#tree removal westminster

[tammylyn45]

Tree trimmer westminster

Our hiring practices are always to hire certified Arborists and Arborists in training. So you can be assured that you have a skilled and professional crew on site at all times. Our crew has been highly trained, has decades of experience, and is up-to-date on all of the newest advancements in our field.

[colorado-blog-evertime]

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[darklydeliciousdesires]

London Will Burn - Chapter Six.

Your continued enthusiasm for the story is so exciting for me to read, besties! Thank you so much :)

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five

Tag list - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed

Words - 3,507

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. Minors DNI.

It was the sunshine finally making an appearance across London that awoke Sean the following morning, the bright beams streaming in through the thin fabric of Rin’s curtains. He could hear the bells of Westminster Abbey sounding softly in the distance, birdsong in the nearby trees, and the soft breaths of the girl still sleeping in his arms.  

This posed a dilemma for him. Not because he wasn’t content lying there in a large, soft bed with a beautiful young woman, but more because he had a very full bladder, and didn’t want to disturb her by entangling himself to go and empty it. Two careful manoeuvres to free his arms later, and he was able to slide from the bed, Rin sleeping on.  

Returning to the warm soft of her nudity, he thought he’d gotten away with being stealthy, even heading for the bathroom a little way down the corridor rather than using her ensuite so the flush didn’t wake her.  

“Morning.” That smile, god. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d awoken to a smile so pretty. It was something he could definitely get used to seeing.  

“Shit,” he mumbled, wrapping an arm around her as she turned to him. “I was trying not to wake you.” 

“No matter,” she spoke on a yawn, turning to reach for her watch. “Mm, it’s only ten past eight. We can sleep in, unless you have somewhere to be?” 

He smiled, stroking her hair. “The only place I have to be is right here.” His usual Sunday would involve a trip to the gym, coffee on the way back and then an afternoon working from home. While Rin dozed against his chest, it was work that he had firmly upon his mind; namely how he could wash the amount of cash for the Kurdish and Albanian outfits needed through any other of the Wallace Corporation’s current projects, without having to secure the bid on the new complex.  

Laundering had to be done very, very carefully. There was only so many zeros one could tack onto legitimate expenditures without falling under the ever-watchful eye of accountants and HMRC, who would of course come down hard and involve the police, should anything even look slightly amiss with the company finances.  

He wracked his brains until he felt exhausted by it, eyes growing heavy again. He was stuck. Turning over, he wrapped Rin in a tight embrace, falling back into slumber. It took him by surprise, that he managed to doze for a further hour, finding the girl he had wound himself around so tightly still sleeping. Oh no. That would not do.  

Rin awoke with a bit of a start at feeling her legs splayed wide beneath the bed covers, her sleepy brain wondering what was going on until she felt Sean’s tongue take a slow swipe at her folds, the haze of sleep clearing rapidly. Well, if anything was going to act as an efficient wake up call, it was the sublimity of waking to feel her clit being licked.  

She virtually whimpered, feeling his tongue flatten and drag her again, her hands sinking into his hair and tugging gently. Trembling against each keenly delivered lick, her back arched, her body urging him to press closer. He read her need faultlessly.  

“Fuck, you’re too bloody good!” That firmer contact of wet heat pressed firmly upon her clit sent sparks skittering through her, a warm flush reaching her cheeks as she gasped and cried out softly. She could feel him smile against her, and she wanted to call him out for his smugness, but he had every right to be so. The tip of his tongue traced a series of circles down to her gently fluttering hole, Rin hissing a breath as he pushed within, the honey of her cunt bathing his mouth.   

He grunted against her, hands flexing at her thighs as he felt her streaming against his mouth, licking slowly through her folds again, plump lips wrapping her clit in a warm, sumptuous hug. The pleasure poured over her, like the gild from the sunlight steaming through the curtains, pushing the covers off them to beam a smile at him. His returned it, winking, his pupils lust blown already. 

The steel blue of his irises was only concealed by enviably long, golden eyelashes closing, lips still sucking at her, a little more pressure, the tip of his tongue rolling over her bud adding to the shocks that roared up her spine. Pleasure pooled golden in her very marrow, her hips shaking against his face, thighs closing around his head as she panted hard, feeling the heat begin to swirl and snap.   

Teetering on it, she felt bereft when he suddenly moved, but the slide of his cock arrowing deep into her soaking core as his body pressed to hers took her there, nirvana swirling, her cries of release muted by his mouth. She expected to the pleasure to begin ebbing away, but as she clutched his shoulders, the blaze burned forth again, Rin experiencing her first multiple orgasm as she bloomed beneath him.  

Her shudders reverberated over his muscles, her cries rending the air as he gently laid soft bites along her jaw, looking down at her with a smirk. “You just came again, didn’t you?” 

“Mmhmm.” Her hum was so dreamy and blissed-out, Sean couldn’t help but chuckle softly.  

“Shall we see if we can make that happen a third time?”  

She met his mouth with sweet kisses, her hands smoothing over his scratched-up back. “You’d better.” Something shifted, and they both felt it, Sean laughing softly as he continued to fuck her slow, stroking one another, sharing kisses, the tempo lazy and rolling. “This isn’t just casual anymore, is it?”  

What a question, because no, it wasn’t, but the impossibility of what he had to achieve made it just that. It was impossible for him to attain what he needed to keep his father pleased, while ensuring that hers fell in line, without her becoming hurt in it all.  

 Looking down at her, he stroked her face, his stare unblinking. She felt his heart quickening against her breast, his arms weaving to clasp her tighter, sinking into a long kiss. Therein was her answer. 

And for Sean? He knew that the video was getting deleted. He’d find another way. He had to find another way.  

Rutting into her deeply, he felt the pleasure fizzing over his bones, his release like the gentle patter of warm hail prickling upon his nerves, taking her with him into the blossom of release. They lay breathless and entwined after, Sean eventually moving to lie next to her, his chest fluttering at her smile as he reached to tuck her hair behind her ear.  

“You're bloody lovely, you know." 

That smile did nothing but widen. “I have my moments, when I'm not being a gobby twat." 

Laughing quietly, he pulled her close. “I like the gobby twat in you, though.”  

They lay there talking and dozing until the need for food drove them out of the bed, Rin opening the door to find a fresh pile of laundry that included Sean’s clothes she’d left outside the previous night. Their housekeeper Maisie was nothing if not entirely proficient in the speed she would return clean garments.  

The staff usually had the weekend off, especially if not many of the family were in residence, but that particular Sunday they were bustling around, readying the house for Kevin and Diane’s return.  

“I’m bloody famished, Roger!” Rin called, entering the kitchen to find their chef at the island, peeling potatoes ready for the roast dinner that night. “Would you mind so much if I came in and caused a bit of chaos in cooking?” 

His face pinched, slicing the potato in his grasp before plonking it into the large iron pot in front of him. “Your brand of kitchen chaos is barely tolerable. What would you like? I’ll make it.” 

“Full English, times two please. I’ll make the coffee, though.” She then paused, turning to Sean. “You eat meat, right? I noticed you only ordered fish things last night.” 

“I do, yes.” 

“Thank the lord,” Roger snorted, drying his hands on a tea towel. “I never enjoy trying to make a palatable breakfast for vegetarians. One of her little besties is a vegan, and it always throws me, having to go and order tofu and attempt to bloody scramble it.” 

Sean raised an eyebrow, his mouth thinning. “Scrambled tofu? That sounds utterly dreadful.” 

Oh, how right he was, the chef remembering well how it was perhaps the only thing he’d ever cooked that he did not enjoy trying. “I do not recommend it.” 

Reaching for the cupboard, Rin then quickly found herself knocked out of the way by a hip bump, Roger laughing softly. “Oi! I’m just trying not to be a spoilt little rich girl who can’t do things for herself!” 

“And I like my kitchen to remain tidy, without the bloody coffee grinds going everywhere! You and your chap can go and make yourselves comfortable and I’ll sort it. Go on, shoo!”  

Picking up an orange, she rolled it down her arm and popped it off her inner elbow, catching it neatly. “Fine, we’ll be in the conservatory.” They left the kitchen, taking a long walk down to the centre of the house, turning left at the roped off section, Rin giving a little wave to a few tourists who were being shown around the part open to the public.  

The conservatory itself had been a Victorian era add on. In truth, it had originally intended as a massive greenhouse, and still somewhat served such a purpose. Some botany still existed in there, plants edging the perimeters, comfortable furniture dotted around, she and Sean taking a seat at the table. Looking around, his eye was caught by a set of framed photographs upon a small bookshelf, reaching to grasp it.  

“You’re brave,” he spoke, looking up from the image of Rin sitting in the middle of an arid landscape, with a young lioness lazing on her back before her.  

“Yeah, I can’t act like that with her any longer now she’s grown, we don’t go to the reserve often enough for her to recognise me,” she lamented, looking over at the picture of her and Mya. 

Sean wouldn’t even have trusted her at the size she was, although the beast did look very content, flopped down receiving belly rubs. “Is it one of those places where they allow you to play with the cubs until they reach a certain age? I’ve heard of those holidays, frightfully expensive affairs.” 

“No, the reserve belongs to dad. Animals are where his heart lies, and he fucking hates trophy hunting, so he always said he wanted to do something about it. That something was buying up a gigantic reserve in the middle of nowhere in Kenya and dedicating it to a safe space for them. I bloody love it there. Our closest neighbours are a tribe about eight miles away, it’s so remote.” 

It was a softness Sean didn’t expect to learn about his business nemesis, the man having an obvious affinity for African wildlife – as well as plenty of money to spare in funding the preservation of it. It made a wave of bitter bile roll through his stomach, remembering being haggled with when in truth, Kevin was short of nothing and did not need to whatsoever. He did it purely because he could, and now was going to get away with it, all because Sean had softened towards his target of blackmail.  

It began to gnaw at him again, meaning that once their breakfast arrived, he only managed to successfully eat two thirds of it, pushing the rest around the plate.  

“You’ve got quiet on me,” Rin noted, sipping her coffee. “Is that because I’m likely talking way too much?” 

He shook his head, the corner of his mouth tilting up. “Just tired, darling. I’m listening, so you carry on.” She did, telling him more about their vast African property, how she loved being out there more than anywhere else in the world, purely for how remote it was.  

It was while she was taking the plates back to the kitchen and going upstairs to retrieve her phone that he took his out and checked it, seeing he had an abundance of missed calls from it being on silent mode.  

“Oh, you are alive, then?” His father answered on the fourth ring. “Where’ve you been?” 

“I am,” he confirmed, sweeping toast crumbs into a pile with his index finger. “Just spending a weekend off the grid. Does a man good, to unplug from life for a couple of days.” 

Finn sighed. His son could be very impulsive like that, hence why he hadn’t worried too much about his vanishing act. “Well, you better be plugging yourself back in sharpish, boyo. The deadline for that bid is midnight tonight, unless you’re going to give me the news I’ve been waiting for, that you’ve secured the contract with Kevin?” 

“And if I can’t get it?” he broached, pinching his bridge of his nose. “Is there a way around all of this that would mean we can still invest in another project to facilitate the same long-term goal?”  

“This isn’t about finding other ways around it, Sean.” His tone was stern, biting, leaving his son under no illusion over his feelings, should he not secure the deal. “You either win, or you fail. I want that money, I want that port and I want that fucking bid. If it doesn’t happen then trust me, it’ll reflect upon anything I trust you with, going forward.”  

“Okay, but...” 

“No fucking buts!” Finn was emphatic, Sean closing his eyes as he swallowed back a sigh. “Do whatever the fuck you have to do in order for him to comply. That’s the fucking end of it. Bye.”  

He wanted to pick up the chair he was sitting in and hurl it through the glass of the structure he was presently in, a display of his fiery temper he knew he had to quell again. God, the fucking position he was in.  

The fucking position he’d put himself in.  

Sean realised that truly, he could blame his father all he liked, but it wouldn’t stop this mess from being his problem. If he was a better negotiator, he would have secured the contract already. If he was more like his father, he wouldn’t have faced the disrespect he had in the first place. If he was any less like his father, he wouldn’t have done something duplicitous in order to find a way through this mess, a way he now knew there was a very real chance he actually had to take.  

Or, just admit defeat and tell his father to fuck off. Not because he’d fallen desperately in love or anything, Sean was not that kind of person. It had more to do with his sense of morality, and wondering how little he’d truly have left if he did go ahead as planned. But then, if he didn’t... 

It was no small number, two hundred million. They needed it desperately to keep the money laundering racket continuing, but at what cost to him? He would never again witness Rin looking at him the way she had on that morning, when he’d reached across the bed and tucked her hair behind her ear. He could have something real with her, with perhaps the one person in his world capable of understanding him truly, for her reality near enough matched his own. 

Whatever the path, he knew he couldn’t stay there within the bubble of Mulford Hall with Rin while he came to that decision, though.  

“I’m afraid I have to leave, darling,” he spoke when she entered again. Immediately, she looked disappointed.  

“Oh, okay. Business calling, yeah?” 

He nodded, dropping a kiss atop her head. After grabbing his jacket, she saw him down to the side door, unlocking it, noting how warm the spring sun was as it illuminated that particular patch of the courtyard. “So, I’ll see you soon, yeah? Call me when you’re free and we can try and arrange something.” 

She noticed it right away, the discomfort in him, Sean rolling his shoulders up as he stuffed his hand into his pocket to retrieve his keys. “I’d say yes, but...” He shook his head, reaching to stroke her cheek. “You deserve better than me.”  

“What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?” she spluttered, baffled at the sudden frigidness of his cold shoulder.  

“It means exactly what it’s meant to, Catherine.”  

He turned to leave, not uttering another word, and Rin certainly having more pride than to chase after him and demand he give her an explanation. It bothered her for the rest of the day, though, spending a good forty minutes on a FaceTime call to Rashida in order to rant about it.  

The explanation found its way into the ether seven hours later, the chain of events that would lead to her having Sean’s intentions revealed as her mum and dad were whisked from Gatwick in the back of a limousine later that evening.  

“Are you golfing on Thursday, love?” Diane asked, pulling her attention away from her phone. “We’ve received quite the last-minute invite to one of Sissy Hansen – Whiteman's lunches. Why we’re such an afterthought, goodness bloody knows, but I’d like to be politer than she is being in extending the invite so late.” 

“No, babe. I’m playing Wednesday morning before my meetings. Tell her we’ll be there,” he spoke. He could do with bending her husband’s ear about a few business deals, Harry Wiseman being very suggestable to further ways he could coin a profit.  

While his wife went about sending a reply, he heard his own phone beep, pulling it from his pocket to see he had a Whatsapp message from none other than Sean Wallace. A last-ditch attempt to gain his business, he wagered, opening it up to find a video file.  

Waiting for a few moments for the 5G coverage to pick up, the video began to play, Kevin frowning bemusedly before snorting a laugh. “Oh, lad. I don’t think I was the intended recipient of that.” he chuckled, shaking his head as he looked away from the screen, the video playing a filming of Sean going down on who he assumed to be his girlfriend or suchlike.  

“Are you watching porn?” Diane shouted at him from the other side of the car, hearing the moans of a woman in utter ecstasy.  

“Not of my own volition, sweetheart. I think Sean Wallace has got his contacts mixed up.” He was just about send a message back stating such, when the video changed shot. A pit the size of the limo they rode in dropped into his stomach at witnessing the girl whose face had so far been hidden was, Sean yanking her head back by her hair as he railed her from behind. A voice note message then followed. 

“Sign the contract, Kevin, or this gets released to the internet. I am done playing your games, now it’s time for you to bend to my will. Just like your daughter quite literally did. You have until midnight. As soon as the contract is signed and the funds transferred, the video will be deleted. You have my word.”  

Immediately, his phone was hurled in a fit of undiluted rage, the cold discomfort of what he’d just witnessed engulfing him entirely. “You little fucking cunt, Wallace! You fucking...”  

All that followed were growls of agitation, Kevin experiencing the bite of an icy freeze chill his veins, his wife attempting to get what had happened out of him but failing as his verbal tirade of utter fury did nothing but escalate. He was puce and sweating as he reached for his phone again, knowing he had no choice. His daughter’s dignity was non-negotiable. As any father knew, his duty was to protect his children.  

Still, it was with a tidal wave of bile licking his insides, putting his signature to that contract and organising for the release of funds, telephoning Sean as soon as it was done.  

“It’s done. Funds and docks are yours, but I swear to Christ above, if you ever fucking come near my daughter again, I will gut you. Heed my warning, because it’ll fucking happen.”  

Sean hung up, feeling what remained of the glowing buzz his weekend with Rin had left him with die off completely, leaving nothing but a stinging feeling behind that persisted right into the next day.  

Arriving at The Strand a few hours after his meeting, he exited the car to see his father just about to head in through the sleek glass doors, quickening his stride to catch him. He wasn’t the only one to exit a car and stride to catch up, though... 

[vintage-london-images]

Who would have thought that on the present site of the Central Methodist Hall opposite Westminster Abbey, there was once a huge 'pleasure palace' hosting a music hall and variety acts and could accommodate a 400 piece orchestra

Designed by Alfred Bedborough at the height of empire, the building was complete and open to the public in 1876. Named The Royal Aquarium and Winter Garden, the building had within it an aquarium and an attached theatre which had a main hall 340 feet long by 160 feet wide, it was covered with a glass and iron roof and was decorated with palm trees, fountains and sculptures. There was thirteen large aquarium water tanks which were meant originally to be filled with fish and sea creatures and 'wonders of the depths', but that never happened and the tanks remained empty. The only 'sea creature' that was eventually ever displayed was a dead whale, but for obvious reasons it was quickly removed.

The building and venue which became known as 'The Tank' became a bit of a lemon, and lost its popularity and was quietly closed down. The building and land was sold to the Wesleyan Methodist Church in 1903. The the site was cleared and the Methodist Central Hall was built on the site in 1911.

[atotc-weekly]

Book the First—Recalled to Life

[X] Chapter I. The Period

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way—in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.

There were a king with a large jaw and a queen with a plain face, on the throne of England; there were a king with a large jaw and a queen with a fair face, on the throne of France. In both countries it was clearer than crystal to the lords of the State preserves of loaves and fishes, that things in general were settled for ever.

It was the year of Our Lord one thousand seven hundred and seventy-five. Spiritual revelations were conceded to England at that favoured period, as at this. Mrs. Southcott had recently attained her five-and-twentieth blessed birthday, of whom a prophetic private in the Life Guards had heralded the sublime appearance by announcing that arrangements were made for the swallowing up of London and Westminster. Even the Cock-lane ghost had been laid only a round dozen of years, after rapping out its messages, as the spirits of this very year last past (supernaturally deficient in originality) rapped out theirs. Mere messages in the earthly order of events had lately come to the English Crown and People, from a congress of British subjects in America: which, strange to relate, have proved more important to the human race than any communications yet received through any of the chickens of the Cock-lane brood.

France, less favoured on the whole as to matters spiritual than her sister of the shield and trident, rolled with exceeding smoothness down hill, making paper money and spending it. Under the guidance of her Christian pastors, she entertained herself, besides, with such humane achievements as sentencing a youth to have his hands cut off, his tongue torn out with pincers, and his body burned alive, because he had not kneeled down in the rain to do honour to a dirty procession of monks which passed within his view, at a distance of some fifty or sixty yards. It is likely enough that, rooted in the woods of France and Norway, there were growing trees, when that sufferer was put to death, already marked by the Woodman, Fate, to come down and be sawn into boards, to make a certain movable framework with a sack and a knife in it, terrible in history. It is likely enough that in the rough outhouses of some tillers of the heavy lands adjacent to Paris, there were sheltered from the weather that very day, rude carts, bespattered with rustic mire, snuffed about by pigs, and roosted in by poultry, which the Farmer, Death, had already set apart to be his tumbrils of the Revolution. But that Woodman and that Farmer, though they work unceasingly, work silently, and no one heard them as they went about with muffled tread: the rather, forasmuch as to entertain any suspicion that they were awake, was to be atheistical and traitorous.

In England, there was scarcely an amount of order and protection to justify much national boasting. Daring burglaries by armed men, and highway robberies, took place in the capital itself every night; families were publicly cautioned not to go out of town without removing their furniture to upholsterers’ warehouses for security; the highwayman in the dark was a City tradesman in the light, and, being recognised and challenged by his fellow-tradesman whom he stopped in his character of “the Captain,” gallantly shot him through the head and rode away; the mail was waylaid by seven robbers, and the guard shot three dead, and then got shot dead himself by the other four, “in consequence of the failure of his ammunition:” after which the mail was robbed in peace; that magnificent potentate, the Lord Mayor of London, was made to stand and deliver on Turnham Green, by one highwayman, who despoiled the illustrious creature in sight of all his retinue; prisoners in London gaols fought battles with their turnkeys, and the majesty of the law fired blunderbusses in among them, loaded with rounds of shot and ball; thieves snipped off diamond crosses from the necks of noble lords at Court drawing-rooms; musketeers went into St. Giles’s, to search for contraband goods, and the mob fired on the musketeers, and the musketeers fired on the mob, and nobody thought any of these occurrences much out of the common way. In the midst of them, the hangman, ever busy and ever worse than useless, was in constant requisition; now, stringing up long rows of miscellaneous criminals; now, hanging a housebreaker on Saturday who had been taken on Tuesday; now, burning people in the hand at Newgate by the dozen, and now burning pamphlets at the door of Westminster Hall; to-day, taking the life of an atrocious murderer, and to-morrow of a wretched pilferer who had robbed a farmer’s boy of sixpence.

All these things, and a thousand like them, came to pass in and close upon the dear old year one thousand seven hundred and seventy-five. Environed by them, while the Woodman and the Farmer worked unheeded, those two of the large jaws, and those other two of the plain and the fair faces, trod with stir enough, and carried their divine rights with a high hand. Thus did the year one thousand seven hundred and seventy-five conduct their Greatnesses, and myriads of small creatures—the creatures of this chronicle among the rest—along the roads that lay before them.

[fiction-quotes]

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way – in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.

There were a king with a large jaw and a queen with a plain face, on the throne of England; there were a king with a large jaw and a queen with a fair face, on the throne of France. In both countries it was clearer than crystal to the lords of the State preserves of loaves and fishes, that things in general were settled for ever.

It was the year of Our Lord one thousand seven hundred and seventy-five. Spiritual revelations were conceded to England at that favoured period, as at this. Mrs. Southcott had recently attained her five-and-twentieth blessed birthday, of whom a prophetic private in the Life Guards had heralded the sublime appearance by announcing that arrangements were made for the swallowing up of London and Westminster. Even the Cock-lane ghost had been laid only a round dozen of years, after rapping out its messages, as the spirits of this very year last past (supernaturally deficient in originality) rapped out theirs. Mere messages in the earthly order of events had lately come to the English Crown and People, from a congress of British subjects in America: which, strange to relate, have proved more important to the human race than any communications yet received through any of the chickens of the Cock-lane brood.

France, less favoured on the whole as to matters spiritual than her sister of the shield and trident, rolled with exceeding smoothness down hill, making paper money and spending it. Under the guidance of her Christian pastors, she entertained herself, besides, with such humane achievements as sentencing a youth to have his hands cut off, his tongue torn out with pincers, and his body burned alive, because he had not kneeled down in the rain to do honour to a dirty procession of monks which passed within his view, at a distance of some fifty or sixty yards. It is likely enough that, rooted in the woods of France and Norway, there were growing trees, when that sufferer was put to death, already marked by the Woodman, Fate, to come down and be sawn into boards, to make a certain movable framework with a sack and a knife in it, terrible in history. It is likely enough that in the rough outhouses of some tillers of the heavy lands adjacent to Paris, there were sheltered from the weather that very day, rude carts, bespattered with rustic mire, snuffed about by pigs, and roosted in by poultry, which the farmer, Death, had already set apart to be his tumbrils of the Revolution. But that Woodman and that Farmer, though they work unceasingly, work silently, and no one heard them as they went about with muffled tread: the rather, forasmuch as to entertain any suspicion that they were awake, as to be atheistical and traitorous.

In England, there was scarcely an amount of order and protection to justify much national boasting. Daring burglaries by armed men, and highway robberies, took place in the capital itself every night; families were publicly cautioned not to go out of town without removing their furniture to upholsterers' warehouses for security; the highwayman in the dark was a City tradesman in the light, and, being recognised and challenged by his fellow-tradesman whom he stopped in his character of 'the Captain', gallantly shot him through the head and rode away; the mail was waylaid by seven robbers, and the guard shot three dead, and then got shot dead himself by the other four, 'in consequence of the failure of his ammunition:' after which the mail was robbed in peace; that magnificent potentate, the Lord Mayor of London, was made to stand and deliver on Turnham Green, by one highwayman, who despoiled the illustrious creature in sight of all his retinue; prisoners in London gaols fought battles with their turnkeys, and the majesty of the law fired blunderbusses in among them, loaded with rounds of shot and ball; thieves snipped off diamond crosses from the necks of noble lords at Court drawing-rooms; musketeers went into St. Giles's, to search for contraband goods, and the mob fired on the musketeers, and the musketeers fired on the mob, and nobody thought any of these occurrences much out of the common way. In the midst of them, the hangman, ever busy and ever worse than useless, was in constant requisition; now, stringing up long rows of miscellaneous criminals; now, hanging a house-breaker on Saturday who had been taken on Tuesday; now, burning pamphlets at the door of Westminster Hall; to-day, taking the life of an atrocious murderer, and to-morrow of a wretched pilferer who had robbed a farmer's boy of sixpence.

All these things, and a thousand like them, came to pass in and close upon the dear old year one thousand seven hundred and seventy-five. Environed by them, while the Woodman and the Farmer worked unheeded, those two of the large jaws, nad those other two of the plain and the fair faces, trod with stir enough, and carried their divine rights with a high hand. Thus did the year one thousand seven hundred and seventy-five conduct their Greatnesses, and myriads of small creatures – the creatures of this chronicle among the rest – along the roads that lay before them.

  —  A Tale of Two Cities (Charles Dickens)

[usa-news-daily-states]

Denver Tree Solutions: Your Trusted Partner for a Thriving Arborist Service throughout Denver & Nearby Cities

Denver Tree Solutions: your trusted source for professional tree service, Tree Care Service, Tree Removal Service, Lawn Care Service and Landscaping Service in Denver co, Lakewood co, Aurora co, Arvada co, Englewood co, Golden co, Westminster co, Thornton co, and the surrounding areas. Our certified arborists specialize in tree trimming, removal, care, pruning, and stump grinding. With our expertise and commitment to quality, we ensure the health, safety, and beauty of your trees. Contact us today for reliable and efficient tree service solutions tailored to your needs.

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For over 9+ years, Denver Tree Solutions has established a reputation for excellence in tree care, Tree Removal, Tree Trimming & Pruning, Stump Grinding & Removal, Landscaping, Lawn Care. Here's what makes us the top choice for homeowners and businesses in Colorado:

Unmatched Expertise: Our team is comprised of highly skilled and ISA-certified arborists. They possess the in-depth knowledge and experience to diagnose and treat any tree problem effectively, ensuring the health and longevity of your trees.

Comprehensive Tree Care Services: Denver Tree Solutions is your one-stop shop for all your tree care needs. We offer a wide range of services, including:

Tree Trimming and Pruning: Our arborists meticulously prune and trim your trees to promote healthy growth, improve air circulation, and enhance aesthetics.

Tree Removal (Last Resort): If necessary, our team safely and efficiently removes trees that are diseased, damaged, or pose a safety hazard.

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Lawn Care and Landscaping: Our landscape professionals create breathtaking landscapes that complement your healthy trees, enhancing your property's value and curb appeal.

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Safety First: Denver Tree Solutions Your safety and the safety of our team are our top priorities. We utilize state-of-the-art equipment and adhere to strict safety protocols during every project.

Customer Service Excellence: We believe in open communication, transparent pricing, and exceeding your expectations. Our friendly and knowledgeable staff is here to answer your questions and address any concerns you may have.

Denver Tree Solutions Branches Out: Serving a Growing List of Colorado Communities

While our name signifies our Denver roots, Denver Tree Solutions proudly serves a growing number of Colorado communities. Here are some of the areas where we can help you cultivate a healthy and vibrant Tree Service, Tree Care Service, Tree Removal Service, Tree Trimming & pruning Service, Lawn Care, Landscaping:

Denver, CO: We're proud to be Denver's go-to tree care provider, ensuring the health and beauty of the Colorado's trees.

Aurora, CO: From towering oaks to vibrant flowering trees, we offer expert Arborist for Aurora's diverse tree population.

Lakewood, CO: We help Lakewood residents maintain healthy trees and create beautiful, landscaped spaces around their homes and businesses.

Arvada, CO: From routine maintenance to complex tree removal, Denver Tree Solutions provides comprehensive Tree services for Arvada residents.

Englewood, CO: We're dedicated to preserving the beauty and health of Englewood's trees, ensuring a thriving green canopy for the community.

Westminster, CO: Our Westminster tree care specialists offer a full range of services to keep your trees healthy and your property looking its best.

Thornton, CO: We help Thornton residents maintain healthy trees and create stunning landscapes that enhance their properties.

And Nearby Areas! Don't hesitate to contact us if you're located near any of these areas. We're happy to discuss your tree care needs.

Benefits of Partnering with Denver Tree Solutions: A Commitment to Sustainability and Community

When you choose Denver Tree Solutions, you're not just selecting a tree care company; you're partnering with a company dedicated to sustainability and community betterment.

Sustainable Practices: We prioritize eco-friendly practices throughout our operations. We use recycled materials whenever possible, promote water conservation in our irrigation methods, and responsibly dispose of yard waste.

Community Involvement: We actively participate in community events and initiatives that promote environmental stewardship and tree education.

Investing in the Future: We believe healthy trees are essential for a healthy planet. A portion of our proceeds goes towards organizations dedicated to tree planting and urban forestry programs.

Experience the Denver Tree Solutions Difference: Schedule a Free Consultation Today!

Call us today at +1 (720)-704-1817 and or Contact At info@denvertreesolutions.us and Visit Our Official Website: Denver Tree Solutions let us help your Denver trees thrive!

[bigbenblog]

Garden Clearance in Westminster - Big Ben

What is the best tool for clearing overgrown garden?

The best tool for clearing an overgrown garden depends on the size of the area, the types of vegetation, and your personal preferences. Here are some common tools that can be useful for clearing overgrown gardens:

Pruning Shears or Hand Clippers: Ideal for smaller gardens or for selectively removing specific plants or branches.

Loppers: Larger than pruning shears, loppers are useful for cutting thicker branches.

Hedge Trimmers: Electric or manual hedge trimmers can be efficient for cutting back overgrown bushes and hedges.

String Trimmers (Weed Whackers): Useful for cutting down tall grass, weeds, and light brush in larger areas. They come in gas, electric, and battery-powered versions.

Brush Cutter: A more heavy-duty tool designed for cutting through dense vegetation and small trees. It can be handheld or attached to a wheeled machine.

Chainsaw: For larger branches and small trees, a chainsaw can be effective. Ensure proper safety precautions and skills when using a chainsaw.

Machete or Clearing Tool: Good for cutting through dense vegetation and undergrowth.

Garden Gloves: Essential for protecting your hands from thorns, prickly plants, and other hazards.

Rake: To gather cut vegetation and clear the area.

Wheelbarrow or Garden Cart: For transporting cut vegetation and debris.

Before starting, assess the specific needs of your garden and choose the appropriate tools accordingly. Safety gear, such as gloves, sturdy footwear, and eye protection, is crucial when working in an overgrown garden. Additionally, consider having a plan for waste disposal, as clearing overgrown vegetation can generate a significant amount of debris.

[renaissanceclassics]

A Tale of Two Cities - Book 1: Part 1

In 45 parts.

The Period

Book the First—Recalled to Life CHAPTER I. The Period

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way—in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.

There were a king with a large jaw and a queen with a plain face, on the throne of England; there were a king with a large jaw and a queen with a fair face, on the throne of France. In both countries it was clearer than crystal to the lords of the State preserves of loaves and fishes, that things in general were settled for ever.

It was the year of Our Lord one thousand seven hundred and seventy-five. Spiritual revelations were conceded to England at that favoured period, as at this. Mrs. Southcott had recently attained her five-and-twentieth blessed birthday, of whom a prophetic private in the Life Guards had heralded the sublime appearance by announcing that arrangements were made for the swallowing up of London and Westminster. Even the Cock-lane ghost had been laid only a round dozen of years, after rapping out its messages, as the spirits of this very year last past (supernaturally deficient in originality) rapped out theirs. Mere messages in the earthly order of events had lately come to the English Crown and People, from a congress of British subjects in America: which, strange to relate, have proved more important to the human race than any communications yet received through any of the chickens of the Cock-lane brood.

France, less favoured on the whole as to matters spiritual than her sister of the shield and trident, rolled with exceeding smoothness down hill, making paper money and spending it. Under the guidance of her Christian pastors, she entertained herself, besides, with such humane achievements as sentencing a youth to have his hands cut off, his tongue torn out with pincers, and his body burned alive, because he had not kneeled down in the rain to do honour to a dirty procession of monks which passed within his view, at a distance of some fifty or sixty yards. It is likely enough that, rooted in the woods of France and Norway, there were growing trees, when that sufferer was put to death, already marked by the Woodman, Fate, to come down and be sawn into boards, to make a certain movable framework with a sack and a knife in it, terrible in history. It is likely enough that in the rough outhouses of some tillers of the heavy lands adjacent to Paris, there were sheltered from the weather that very day, rude carts, bespattered with rustic mire, snuffed about by pigs, and roosted in by poultry, which the Farmer, Death, had already set apart to be his tumbrils of the Revolution. But that Woodman and that Farmer, though they work unceasingly, work silently, and no one heard them as they went about with muffled tread: the rather, forasmuch as to entertain any suspicion that they were awake, was to be atheistical and traitorous.

In England, there was scarcely an amount of order and protection to justify much national boasting. Daring burglaries by armed men, and highway robberies, took place in the capital itself every night; families were publicly cautioned not to go out of town without removing their furniture to upholsterers’ warehouses for security; the highwayman in the dark was a City tradesman in the light, and, being recognised and challenged by his fellow-tradesman whom he stopped in his character of “the Captain,” gallantly shot him through the head and rode away; the mail was waylaid by seven robbers, and the guard shot three dead, and then got shot dead himself by the other four, “in consequence of the failure of his ammunition:” after which the mail was robbed in peace; that magnificent potentate, the Lord Mayor of London, was made to stand and deliver on Turnham Green, by one highwayman, who despoiled the illustrious creature in sight of all his retinue; prisoners in London gaols fought battles with their turnkeys, and the majesty of the law fired blunderbusses in among them, loaded with rounds of shot and ball; thieves snipped off diamond crosses from the necks of noble lords at Court drawing-rooms; musketeers went into St. Giles’s, to search for contraband goods, and the mob fired on the musketeers, and the musketeers fired on the mob, and nobody thought any of these occurrences much out of the common way. In the midst of them, the hangman, ever busy and ever worse than useless, was in constant requisition; now, stringing up long rows of miscellaneous criminals; now, hanging a housebreaker on Saturday who had been taken on Tuesday; now, burning people in the hand at Newgate by the dozen, and now burning pamphlets at the door of Westminster Hall; to-day, taking the life of an atrocious murderer, and to-morrow of a wretched pilferer who had robbed a farmer’s boy of sixpence.

All these things, and a thousand like them, came to pass in and close upon the dear old year one thousand seven hundred and seventy-five. Environed by them, while the Woodman and the Farmer worked unheeded, those two of the large jaws, and those other two of the plain and the fair faces, trod with stir enough, and carried their divine rights with a high hand. Thus did the year one thousand seven hundred and seventy-five conduct their Greatnesses, and myriads of small creatures—the creatures of this chronicle among the rest—along the roads that lay before them.

CHAPTER II.

[treesevices]

New Westminster BC Tree Service has established itself as a leading provider of comprehensive tree care solutions in the heart of British Columbia. From expert tree pruning to emergency tree removal, the company has been catering to the diverse needs of homeowners, businesses, and local authorities for several years we explore how New Westminster BC Tree Service is transforming landscapes and enabling new developments through their specialized site land clearing.

[peacemore-springs]

Like Westminster had said long ago, it was family trees they had chosen to target. It was entire neighbourhoods that were being used to create the removal process and his tree was one of those targeted for removal. It was a rainy Saturday morning and the wet tear of wet tires from wet road surfaces could be heard beneath the motoring vehicles passing by his front window. Nothing was permanent. He knew this. He had acknowledged this as fact. Not even a murderous paying economy would last. All he had to do was learn to negotiate a kind response. His targeted demise and involvement did not have to be of anger and vengeance.

[colorado-blog-evertime]

Tree Service Denver: Care, Removal, Trimming, Lawn care & Landscaping (Denver & Nearby cities)

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Tree Service Denver: Cultivating Dream Yards Throughout Denver co, Lakewood co, Aurora co, Arvada co, Golden co, Englewood co, Westminster co, Thornton co, and Beyond

Your Denver co, Lakewood co, Aurora co, Arvada co, Golden co, Englewood co, Westminster co, and Thornton co yard is an extension of your living space. It should be a place of relaxation, beauty, and enjoyment. But sometimes, unruly trees, patchy lawns, or overgrown landscapes can take away from that dream. At Denver Tree Solutions, we're passionate about helping Denver co, Lakewood co, Aurora co, Arvada co, Golden co, Englewood co, Westminster co, Thornton co, residents, and those in surrounding communities, cultivate vibrant and functional yards so they can proud of.

Why Choose Denver Tree Solutions? We're Your Yard Care Partners

Local Knowledge, Expert Service: Our team is comprised of Denver-based professionals who understand the unique needs of local trees and lawns. We leverage this expertise to deliver exceptional service that keeps your yard healthy and flourishing year-round.

Comprehensive Solutions: We offer a one-stop shop for all your yard care needs. Whether you require tree removal in Lakewood, lawn care in Arvada, or comprehensive landscaping in Westminster, Denver Tree Solutions has the skills and equipment to tackle any project, big or small.

Unwavering Commitment to Safety: Safety is paramount. We prioritize the safety of our team, your property, and the surrounding environment during every project. Our crews utilize state-of-the-art equipment and adhere to strict safety protocols to ensure a worry-free experience.

Free Consultations & Personalized Plans: We believe in clear communication and collaboration. Our free consultations allow us to assess your yard, understand your vision, and develop a customized plan that aligns with your needs and budget.

Competitive Rates, Exceptional Value: We offer competitive rates for our services without compromising on quality. You can trust Denver Tree Solutions to deliver exceptional value and long-lasting results for your investment.

Guaranteed Satisfaction: Your satisfaction is our top priority. We stand behind the quality of our work and offer a 100% customer satisfaction guarantee. If you're not happy, we'll make it right.

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Majestic trees add character and beauty to any Denver property. However, proper care is essential to ensure their health and safety. Denver Tree Solutions offers a comprehensive suite of tree services Denver designed to keep your trees strong and vibrant, including:

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Tree Trimming: Regular tree trimming is a vital aspect of tree care. Our certified arborists can assess your trees and perform expert trimming to promote healthy growth, remove dead or diseased branches, improve sunlight penetration, and enhance the overall aesthetics of your landscape. Trimming also helps to prevent future hazards by removing weak or overgrown branches that could break during storms.

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Denver Lawn Care and Landscaping: Creating a Yard You Love

A lush, green lawn is the foundation of a beautiful yard. Denver Tree Solutions offers a variety of lawn care services to keep your grass healthy and thriving, including:

Lawn Mowing and Edging: Regular mowing keeps your grass at optimal height, promoting healthy growth and preventing weeds. Our edging services provide a clean, defined border between your lawn and walkways or flower beds.

Aeration and Seeding: Over time, soil can become compacted, hindering water and nutrient penetration. Aeration alleviates compaction, allowing for healthy root growth. We can also overseed bare patches or introduce new grass varieties to enhance your lawn's appearance

Experience the Denver Tree Solutions Difference: Schedule a Free Consultation Today!

Call us today at +1 (720)-704-1817 and or Contact info@denvertreesolutions.us and Visit Our Official Website: Denver Tree Solutions let us help your Denver trees thrive or Learn more About us if you have a question visit our Faq page!

[amyluu1]

Check out the video I made for my good friend Adam!

Adam is honestly one of the best Arborists in the world! My dear friend is a Certified Arborist a Certified Genius and a Professional tree climbing maniac!

I have known and admired Adam for a long time and he is so humble and down to earth that he would never admit to being a genius but I remember along time ago when we were seniors at Alta High.

It was Adam, me and a handful of other close friends we grew up with prepping for Collège and applying to Universities and scholarships together as a group so that we could help each other with applications It was nice setting goals with friends and getting the advice and incite that a true friend may see that we dont.

It is awesome to have friends that are honest straight shooters that love you encourage you and want to support you so that you can develop and grow into the greatness that they know you deserve they encourage and get love and service from you because they are true friends that give you what they see in you including the greatness, love and compassion that is unique to you!

I opened his SAT test results joking that he shouldn't be ashamed of the low score I would discover. It turned out that the joke was on me when I opened the envelope and read the score outload I almost fell over. I remember reading his SAT scores and later I read two other letters that came with Adams test scores I didn't receive any letters with my test scores and no one else that we knew of did either.

The first letter was from MENSA International and explained a little about what the group was its history and how they wanted Adam to be apart of the groups future.

The second letter was way cooler because it was from the Director of the CIA! It was recruitment letter that started congratulating Adam for his high score and his placement with the elite 2% marking him as one of the smartest young minds in the nation by scoring in the upper 98th percentile meaning he scored higher than 98 percent of all test takers and was ranked even higher then most of the smartest 2% of people in the nation. The test results only ranked to the 98th percentile but the CIA discovered he scored better than 99.5% of all test takers and that he almost got every single test question right and only got one or two questions wrong.

Adam was offered a full ride scholarship and was planning on going to Stanford until right before his scheduled moving day he lost both his parents in a plane crash. I was actually helping him pack and we were filling boxes having fun I was snooping through his stuff and making fun of some of his stuff that he had kept from our elementary school days. I was happy and teasing Adam as I thumbed through a photo album his mom had recently made for him. She had paid to have all here old photographs copied and she compiled them in a scrap book photo album that had made it is actually really beautiful and put together nice it includes motivational quotes that are glued letter by letter next to pictures and stories about love family faith and so on. She made it by hand with love for Adam to take to Stanford.

Like I said before I was making jokes and being silly when Adams phone rang and he got the worst news of his life. His Mother and Father were killed when the small plane they were flying in crashed.

Adam never went to Stanford instead he stayed home and attended BYU so he could take care of his younger Sister and younger Brother. He graduated from BYU with Honors with Bachelors Degree in Horticulture. and then decided to get an MBA from Westminster's Gore School of Business.

I have watched in awe as he climbs through trees faster than I ever imaged possible pruning and caring about every single cut made in every single tree that he cares for from the biggest trees to the smallest.

Pruning and tree preservation are his signature services and what he loves to do. He doesn't love tree removals but when he has to remove a tree he can remove it safely and very efficiently!

Did I mention that I love work? Yes I do I can watch it all day long! It is fun and exciting watching skilled Arborists work the professionalism I have witnessed is second to none and just plain amazing.

For example watching Adam as He climbs to the top of huge scary trees then use big ropes, straps, carabiners, pulleys, cranks and other rigging tools to tie off and rope down huge branches, limbs, and gigantic sections of trunk that are over houses decks garages sheds fences you name it and I guarantee its safe from harm when Adam and his Company are the ones called to remove a tree that could cause serious damage and often does if left to unskilled or inexperienced tree cutters that don't or cant rig and rope down tree removals like the pros at Arbor Services!

If you live in Utah or Southern Idaho and you need tree care services connect with Arbor Services through their site below or

Call or Text 801-784-TREE to schedule a FREE No Obligation Estimate and Consultation With one of their Certified Arborists at a time that works best for you!

Your Friend Always,

Amy Luu

Check out my blog and learn more about me and what I do when I'm not creating content for and bragging about my Friends or Family!

Amy Luu

[treeremovalwestminster]

Business name: Little Saigon Tree Service

Address: 8291-8295 Westminster Blvd, Westminster, CA 92683

Business Email: andrea@treeremovalwilmington.com

Phone: 714-276-8372

Description: The Best Tree Removal Westminster CA Has To Offer! Our team of experienced tree removal Westminster professionals can handle any size project. We can tackle anything from tree trimming to stump removal; we have the skills and experience to do it all. Removing dead trees is an important step to maintaining a healthy and safe landscaping environment. Not only are we the top tree removal service, we guarantee to be on time, courteous, and professional! Removing a tree or grinding a stump has never been easier. Call the tree removal Westminster CA specialists that locals depend on to get the job done!

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[imagineclaireandjamie]

Will there be any more Chain of Command or are you done writing it?

Chain of Command: Part 17:

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 || Part 8 || Part 9 || Part 10 || Part 11 || Part 12 || Part 13 || Part 14 || Part 15 || Part 16

It was just before dusk as Jamie pulled Donas to a stop. Lallybroch seemed as if it were getting closer but as the light started to fade, Claire sensed a rising fatigue in Jamie’s pose. Kissing him quickly between his shoulder blades, she dismounted and took Fergus from his arms.

“There’s bread and dried meat in the saddlebags, you get those out and get something inside you and I’ll find us some wood for a fire.”

“Is there anything ye didna think of, Claire?” He asked quietly as if he didn’t expect an answer. Taking the food, he perched, letting his back rest against a nearby tree. He let the nearly-fresh bread sit on his tongue for longer than he usually would, allowing the taste of it to fill his mouth.

“Better?” She asked, reappearing from beyond the trees with various bric-a-brac stuck to her hair and skirts.

He chuckled at the sight of her, her curls all tangled and falling from where she’d attempted to tie them out of her face. She’d always been adverse to wearing a cap, despite the occasional glances from others in their household, one of the signifiers of her fierce independence. With wood and kindling poking from between one arm, her son slung tightly off her free hip and the slight pinking colouring her cheeks, he fell in love with her all over again.

“Aye,” he whispered softly, “much thank ye.”

Passing Fergus deftly across to him, Jamie watched Claire settle to her business. They hadn’t been separated for long but he felt as if he hadn’t looked at her properly for years. Her hips swayed delicately as she prepared the kindling on an already charred piece of land, her fingers lithely shifting the small pieces of dry wood until they sat effectively on top of one another.

“He probably needs changing,” turning her head, she caught him in the act of staring at her, “why don’t you take him to the stream, you can wash up whilst I finish up here?”

Though he knew he wasn’t in the best state, he hadn’t thought about cleaning himself since leaving the garrison.

“There’s soap, it’s wrapped in a little leather sash.”

He gave her a look, one that communicated that she’d definitely thought of absolutely everything before coming to his rescue, and it made her smile shyly.

“Your mam,” she responded, “she came after me and passed over a lot of it. I was worried, at first, that she’d chased after me to convince me to ride back to Lallybroch but when she pulled up, she was just delivering some items she thought I’d need.”

Pulling the soap from its wrapper, he chuckled at the idea of her rushing away from the big house without even a shawl to keep her warm. His heart missed at beat as he passed by her, his free hand brushing over the top of her head as they touched briefly.

Down by the small stream, he removed the filthy clout from Fergus and began washing it, his son cradled against his chest. Enjoying the simple pleasure of bathing them both, he removed his clothes and sat himself in the cool water. He watched as the dirt and filth flowed away from him, the water turning from clear to brown and back to clear again in a matter of minutes. Immediately he felt at ease, and though the sun was setting and the air was causing the skin on his arms to prickle, he sat for as long as he could, letting the flow cleanse him.

“Do you need me to wash your hair for you?”

The voice startled him, but he smiled as he turned to catch Claire sliding down the bank towards him.

“The fire is ready when you are, but I was worried that you might have disintegrated since you’ve been so long.”

“I feel as if I’ve never had a wash, it was good to feel clean again.”

Taking the soap from where Jamie had placed it on a hollow rock, she rubbed it over her dampened hands letting it sud and bubble between her fingers before putting it back down and running it through his hair.

It wasn’t long before she had both Jamie and Fergus wrapped up in clean tartan and sat by the roasting fire. The crackle of the wood kept them company, filing the forest with sound as they leaned quietly against one another. With their bellies full and warmth flowing around them, Claire lay her head on Jamie’s shoulder, her eyes opening and closing slowly.

“I’ve waited for this for weeks.” She whispered, her hand coming to rest across his exposed knee. “I sat on the steps at Lallybroch and begged for you to appear at the end of the road just to have you close to us again.”

He hadn’t been incarcerated for an incredibly long time, but from the moment he’d been taken, his thoughts had been solely of Claire. “I wish I hadna been gone at all.” Sighing, he turned a little, enough that he could lean slightly and kiss her forehead. “But ye were the only thing that got me through. I didna sleep. They gave me hardly anything to eat and the sounds that echoed through that horrid place sent shivers down my spine, but the knowledge that ye waited for me gave me hope. Ye kept me alive and sane in there.”

“I wanted to kill your uncle for setting you up, I still might.” She whispered, the anguish clear in her tone.

“Trust me, mo nighean, he isna worth it.”

“If I have to go all the way to Westminster to protect you, Jamie, I will. God help me I will. I’ll ride there by myself if I have to. I don’t relish the thought of having to sacrifice any member of your family, but he will not take you from me. Do you hear me?”

She was quiet but passionate, a spark roaring into an enormous flame at the mere idea of having to protect her family from harm.

Placing Fergus on the mossy ground by his side, he made sure he was bundled from the cold and far enough from the fire that he’d remain safe and warm, Jamie turned and took Claire’s face in his hands. Cradling her heated cheeks, he let his nose rest softly against hers as the two breathed the same air for just a moment.

Their lips met as if drawn together, slow at first, the gentle caress of their tongues making Claire gasp as she straddled his waist.

“Oh, lass…”

Rolling her hips once, she pushed him back, making sure he was comfortable before removing the tartan covering his lap. With no more need for words, she tugged the laces from her bodice, slipping the fabric from her shoulders as she pressed forwards once more. As the fire burned steadily on, Claire and Jamie locked lips once more, their soft sighs mingling with the evening sounds surrounding them.

– — –

With the sun rising, the steady glow of it heating them as they climbed the final hill, Jamie buried his face against Claire’s neck, watching calmly as the big house finally came into view.

“Home,” he sighed against her, causing her hair to ruffle slightly as he spoke, “a beautiful sight if I say so myself.”

The ruffling of the curtains made them both aware of the family moving around down below - though they were still too far away to be seen. Driving Donas onwards they both breathed a sigh of relief. Holding on tightly to one another, they made the last part of the journey in complete silence, letting the morning tweet of the birds guide them forwards.

[scotianostra]

  On 1st January 1651 the coronation of Charles II took place at Scone.

After the execution of his father, Charles I by the English Parliament in January 1649, Prince Charles was proclaimed King of Scotland in Edinburgh—on condition that he would sign the Covenant and undertake to enforce a Presbyterian religious settlement in England. Moderate English Royalists were opposed to an alliance with the Covenanters, but Charles' appeals to other European heads of state for military help against the new republican government of England came to nothing.

After the defeat of the Marquis of Ormond's army in Ireland, the possibility of a Scottish army appeared to be Charles' only hope for regaining the English throne. In May 1650, he signed the Treaty of Breda in which he agreed to the Covenanters' terms, abandoned the loyal Marquis of Montrose and rejected Ormond's treaty with the Irish. Charles landed in Scotland in June 1650. Meanwhile, an English army commanded by Cromwell invaded Scotland and defeated the Scots at the battle of Dunbar. 

Covenanters on the ruling Committee of Estates blamed the defeat on the lack of religious commitment shown by Charles and his followers. They demanded the removal of all former Engagers and "ungodly" Cavaliers from the army and from Charles' closest aides.

Charles attempted to overthrow the Covenanters in October 1650. The plot, known as "The Start", failed through Charles' last-minute indecision, but it helped to weaken the power of the Kirk Party on the Committee of Estates in favour of the Royalists and Engagers. Charles was crowned King of Scots at Scone on 1 January 1651.

With Cromwell's army tightening its grip on Scotland, Charles decided to lead his Scots-Royalist army into England. He marched from Scotland on 31 July 1651 but the expected uprising of English Royalists failed to materialise. Cromwell followed him south and gathered an overwhelming concentration of forces at Worcester, where Charles was decisively defeated on 3rd September 1651.  It seems an army led by religious zealots didn't get the help from god they expected. 

Charles' escape through England after the battle of Worcester became legendary. He evaded capture for six weeks, travelling in disguise, helped by loyal subjects and at one point hiding from Roundhead soldiers in the famous oak tree at Boscobel. He finally got away to France in mid-October. It would be 9 years before he returned, and 10 before he was crowned by the English at Westminster.

The first pic is Charles II statue tucked away behind St Giles, on Parliament Square, Edinburgh.