#churchill england mugs

[yourcoffeeguru]

Churchill England Bone China Mug Renoir Luncheon of the Boating Party Design || SWtradepost - ebay

[blackswaneuroparedux]

The upward course of a nation's history is due in the long run to the soundness of heart of its average men and women.

- HM Queen Elizabeth II

A national holiday was declared in Britain for 8 May 1945. In the morning, Churchill had gained assurances from the Ministry of Food that there were enough beer supplies in the capital and the Board of Trade announced that people could purchase red, white and blue bunting without using ration coupons. There were even commemorative items hastily produced in time for the celebrations, including ‘VE Day’ mugs. Some restaurants had special ‘victory’ menus, too. Various events were organised to mark the occasion, including parades, thanksgiving services and street parties. Communities came together to share the moment. London’s St Paul’s Cathedral held ten consecutive services giving thanks for peace, each one attended by thousands of people.

Due to the time difference, VE Day in New Zealand was officially held on 9 May. The country’s leadership wanted to delay the national holiday until peace in Europe had been announced by Winston Churchill. New Zealanders therefore had to go to work on 8 May and wait until the following day to celebrate. In the Soviet Union, too, VE Day was on 9 May due to the different time zones.

Video: street celebrations to mark VE Day in Gateshead, England.

[mylunajewel]

Vintage KOALA Embossed Mug Cup made by Churchill England

[kinsmade1]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: vintage coffee Mug Tonquin Blue pattern CHURCHILL English collectible voille.

[alwaysinstitchesco]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Vintage Mug Set Vintage Churchill Blue Willow England Set of 3 Stackable 3".

[animala2z]

Bulldog Breed Puppies Price, Image, And All Special Guide Lines

The Bulldog is a British strain of canine of mastiff type. It may also be known as the English Bulldog or British Bulldog. It’s of medium size, a muscular, hefty canine with a wrinkled face and a distinctive pushed-in nose.

It’s generally kept as a companion canine; in 2013 it was in twelfth place on a list of the types most constantly registered worldwide.

The Bulldog has a longstanding association with British culture; the BBC wrote” to numerous the Bulldog is a public icon, symbolizing pluck and determination”.

During the Second World War, Prime Minister Winston Churchill was likened to a Bulldog for his defiance of Nazi Germany. The Bulldog Club ( In England) was formed in 1878, and the Bulldog Club of America was formed in 1890.

Bulldog’s timeless fashion

Horselaugh, love and a face everyone adores ensuring the enduring fashionability of the Bulldog. He is a gentle family companion moment, but he was first bred to fight bulls for sport – a history that, combined with his stalwart devotion, has made the strain the charm of a number of modalities as well as the United States Marine Corps. No strain is more admired for the rates of fidelity and determination that the Bulldog represents.

Many types are as fluently honored as the Bulldog, with his wrinkled mug, distinctive underbite, and Churchillian jowls. occasionally appertained to as the English or British Bulldog, he is a short, sturdy canine with an arc-lawful gait, importing between 40 and 60 pounds.

Still, the Bulldog is just about perfect, If all you are talking about is personality and disposition. He loves children and is veritably easy to train as a family pet.

He is an endless source of recreation, clever and veritably tender. He’s also an attention attraction far and wide he goes.

The Bulldog may be perfect in spirit, but in the meat, he’s a different story. These tykes are intolerant to warm rainfall and may die if overheated.

Too important exercise or stress can make it delicate for them to breathe. Without exception, Bulldogs must live outdoors and need air exertion in all but the mildest summer rainfall.

Utmost Bulldogs are born by C- the section. Because breeding them is precious, the puppies are, too. Love is a precious proposition when you enjoy a Bulldog.

Bulldog Facts

1) The Bulldog has a distinctive walk a loose- concerted, shuffling, sidewise roll.

2) numerous Bulldogs breathe in a labored fashion and it’s frequently delicate for their bodies to dissipate heat.

3) Bulldogs can’t swim. Their massive head, solid torso, and short legs limit their capability to stay above water. However, a gym or pond on your property, limits your Bulldog’s access to it, If you have a pool.

4) The Bulldog’s smooth fleece can be brindle, solid white, solid red, fawn or free, or piebald.

5) President Calvin Coolidge possessed a bulldog named” Boston sap,” who lived in the White House with the family and their other faves. President warren. Harding also had a bulldog in the White House, Old Boy.

6) Yale was the first university in the United States to borrow a charm — a bulldog named Handsome Dan. moment, dozens of sodalities and universities use a bulldog as their charm.

7) One of those council phylacteries, Drake University’s Griff, tried his stylish to meet all the presidential campaigners he could ahead of the 2020 presidential election.

8) Otto, a bulldog from Lima, Peru, set a world record in 2015 as” the longest mortal lair traveled through by a canine skateboarder.” Whatta canine.

The History Of Bulldog

The first reference to the word” Bulldog” is dated 1631 or 1632 in a letter by a man named Preswick Eaton where he writes” procure mee two good Bulldogs, and let them be transferred by ye first ship”.

In 1666, English scientist Christopher Merret applied” Canis pugnax, a bumbler’s Bull or Bear Dog”, as an entry in his Pinax Rerum Naturalium Britannicarum.

The designation” bull” was applied because of the canine’s use in the sport of bull-baiting. This included the setting of tykes onto a tethered bull. The canine that seized the bull by the nose and projected it to the ground would be the victor.

It was common for a bull to maim or kill several tykes at such an event, either by stabbing, tossing, or stamping over them.

Over the centuries, tykes used for bull-baiting developed heavyset bodies and massive heads and jaws that externalize the strain, as well as a ferocious and savage disposition.

[milliethekitty27-writing]

England and Tea

The very first time Arthur Kirkland had his first cup of tea, he wasn’t very impressed. It was popular elsewhere, especially in Portugal, but he’d just… never really liked it. He actually hadn’t tried it much, but João loved it and kept trying to convince him to drink it. Arthur usually waved a hand and made some other comment, generally teasing João about preferring leaf juice to a much stronger ale. João always rolled his eyes. 

“You’ll discover how delicious it is one day.” he’d say. 

“I think that we’ll find a black swan before that happens.” Arthur would roll his eyes right back and they’d carry on whatever conversation they’d been having.

João accompanied Catherine of Braganza when she traveled to Britain in 1662 to marry the new King Charles II. It was an awful crossing; even João looked a bit seasick. The princess immediately asked for a cup of tea after stepping off on the dock.

João laughed as Arthur flailed a little. Arthur offered her an ale instead, but the princess looked disappointed. 

“I think you’ll have to start looking for a black swan, my friend.” João said at the wedding ceremony. He was holding a cup of tea while Arthur still held onto an ale. “She’s going to take your court by storm.”

“She’s Catholic.” Arthur snorted into his mug. “That alone is enough.” 

Arthur liked Catherine, though. She was a bit pious, but she was fashionable. She walked with him fairly often, talking about the past kings and queens. She may not have been popular queen, surrounded by controversy, but for a Roman Catholic she wasn’t too bad. Catherine was a quiet and mild woman that never turned against her ever-sleeping-with-others husband and had grown to seemingly embrace the English court life. She grew on Arthur, for her love of the countryside, for her curiosity, and her personality. She was more interesting than he’d originally thought, even if she was Roman Catholic. 

She got him to taste tea in 1671, after years of trying to convince him. She pressed the cup into his unwilling hands and watched as he tasted it. 

He almost spat it out all over her and João almost cried laughing, visiting for a short period before he’d return home. 

“Ale is far better.” he said. She’d made a face at him and Charles II had laughed from where he was sitting. 

She had kept trying, though, and as it grew more popular Arthur had to cave - it wasn’t as bad as he thought. (he would die before he admitted it to João, though, because João was unbearable when he was smug) 

Arthur accompanied her to Portugal in 1692, several years after Charles II had died. He was going to wait a few days before returning back, both to settle her in and to speak with João about some issues, but she insisted he stay for tea one morning before he left. 

“Tell me, dear Arthur-” his former queen said rather mildly, her cup clicking onto the saucer. “-have you grown more fond of tea, or have all my efforts been in vain?” Arthur made a bit of a face.

“I like it.” he admitted finally. “Just don’t tell João.” João let out a bark of laughter, settling into the empty chair at Catherine’s other side after shucking off his coat. Arthur went red. “I just said it to make her happ-”

“Sure you did, my friend.” João kept grinning. “I suppose you’ll inform me that you’ve found some black swans, then?” Arthur scowled.

Arthur’s interest in tea grew and grew, even after Catherine died. Tea was popular at court, he’d say defensively. The East India Company, originally encouraged by Charles II, grew more and more powerful as it brought the tea he so loved. India and China had tea galore, which he savored on every visit. He declared war over spilled tea (America found out that the hard way) and found strength in the hot porcelain he’d press between his hands in any weather. He and João drank tea together despite the other trends, remembering a mild mannered queen who teased Arthur about his love for ale. 

The first nation Arthur invited for afternoon tea was João. It was 1850 and Arthur had attended a few of Duchess Anna of Bedford’s little tea parties. They were enjoyable and he enjoyed the hour or so to just relax a bit. João visited him and found Arthur sitting in the garden, a tray of sandwiches and cakes sitting next to the steaming pot of tea along with two cups. The British Empire raised an eyebrow.

“Are you coming to join me, then?” he asked rather dryly. João had laughed.

“If Catherine saw you now, I don’t think she’d recognize you.” 

“I have grown more refined with age.” João had shaken his head, but they’d sat in the garden and drunk their tea, chatting about this and that like the old men they were (much of it was spent complaining about their rowdier neighbors and the struggles of colonies) 

Arthur’s love of tea stayed with him to the current day. He recalled Matthew handing him a steaming mug before they set off to discuss the matter of confederation, or sitting with Neeraja under the hot Indian sun to bicker about business. He remembered holding the lukewarm cups in shaking hand as he hid in a foxhole with Francis, the pair of them silently remembering days when the only thing you had to fear from the sky was an arrow or the rain, or gripping a cup as Churchill roared assurances over the radio that the war was not over yet, that they would stay calm and carry on. He drank tea whenever his blood pressure threatened to boil over (which was frequent in those Cold War years) and he only refrained dunking his cup over Francis’ head when he was stupid because he’d much rather drink the cup. 

Arthur kept a great china cabinet in his household. Many of the cups were incredibly old and faded with age and use. Some of them were newer and the ones he broke out when João came over to visit and they took tea together. Some of them were gifts, some were ones he’d bought, but he had a few on the top shelf that had belonged to Catherine or the other royals he treasured. 

Oh yes, he’d hated tea before, but now he would drink it whenever he needed. He just wouldn’t thank João for introducing it to him. After all, he couldn’t have João getting too big of a head now.

Judging by João’s smug smile, João knew that Arthur appreciated tea too much and was just too proud to thank him for it. Git. 

----

Thanks for reading!

Read this on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28014237

This was written after I started wondering about tea in England, while drinking a cup of tea. For something that the English so love, it really hasn’t been around that long; it was popularized by Catherine of Braganza, a Portuguese princess, in the 1660s. 

I have midterms/finals coming up so I can’t be quite as thorough as I might have wanted to be, but that’s how life is in December; exams and holidays. Happy Hanukkah to those who celebrate! 

Source 1: “A Brief history and Types of British Tea” by Elaine Lemm. 

Source 2: “Afternoon Tea” by Ben Johnson

Source 3: “The History of Tea”

Source 4: “Catherine of Braganza” from Wikipedia

João Henrique Lisboa-Carriedo is a fan name I found for APH Portugal. Portugal and England have a super long history together, apparently going back to the Treaty of Windsor in 1386 and some events earlier. I like to think they’re friends that bitch about Spain, France, and literally everyone else plus get into passionate discussions about anything and everything. Neeraja is the name I’ve been using for India. 

Also, fun fact, there are black swans in Australia. England would explore Australia under James Cook in like 1770, so England actually liked tea before he found black swans. Ha ha.

[blissfulparker]

Ye in England chrchills ugly ass mug appears on the £5 note, and we've been brought up on the idea that Churchill was the best priminister, I only found out he was Hella racist from my sister and father, so I'm not too supried tom doesn't know he is racist...Also what is going on with the R*sso's tho I'm confused

Yeah I think the way y’all teach him is making it to look praised. But russos fucked up cherry but we’ve been knew that.

[shitty-check-please-aus]

I saw your tags about study abroad and now I need awful(or amazing) omgcp study abroad aus(I'm also that awful study abroad kid whoops)

CHECK PLEASE CHARACTERS AS STUDY ABROAD PEOPLE

Lardo, the only canon one to have studied abroad: Obviously super chill about it. Will talk about Kenya if asked, but isn’t going to be dramatic about it. Took some awesome photos. Actually gets them printed and framed. 

Bitty: Went to France for a 2 week program that probably shouldn’t even count. “Lord, y’all, they use so much butter it puts me to shame.” Tried to speak French but nobody could understand his accent. Cried at the Louvre because he was overwhelmed. Put up an eight paragraph facebook post about how he was deeply personally affected by the burning of Notre Dame with a picture of himself looking cute in front of it. 

Jack: Spent a semester in London studying WWII history. Went to the Churchill museum so much for research that he knew the guards by name. Developed a surprising tolerance for intensely spicy curry, and an even more shocking boredom with fish and chips, the chicken nuggets of England. When asked about studying abroad, he says “I’m Canadian, Massachusetts is abroad.” 

Shitty: Spent a summer as an intern in Parliament. Cried with happiness when his time there overlapped with Jack’s. Still regrets not throwing any milkshakes. Only brings it up when and if Brexit is finally over.  

Dex: Samwell has a “study abroad” in San Francisco for tech people to get internships, like how my school had a “study abroad” in LA for film majors to get internships. “Thank fuck for my scholarship covering rent,” he texts Chowder. “Go to this restaurant and order that,” Chowder texts back. 

Nursey: Was already fluent in Spanish, goes to Madrid for a year and comes back with a lisping accent that all the Mexican kids make fun of him for. Wears a Universidad Complutense de Madrid hoodie for a month when he gets back. Posts amazing instagrams from a trip to La Sagrada Familia and Barcelona. Did accidentally eat too many weed brownies in Barcelona and forgot where his hostel was. 

Chowder: Spent a semester in the Dominican Republic. Rarely texted his friends, except to send a picture of a giant spider in his bathtub and a few follow-up texts praising his host mom for crushing the giant spider for him. Comes back without much of a tan but as best friends with the people in his program. Tries to get the friend groups to interact. Fails to get the friend groups to interact. 

Holster: Studied in some random-ass place like Amsterdam. Definitely took a picture at the Fault in Our Stars Bench. Sent all his family and friends some bizarre souvenirs from the airport after spending a semester not buying them anything. “Here is… a tulip-shaped mug. And a wooden-shoe-shaped mug.” Talks about how we should really bike more in the states for three months.

Ransom: Spent a summer in Japan. Constant instagram stories about the novelty snacks he ate, the #struggle of being too tall for everything, the interesting vending machines, everything. Does not take any actual pictures, but does end up with a story highlight on his instagram that is 1,348 pictures and videos long. Comes home with some J-beauty and K-beauty mascaras for his sisters, who are delighted, and some snacks for Holster, who is even more delighted.

Ford: Went to Australia! Took about 500 pictures with a koala. Joked that her mail could be sent to 42 Wallaby Way, Sydney. Someone on the team missed the joke and spent a lot of shipping money in vain. Is no longer afraid of the small spiders of the US. 

Whiskey: Did he study abroad? Or was he just gone for a semester? Who can know?

Tango: Went to study in Italy because that’s what his mom did. All of the Italians hear his accent when he says something like “Buongiorno, un piccolo gelato con ananas e mango– “ and they immediately respond in English. His accent isn’t even that bad, they’re just used to Americans not understanding anything. Only did a summer program because he was worried about messing up his class plans and hockey. By the end of the program he has three favorite gelato places and dreams of opening up a place in the US that makes good pineapple and mango gelato. Will never understand the Naples dialect.

[dearophelia]

whiteout conditions [madam secretary]

fine is a four-letter word

1500 words, PG, Elizabeth, Elizabeth/Henry | also on AO3 | based on this prompt about Elizabeth’s first post-Iran panic attack by @lilacmermaid25

She dozes on the plane. There’s a bed for her tucked away somewhere, but that feels a bit too much like sleeping. And with sleeping comes staying awake and staring at the ceiling, so if she lies down on the couch in her office, turns off all but one lamp, kicks off her shoes and closes her eyes, she can pretend that she isn’t sleeping and fake herself into it anyway.  

An old Company trick she last used on a hardwood floor in a safe house outside Baghdad. Eight hours until her evac, she was running on 40 awake and knew she wasn’t going to make it the full two days. Not if she wanted to make it from the safe house to the LZ alive. And she had three very good reasons to make it to the LZ alive.  

All things considered, her leather couch in her office aboard her plane is significantly more comfortable than that uneven hardwood floor in the 110-in-the-shade heat. Which is probably why she can’t manage more than twelve minutes without waking up.  

Elizabeth sighs and scrubs a hand over her face. She checks her watch, squinting at the too-bright display in the dim light, and sighs again. Another two hours until landing - too late to take the sleeping pills Nadine has in stock for them on international flights with weird departure times. She’s stuck with the couch and pretending that she isn’t trying to sleep.  

She turns on her side and manages another three minutes before the plane hits a bump of turbulence and sends the attendants and their drink cart crashing into the wall just behind her head -

and suddenly her ears are ringing and there’s dust and plaster showering down around her, and Abdol’s screaming for his father who lies dead between them with his eyes open, staring at her, and she tries to crawl to him but Fred’s a dead weight on top of her and not moving

and as Fred’s arm falls down limply she realizes - amidst the screaming and the ringing and the shrapnel and the dawning sensation that she’s bleeding - that dead weight is literal

she tries to move, tries to push Fred off of her to get to Abdol but there’s more, there’s gunfire and another explosion, and everything’s too bright and too loud and she thinks of Alison’s birthday and the Laffy String fight -

Elizabeth inhales sharply and shoves the blanket off and sits up. She rests her head in her hands, threading her fingers through her hair, and just tries to breathe.  

I’m fine, she told Henry this morning. It’s England. Perfectly safe. She smiled, kissed him, hugged their children, and got into the black SUV waiting outside.

She is fine. She doesn’t have time to be not-fine. She has a meeting with the Prime Minister and several cabinet members, and there’s a thing with the Queen that may or may not be happening that her staff has been briefing her on for the past week. And then when she gets back there’s the peace talks and Russia and Greece and Juliet and -

Elizabeth forces herself to take a breath, and think. She solves problems for a living, and this should be cake compared to Middle East peace talks or saving Greece’s failing economy.  

In addition to her office and an actual working surgical bay, there’s a small workout room. She drinks the entirety of a lukewarm bottle of water and then goes in search of the sneakers she always packs on these trips in false hope she’ll actually have time for the treadmill.  

***

There is such a thing as too much coffee. She found that out in Yemen after finally getting what she needed from a sixteen-hour nonstop interrogation.  

And now, thirteen years later, she’s in a conference room in Whitehall, one cup of coffee away from too much.

Elizabeth doesn’t know what she’s saying. She hears words coming out of her mouth and sees the Secretary’s eyes go wide, she feels herself yelling at a man she’s known since she was sixteen, but a truck rumbles past and she’s on the floor of Javani’s living room, staring into his lifeless eyes while his son cries and her bodyguard lies dead on top of her.  

It’s like she’s catapulted over the line into way too much coffee even though she’s only had water in the past hour - she’s sweating and shaking, can’t think, can’t stand up, can’t breathe.  

She manages to excuse herself properly, manners holding steady only through muscle memory, and exits the room, leaving three stunned British cabinet members behind.  

Nadine takes one look at her and shuttles her off to the side room they’ve been granted, telling Blake to get a doctor here and fast and silent.  

“I can’t breathe,” Elizabeth rasps and she stumbles, leaning heavily on Nadine, who takes all her weight without so much as a hitch.

Daisy drops her phone, it clatters on the table like gunfire, and rushes to her side, helping her into a chair. Elizabeth hears her staff talking, but none of the words make any sense, and she can’t get to Abdol. Javani’s dead and Fred’s on top of her and she’s bleeding and the ringing in her ears is so loud but Abdol’s screams are louder and she can’t get to him, can’t hug him, can’t shield him from his father’s body.  

God only knows where Daisy finds a paper bag, and Elizabeth sure can’t hear anything, but something deep inside of her understands what Daisy’s trying to get her to do.  

By the time the doctor gets there - seven minutes, at most - she’s breathing again, but she’s sobbing into Nadine’s shoulder while a portrait of Winston Churchill watches over them.

***

“It was a panic attack,” she says softly, after telling him everything.  

Her staff has handled damage control, and she’s apologized to the Secretaries she yelled at, claiming jet lag and too many time zones in not enough days. The thing with the Queen is definitely not happening - something about a pregnant corgi, she’s fuzzy on the details - so thankfully she has one thing knocked off her list.  

Henry sighs quietly and smiles softly at her. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“That’s debatable.”

He snorts, a completely unattractive noise she’d give anything to hear in person right now. But she’s an ocean away and video will have to suffice. “You know what I mean.”

A smile - a small one, but a smile nonetheless - tugs at her lips. “You were right,” she says. “I may not be entirely…fine.”

“That’s okay,” he assures her.  

Elizabeth waits for the joke to come, the smirk and I know how much it pains you to admit I’m right, but it doesn’t. She looks away, nearly drowning in the weight of how worried he is. She clasps her mug of tea in both hands, relishing the warmth, and tries not to hear explosions in the sky as thunder rolls quietly in the distance.  

“Hey,” he says, drawing her attention back to her laptop, “I can still fly over.”

Shaking her head, she rests against the pillows behind her. “No, we’re leaving in a day and a half. By the time you got here, you’d just have to turn around. I’ll be…” she feels fine start to form on her lips, and changes direction before the lie can fall out again. “I’ll see you when I get home.”

Henry nods. “Okay.” He holds her gaze for another moment, and she gives him a little smile. Nodding, he changes the subject, to Jason and his gigantic security guard.  

He stays with her on the video chat even as the chamomile settles in, even as she lies down and tucks up underneath the comforter, even as the clock rolls over and it becomes Tuesday for him too, still talking. Their kids, Stevie and work, Alison living in the aftermath of Jason’s expulsion, Jason and the social dramas of public school. Henry’s book, actually near finished, and he sends her a few final pages she skims and promises to read for real on the plane on the way home. 

Conversation drifts into other topics, lighter ones like the Nationals blowing an eight-run lead to be obliterated by the Padres, and whether she’d like pasta or steak when she gets back (surprise me), and a new Coeur de Pirate album.  

As she starts to drift off, the combination of chamomile mixed with sheer exhaustion an inevitable path to sleep, she hears Henry say her name.  

She opens her eyes.  

“I love you,” he says.  

“I love you, too.” Elizabeth reaches out and brushes her fingers over the screen, as if she could reach through the screen and touch him. She sniffs and drops her hand. “I know it’s late, but would you, uhm. Stay with me?”

His smile does more to settle her than anything else has all day. More than the soft breathe in, breathe out from Daisy, more than whatever the doctor gave her, more than takeaway Indian for dinner with her staff while watching Graham Norton, more than the chamomile and very hot bath.  

“Of course,” he says. “Sleep well.”

She folds her glasses and sets them on the bedside table. “I love you,” she murmurs, settling back down under the fluffy comforter.

“I love you,” he says, and it’s the last thing she hears before she finally drifts into a solid, dreamless sleep.  

[remuses13-blog]

Churchill England Red cars Fine Bone China Colorful Mugs for kids / coffee cups Henny penny 2 Churchill mugs , new in excellent condition http://nemb.it/p/LQ6M2N3=j/tumblr

[yourcoffeeguru]

Vintage Churchill made England Mug  -- autradingpost - shop

[euroman1945-blog]

The Daily Thistle

The Daily Thistle – Historical and Archeological News From Scotland

Friday 7th September 2018

"Madainn Mhath” …Fellow Scot, I hope the day brings joy to you….  The first thing I will ask you to do, is SHARE this edition of The Daily Thistle as Facebook has restricted me once again from sharing to groups I do not control or am an Admin of… so please SHARE the hell out of this post… on a more Happier note they have been digging up the Queens garden and finding all sorts of stuff and as I get more information I shall let you know.. so read on and enjoy.. I’m going to have another cup of coffee..

QUEEN'S EDINBURGH RESIDENCE YIELDS 800-YEAR-OLD ARTIFACTS…. EDINBURGH, SCOTLAND—According to a BBC report, archaeologists have uncovered artifacts going back 800 years at the Palace of Holyrood House, Queen Elizabeth II's official residence in Scotland. Discoveries include a twelfth-century jug fragment, a horse skeleton, and a medieval shoe, as well as a cache of oyster shells and wine bottles. The latter may provide insight into the diets of courtiers and ambassadors during the reigns of Mary, Queen of Scots, and James VI of Scotland, who became James I after being crowned king of England in 1603. Researchers also unearthed wine and spirit vessels, food remains, and fragments of children's games, which belonged to families living in nearby tenements during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. "The survey has provided a unique opportunity to understand more about the fascinating development of the Abbey Strand and its surroundings," says archaeologist Gordon Ewart, referring to the stretch of Edinburgh's Royal Mile that culminates at the palace, "and to explore how the site has been the historic and symbolic bridge between the palace and the city of Edinburgh for centuries."

ON THIS DAY IN HISTORY…. This day in 1836 saw the birth of Henry Campbell Bannerman, the British Prime Minister. Born in Glasgow and educated at Glasgow and Cambridge, Bannerman became the Liberal MP for Stirling in 1868, a position he held until his death. He climbed the parliamentary ranks, serving as Secretary for Ireland during Gladstone's administration in 1884 and entering the cabinet as Secretary for War in 1886, before becoming leader of the Liberal Party in 1899. Bannerman became Prime Minister in 1905 following Balfour's resignation, and led his party to a landslide victory in the 1906 general election. His brilliant cabinet included Asquith, Lloyd George, and Winston Churchill. Ill health forced Bannerman to hand over the leadership to Asquith, and he died two weeks later in 1908.

GAVIN MAXWELL PASSED AWAY ON THIS DAY…. He lived from 15 July 1914 to 7 September 1969. He was a naturalist and author, best known for his work with otters. His most popular book was Ring of Bright Water, published in 1960. This described how he brought an otter back from Iraq and raised it in Scotland. The otter, Mijbil, was eventually identified as a previously unknown sub-species of the Smooth-coated Otter, since named after Maxwell: Lutrogale perspicillata maxwelli. The book went on to sell over a million copies and was made into a film. The sub-species Lutrogale perspicillata maxwelli may have fared less well: following extensive drainage of its natural environment in Iraq it is feared to be extinct… I must at this point tell you he had nothing to do with a Silver Hammer..

IN THIS WEEK…. The Shetland Isles were mortgaged to Scotland for 8,000 florins as part of the marriage agreement between the future James III and Princess Margrethe of Denmark.  For the most northerly railway in Britain, go to Thurso. For the "most northerly" of just about anything else, you need to come to Shetland. The name, sometimes in the past referred to as Zetland (hence the "ZE" beginning to postcodes), comes from the Norse name for the islands, Hjaltland. For accommodation in Shetland see the links in the "See and Stay" menu above. See the map below for an outline of Shetland and links to connecting areas. Because most maps of Scotland include Shetland in a box near the top right hand corner, not many people have a strong sense of where this archipelago of 100 islands and islets lies. It comes as a surprise to many to discover it is nearer Bergen than Aberdeen; that it is further north than Moscow or southern Greenland; and that Lerwick is as far as Milan from London. The population of Shetland is around 23,000. Shetland was Norse until 8 September 1468, when the islands were mortgaged to Scotland for 8,000 florins as part of the marriage agreement between the future James III and Princess Margrethe of Denmark. In 1472 the Scots annexed both Shetland and Orkney.

HUGH MACDIARMID PASSED AWAY THIS WEEK IN 1951….Hugh MacDiarmid, was the pen name of Christopher Murray Grieve, who lived from 11 August 1892 to 9 September 1978. He is widely regarded as the most important Scottish poet of the 20th Century. He moved with his wife to Biggar in 1951 and that was where died on 9th September 1978. In all Grieve/MacDiarmid published around 30 books and many shorter works and articles. The poetry he produced in his later life is often viewed as difficult and inaccessible, but brilliant. The two volume Complete Poems, published after Grieve's death, ran to 1500 pages.

On that note I will say that I hope you have enjoyed the news from Scotland today,

Our look at Scotland today is of a peculiar nature or is that, nature at it's most peculiar...?

A Sincere Thank You for your company and Thank You for your likes and comments I love them and always try to reply, so please keep them coming, it's always good fun, As is my custom, I will go and get myself another mug of "Colombian" Coffee and wish you a safe Friday 7th September 2018 from my home on the southern coast of Spain, where the blue waters of the Alboran Sea washes the coast of Africa and Europe and the smell of the night blooming Jasmine and Honeysuckle fills the air…and a crazy old guy and his dog Bella go out for a walk at 4:00 am…on the streets of Estepona…

All good stuff....But remember it’s a dangerous world we live in

Be safe out there…

Robert McAngus #Scotland #News #Spain

[kinsmade1]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: vintage coffee Mug Tonquin Blue pattern CHURCHILL English collectible.

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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: VTG Blue and White epic Design 4 Set Mugs.

[revolutionaryeye]

The Real Winston Churchill

Churchill was no hero — he was a vile racist fanatical about violence and fiercely supportive of imperialism.

Twenty-one-year-old Winston Churchill in the uniform of the Fourth Queen’s Own Hussars, 1895.

by Richard Seymour

                                                                                                                              During the May Day protests in England in 2000, nothing infuriated the British establishment — its press, its politicians, its courts of respectable opinion — more than the desecration of Winston Churchill’s statue in Parliament Square. The savage blood red spray-painted around Churchill’s mouth, the livid green strip of grass giving him a mohawk haircut, transforming the stoical father of the nation into the Joker, was unconscionable. Iconoclasm was all very well, to be encouraged even, but not when the target was an actual icon!

It is difficult to convey the symbolic and emotional value of this man to Britain’s ruling class, and to a significant though declining number of its citizens. Those whose national consciousness is shaped by folk memories of World War II, probably the last moment of “greatness” save for England’s World Cup win in 1966, mostly know Churchill as the man who, more than any other, crushed the Nazi menace. Leading a wartime coalition government, he exhorted what had been a badly led and sold-out nation to dare, and win. He saved the British state, steering it through one of its worst crises. In his lifetime, Churchill was the last truly loved British leader; no one has since come close.

When I was at school in the 1980s in the north of Ireland, emerald jewel of the Empire, this was still a powerful sentiment. Our red-faced, Unionist history teacher, exploring World War II, recounted with pride an apocryphal story wherein Hitler, having heard that Churchill was leading the war effort, said with awe-stricken wonder, “What will we do now?” And we pupils, bright-eyed and remote, were deeply satisfied to think of it. What will you do now? Get your ass kicked, that’s what. Don’t mess with the best.

Churchill is, besides being a national myth, a minor cottage industry, and the source of endless nostalgic tat. Books celebrating his wicked wit, mugs adorned with his mug, tea towels quoting the great man, endless court historians — and when it comes to Churchill, there is almost no other kind of historian — recapitulating his glories. Is there a movie about him now, with Gary Oldman? Throw it into the pile with the last movie with Brian Cox, and the one before that with Brendan Gleeson, and the one before that with Albert Finney, and the one before that with Michael Gambon. The industry is tantamount to a Works Progress Administration for our actorly “national treasures,” and a mini-boom may now be underway as certain sentiments circulating around Brexit have fueled a cultural return to Empire.

For me, though, the luster wore off long ago, and I found myself in Parliament Square admiring the handiwork of those protesters. What went wrong?....

Continued:- https://jacobinmag.com/2018/01/winston-churchill-british-empire-colonialism/