum. From June 19 to August 30, the Beaulieu Palace House will showcase more than 250 sculptures in its gardens and inside the Montagu family home.

The Blackhawk Museum in Danville, California, hosts a Father’s Day car show on June 20.

Does your local car museum have special events or exhibitions planned? Let us know. Email [email protected].

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mayramoss-blog1 · 6 years ago

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Two Manchester United youngsters go on trial

Manchester United defender Tyrell Warren has joined Bolton Wanderers on trial.

The 20-year-old has been training with the Championship for the last few days as they consider signing him when his contract expires at the end of the season.

Warren has made an impact at youth level with United with his defensive versatility proving to be a key asset in his encouraging development.

The Manchester-born defender has played eight times for United in the Premier League 2 this season but has seen playing time dwindle since progressing up the youth levels.

Jose Mourinho named Warren as a young player with a bright future at United during his first season in charge of the club, however the youngster is yet to have made a senior appearance at the club.

It was another tough afternoon for the speedy defender on Monday afternoon as he represented Bolton during their 2-0 defeat against Leeds U23s.

Goals from Jordan Stevens and Robbie Gotts secured the victory at Elland Road in a result which has left Bolton fifth in the Professional Development League North table.

A number of first-teamers took part in the match, but it remains to be seen if Warren will be offered a deal by the Lancashire club following his on-going trial.

Warren is not the only youngster to head out on trial with a Championship side, with fellow Reserve player DJ Buffonge at Derby. The 20-year-old was named on the bench for the Rams' Under-23’ Premier League Cup match against Aston Villa last week.

He came on for Darren Wassall's side after an hour, replacing Cameron Cresswell, and helped Derby secure a 2-1 win, which clinched qualification to the knockout stage of the competition, reports Derbyshire Live.

Source link

https://www.manutdnews.online/two-manchester-united-youngsters-go-on-trial/

#manchester #trial #united #youngsters #mainposts

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leagueofladieswi-blog · 7 years ago

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Derbyshire Wildlife Trust - 22/11/17 MMM

34 members

4 visitors

President Sarah opens the meeting by welcoming the members and Julia from the Derbyshire Wildlife Trust. Our next meeting is the Christmas party and will be taking place at The Commercial. After The George repeatedly letting us down and other suitable venues costing too much money, the committee have struggled to find an appropriate, accessible venue to hold our meetings. The Commercial seemed the best of a bad bunch, but the accessibility is an issue. Any suggestions would be greatly appreciated, as the committee are stuck for ideas after exhausting all other options.

Hopefully all can attend our Glitz and Glam Christmas party - an event Vice President Julie spoke to the members about as we would like to spend £200 on making this the glitziest and most glamorous event of the WI calendar.

Derbyshire Wildlife Trust’s Julia came to speak to us about the work they do to protect the county’s wildlife - “working to protect all wildlife and habitats in Derbyshire”

The Trust has 44 members of staff, over 500 volunteers, and 14,000 members dedicated to protecting nature. There are lots of nature reserves around Derbyshire where people work hard to protect the beauty of the county. Julia spoke about the hundreds of flowers, animals, plants that we aren’t aware of but need to be protected and that’s what being a member contributes towards.

So, ladies, look after wildlife, build bat boxes, and buy bee friendly plants.

Also, the ever wonderful woolly women sold crotchet bees to raise money for the Trust - save the bees, save the world

The raffle winner was Sharon Salmon

Here is a long list of events coming up. If I’m doubt, ask Julie, she’ll probably know

Events -

23/11/17 - Choir Practice - The Oakwood - 7pm (every Thursday)

26/11/17 - Charlesworth Christmas Markets @ Charlesworth Village Club - Choir performing at 2pm and 3pm

28/11/17 - Christmas floristry - wreath and table decoration - Commercial Inn @ 7:30pm (check with Sarah)

5/12/17 - Christmas floristry - garland - Commercial Inn @ 7:30pm (check with Sarah)

13/12/17 - Book Club - Pico Lounge - 7:30pm

13/12/17 - Art Club - Wetherspoons - 7:30pm

15/12/17 - Supper Club - Venue TBC (check Facebook page)

20/12/17 - Glitz & Glam Christmas party - Commercial Inn @ 7:30pm

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ralphmorgan-blog1 · 7 years ago

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10 Wedding Pics Of Prosecco Vans That Will Give You FOMO If You Don’t Have One

Just when you thought everything had been conveniently invented, you couldn't be more wrong. The Prosecco van is literally everything wine lovers could ask for to make their wedding extra bubbly and chic. Say goodbye to your amusement for food trucks and book a Prosecco van for your special day.

There's something beautiful about getting your sparkling wine out of an adorable van. Also, it beats getting stuck at the bar for who knows how long at a wedding, right? Park the Prosecco van outdoors and enjoy your winewhile getting some fresh air. If you aren't already convinced you need to jump on the Prosecco bandwagon, a few pics of these vans all dolled up and in action may change your mind.

1. Don'tMiss Out On The Cuteness Overload

Summer Market this weekend @THEhaddonhall @vpdd lots of goodies to buy and a Prosecco van, what's not to love @_proseccoOclock #Derbyshire http://pic.twitter.com/JarudGHiIX

Janice Dyson (@JaniceMDyson) July 8, 2017

Add some flowery flair to one of these babies, and you're even sold. This bar on wheels stands out and can be an unforgettable item for your special day. Not to mention, it's super Instagram-worthy.

2. Is It Too Late To Ask For One For Christmas?

Our little and large #proseccovan have been all over the country this weekend. #nonstop #prosecco #barhire #piaggioape #campervan #vwcamper http://pic.twitter.com/MgIEcbAoD2

Prosecco Van Hire (@proseccovanhire) June 19, 2017

You don't even have to be a wine lover to appreciate the innovation this van boasts. And if you're a passionate wine enthusiast, you're thanking the sip gods for this creation. Several cheers are in order.

3. It'sThe Ultimate Prop For Wedding Pics

The beautiful bride and groom enjoying the prosecco bar at their wedding on Saturday! #weddinghour #proseccobar http://pic.twitter.com/Qz0q5IXUYC

The Vino Van (@TheVinoVan1) July 26, 2017

Neither the bride or groom will be mad at this van for third wheeling their special day. It's the perfect addition to a time to celebrate. Also, could you ask for a better prop for photos?

4. Seriously, This Wine Comes With A Chic Set Of Wheels

brides: #Brides This Prosecco Van Is the Cutest Way to Serve Bubbly On Your Wedding Day https://t.co/3OgKGtIOywhttp://pic.twitter.com/VEjKL3PKQD

#Bridal Worldwide (@BridalWorldwide) July 25, 2017

The van won't necessarily be moving, but we'd be crazy not to try and wrap our heads around the idea that it does. It's almost as epic as when you discovered the beauty of the ice cream truck. Now #adulting has its own variation.

5. The Decor Options Are Endless

Today's fabulous #hitchedSupplieroftheDay is @lovelybubblyco, a Prosecco van you can have at your wedding! https://t.co/SWy0RzK3A0http://pic.twitter.com/Q9K1oAyZAs

hitched.co.uk (@hitchedcouk) July 22, 2017

Maybe everyone will sip the same way, but that doesn't mean your color scheme has to be the same as the last person's. As simple as this wine innovation may seem, you can get creative with how you decide to decorate it. Nothing can take away from this van'sawesomeness.

6. Even The Pup Approves Of The Epic-ness

Everyone looks good with our Little Italian Prosecco Van' even the dog! Live music, great food vans & fizz on tap til 8pm @archwallgarden http://pic.twitter.com/ehm2UjEqOj

Poco Prosecco (@PocoProsecco) June 24, 2017

You know what they say;If your dog doesn't approve of something, chances are, it's evil and you need to stay far away. Now, notice the extremely welcoming pup in this shot? The defense rests.

7. Some Things Really Are Prettier In Pink

Friday. Half term. Prosecco. Bring it on.#prosecco#savewaterdrinkprosecco#pinkvans#proseccovan#mamapreneurr https://t.co/thL39Urhkthttp://pic.twitter.com/iqbWMdyx7g

Aly Hodge (@BugBirdBee) May 26, 2017

Regardless of what color it comes in, you'd be wrong to miss out on a Prosecco van. Forget about it matching the table napkins. Does it pair well with those wine enthusiast taste buds of yours? Then you're good.

8.LetThe Good Times, Literally, Roll

I just love this cute little prosecco van, do you do home delivery?! @fizz.76 https://t.co/EfpKROY9Swhttp://pic.twitter.com/qSmILKsdfg

Something Blue (@SomethingBlueEM) May 26, 2017

Again, the only things that should be moving are your feet toward the direction of this boozy brilliance. It's on . The van has no other choice but to roll you into some good times.

9. Why Wasn't This Invented Sooner?

The Prosecco Van #marketing#apecar#italianstyle#wine#vinohttp://pic.twitter.com/gvkAnuuodn

Paolo Stecca (@Winedetector) May 29, 2017

Yes, our prayers have been answered. But no matter how overly content we are with this creation, the impatient person in us all is asking why it took so long. Great things come to those who wait, I guess.

10. By Now, You're Exhausted From Swooning

Planning a party for summer? Why not use our camper van mobile bar or our Prosecco van to add some real sparkle to your event. #mobilebarhttp://pic.twitter.com/mH03vDuZyX

Fancy Flutes Events (@FancyFlutes) May 31, 2017

So you came, you saw, and now it's time to conquer. Whether you're a guest, or actually planning a wedding, it's time to reserve your date with this beauty. Hurry, because everyone else's thoughts are in the same place.

Sometimes,people refrain from jumping on the bandwagon. No one mentioned there would be wine on this wagon, though. So, hop, skip, jump, or whatever you need to do to experience one of these Prosecco vans.

More From this publisher : HERE

=> *********************************************** Source Here: 10 Wedding Pics Of Prosecco Vans That Will Give You FOMO If You Don’t Have One ************************************ =>

10 Wedding Pics Of Prosecco Vans That Will Give You FOMO If You Don’t Have One was originally posted by A 18 MOA Top News from around

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mysteryshelf · 8 years ago

Text

BLOG TOUR - Secrets of Death

Secrets of Death

by Stephen Booth

on Tour April 3 – 30, 2017

DISCLAIMER: This content has been provided to THE PULP AND MYSTERY SHELF by Partners in Crime Virtual Book Tours. No compensation was received. This information required by the Federal Trade Commission.

Synopsis:

Residents of the Peak District are used to tourists descending on its soaring hills and brooding valleys. However, this summer brings a different kind of visitor to the idyllic landscape, leaving behind bodies and secrets.

A series of suicides throughout the Peaks throws Detective Inspector Ben Cooper and his team in Derbyshire’s E Division into a race against time to find a connection to these seemingly random acts — with no way of predicting where the next body will turn up. Meanwhile, in Nottingham Detective Sergeant Diane Fry finds a key witness has vanished…

But what are the mysterious Secrets of Death?

And is there one victim whose fate wasn’t suicide at all?

Book Details:

Genre: Thriller, Fiction Published by: Witness Impulse Publication Date: April 4th 2017 Number of Pages: 384 ISBN: 0062690353 (ISBN13: 9780062690357) Series: Cooper & Fry #16 (Each is a Stand Alone Novel) Purchase Links: Amazon 🔗 | Barnes & Noble 🔗 | Goodreads 🔗

Read an excerpt:

And this is the first secret of death. There’s always a right time and place to die.

It was important to remember. So important that Roger Farrell was repeating it to himself over and over in his head by the time he drew into the car park. When he pulled up and switched off the engine, he found he was moving his lips to the words and even saying it out loud – though only someone in the car with him would have heard it.

And he was alone, of course. Just him, and the package on the back seat.

There’s always a right time and place to die.

As instructed, Farrell had come properly equipped. He’d practised at home to make sure he got everything just right. It was vital to do this thing precisely. A mistake meant disaster. So getting it wrong was inconceivable. Who knew what would come afterwards? It didn’t bear thinking about. Last night, he’d experienced a horrible dream, a nightmare about weeds growing from his own body. He’d been pulling clumps of ragwort and thistles out of his chest, ripping roots from his crumbling skin as if he’d turned to earth in the night. He could still feel the tendrils scraping against his ribs as they dragged through his flesh.

He knew what it meant. He was already in the ground. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Wasn’t that what they said at your graveside as they shovelled soil on to your coffin? The dream meant his body was recycling back into the earth. In his soul, he’d already died.

Farrell looked around the car park. There were plenty of vehicles here. Although it was the middle of the week, a burst of sunny weather had brought people out into the Peak District in their droves. They’d come to enjoy the special peace and beauty of Heeley Bank, just as he had.

Of course, in many other ways, they weren’t like him at all.

He let out a sigh of contentment. That was the feeling this scenery gave him. The green of the foliage down by the river was startling in its brightness. The farmland he could see stretching up the sides of the hills was a glowing patchwork between a tracery of dry-stone walls. Cattle munched on the new grass in the fields. Further up, a scattering of white blobs covered the rougher grazing where the moors began.

The sight of those sheep made Farrell smile. He’d always associated them with the Peaks. This landscape wouldn’t be the same without sheep. They’d been here for centuries, helping to shape the countryside. And they’d still be here long after he’d gone.

It really was so green out there. So very green.

But there’s always a right time and place.

A silver SUV had pulled into a parking space nearby. Farrell watched a young couple get out and unload two bikes from a rack attached to their vehicle. One of the bikes had a carrier on the back for the small girl sitting in a child seat in the car. She was pre-school, about two years old, wearing a bright yellow dress and an orange sun hat. Her father lifted her out, her toes wiggling with pleasure as she felt the warm air on her skin. The family all laughed together, for no apparent reason.

Farrell had observed people doing that before, laughing at nothing in particular. He’d never understood it. He often didn’t get jokes that others found hilarious. And laughing when there wasn’t even a joke, when no one had actually said anything? That seemed very strange. It was as if they were laughing simply because they were, well . . . happy.

For Roger Farrell, happy was just a word, the appearance of happiness an illusion. He was convinced people put on a façade and acted that way because it was expected of them. It was all just an artificial front. Deep down, no one could be happy in this world. It just wasn’t possible. Happiness was a sham – and a cruel one at that, since no one could attain it. All these people would realise it in the end.

With a surge of pity, Farrell looked away. He’d watched the family too long. Across the car park, an elderly man hobbled on two sticks, accompanied by a woman with a small pug dog on a lead. She had to walk deliberately slowly, so that she didn’t leave the man behind. The pug tugged half-heartedly at its lead, but the woman yanked it back.

These two had probably been married for years and were no doubt suffering from various illnesses that came with age. Did they look happy? Farrell looked more closely at their faces. Definitely not. Not even the dog.

He nodded to himself and closed his eyes as he leaned back in his seat. His breathing settled down to a steady rhythm as he listened to the birds singing in the woods, the tinkle of a stream nearby, the quiet whispering of a gentle breeze through the trees.

As the afternoon drew to a close, he watched the vehicles leave one by one. People were taking off their boots, climbing into cars and heading for home. All of them were complete strangers, absorbed in their own lives. They could see him, of course. An overweight middle-aged man with a receding hairline and a distant stare. But they would never remember him.

A few minutes later, a young man jogged past on to the woodland path, checking his watch as he ran, as if he knew the time was approaching. A black Land Rover eased into a spot opposite Farrell’s BMW, but no one emerged.

And finally, the lights went off in the information centre. A woman came out and locked the front doors. She took a glance round the car park, seemed to see nothing of any interest to her, and climbed into a Ford Focus parked in a bay reserved for staff. Farrell watched as she drove away.

When it was quiet and there were only a few cars left, he leaned over into the back seat and unzipped the holdall. Carefully, Farrell lifted out the gas canisters, uncoiling the plastic tubing as it writhed on to the seat. He placed the canisters in the footwell. They looked incongruous sitting there, painted in fluorescent orange with their pictures of party balloons on the side.

It had taken him a while to find the right brand of gas. Some manufacturers had started putting a percentage of air into the canisters, which made them quite useless for his purpose. That was when things went wrong, if you didn’t check and double-check, and make sure you got exactly the right equipment.

Still, you could find anything on the internet, as he well knew. Information, advice, someone to talk to who actually understood how you were feeling. And the inspiration. He would be nothing without that. He wouldn’t be here at Heeley Bank right now.

And this is the first secret of death. There’s always a right time and place to die.

Farrell said it again. You could never say it too often. It was so important. The most important thing in the world. Or in his world, at least.

He reached back into the holdall and lifted out the bag itself. He held it almost reverently, like a delicate surgical instrument. And it was, in a way. It could achieve every bit as much as any complicated heart operation or brain surgery. It could change someone’s life for the better. And instead of hours and hours of complicated medical procedures on the operating table, it took just a few minutes. It was so simple.

With black tape from a roll, he attached the tubing to the place he’d marked on the edge of the bag, tugging at it to make sure it was perfectly secure. Everything fine so far.

Farrell had spent days choosing a piece of music to play. The CD was waiting now in its case and he slid it out, catching a glimpse of his own reflection in the gleaming surface. He wondered what expression would be in his eyes in the last seconds.

Despite his reluctance to see himself now, he couldn’t resist a glance in his rearview mirror. Only his eyes were visible, pale grey irises and a spider’s web of red lines. His pupils appeared tiny, as if he were on drugs or staring into a bright light. And maybe he was looking at the light. Perhaps it had already started.

The CD player whirred quietly and the music began to play. He’d selected a piece of Bach. It wasn’t his normal choice of music, but nothing was normal now. It hadn’t been for quite a while. The sounds of the Bach just seemed to suit the mood he was trying to achieve. Peace, certainly. And a sort of quiet, steady progression towards the inevitable conclusion.

As the sun set in the west over Bradwell Moor, a shaft of orange light burst over the landscape, transforming the colours into a kaleidoscope of unfamiliar shades, as if the Peak District had just become a tropical island.

Farrell held his breath, awed by the magic of the light. It was one of the amazing things he loved about this area, the way it changed from one minute to the next, from one month to another. Those hillsides he was looking at now would be ablaze with purple heather later in the summer. It was always a glorious sight.

For a moment, Farrell hesitated, wondering whether he should have left it until August or the beginning of September.

And then it hit him. That momentary twinge of doubt exploded inside him, filling his lungs and stopping the breath in his throat until he gathered all his strength to battle against it. His hands trembled with the effort as he forced the doubt back down into the darkness. As the tension collapsed, his shoulders sagged and his forehead prickled with a sheen of sweat.

Farrell felt as though he’d just experienced the pain and shock of a heart attack without the fatal consequences. His lips twitched in an ironic smile. That meant he was still in control. He remained capable of making his own mind up, deciding where and when to end his life. He was able to choose his own moment, his own perfect location.

There’s always a right time and place to die.

Roger Farrell took one last glance out of the window as the light began to fade over the Peak District hills.

The place was here.

And the time was now.

***

Author Bio:

A newspaper and magazine journalist for over 25 years, Stephen Booth was born in the English Pennine mill town of Burnley. He was brought up on the Lancashire coast at Blackpool, where he attended Arnold School. He began his career in journalism by editing his school magazine, and wrote his first novel at the age of 12. The Cooper & Fry series is now published by Little, Brown in the UK and by the Witness Impulse imprint of HarperCollins in the USA. In addition to publication in the US, Canada, Australia and New Zealand, translation rights in the series have so far been sold in sixteen languages – French, German, Dutch, Italian, Swedish, Danish, Finnish, Norwegian, Spanish, Portuguese, Russian, Czech, Romanian, Bulgarian, Japanese and Hebrew.Stephen left journalism in 2001 to write novels full time. He and his wife Lesley live in a village in rural Nottinghamshire, England (home of Robin Hood and the Pilgrim Fathers). They have three cats.

In recent years, Stephen Booth has become a Library Champion in support of the UK’s ‘Love Libraries’ campaign, and a Reading Champion to support the National Year of Reading. He has also represented British literature at the Helsinki Book Fair in Finland, filmed a documentary for 20th Century Fox on the French detective Vidocq, taken part in online chats for World Book Day, and given talks at many conferences, conventions, libraries, bookshops and festivals around the world.

Catch Up With Stephen Booth On: Website 🔗, Goodreads 🔗, Twitter 🔗, & Facebook 🔗!

Tour Participants:

Stop by these blogs to follow the tour and learn more about this awesome thriller!

Giveaway:

This is a rafflecopter giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Virtual Book Tours for Stephen Booth and WitnessImpulse. There will be 3 winners of one (1) eBook copy of Secrets of Death by Stephen Booth. The giveaway begins on March 30 and runs through May 1, 2017.

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BLOG TOUR – Secrets of Death was originally published on the Wordpress version of The Pulp and Mystery Shelf

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