Did someone mention dictionarys?

Quote from: dannyboy on Today at 10:56:29 AMIf a word is misspelled in a dictionary, how will we know?

I believe an print run of Collins dictionary had to be recalled in the1970s because the word gullible had been spelt with three letters l.

His gaze drifted to Amanda. "Though I was under the impression the captivating Miss Morgan was overjoyed enough by young Tolverne's unexpected arrival earlier not to need the amplifying powers of a mystical clutch." Jeremy smiled knowingly. "When Andy disembarked with Giles from the helicopter carrying emergency supplies and Miss Silverwood, Amanda could scarcely contain her delight at being reunited with her beloved. They make a dazzlingly romantic pair, to my eye at least – her adventurous spirit complemented by his steadfast strength."

Twenty-two-year-old Amanda certainly lived up to her reputation as the adventurous 'Chelsea Girl' with a taste for excitement. The fitted emerald gown hugged her athletic curves, while the daring thigh-high slit allowed tantalising glimpses of toned legs with every stride. Her auburn locks were styled in an artfully dishevelled updo, a few wispy tendrils framing her delicate features and complementing the smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose and high cheekbones. Amanda's striking green eyes sparkled with youthful curiosity and a hint of mischief, perfectly embodying her spirited persona.

At her side walked the imposing figure of Andy Tolverne, the thirty-five-year-old ex-Royal Marine and SAS medic now a key member of Giles Roskrow's elite covert operations team. In stark contrast to Amanda's vivacious energy, Andy's presence was undeniably commanding, amplified by his economy of movement and taciturn intensity. While not as physically large as some of his elite soldier brethren, he exuded a lethally focused presence.

Tolverne's evening attire—a superbly tailored black tuxedo cut to accommodate his lean, sinewy physique—further projected an aura of controlled power. The close-cropped chestnut hair and strong jawline alone already made him a striking figure, but it was the flinty, all-observant quality in his hazel eyes that truly revealed the depths of a man who had stared down death's inevitability on countless missions.

As a trained medical doctor, those hands possessed a dual purpose beyond their rugged exterior. While they were skilled at disassembling firearms with precision, they also held the power to heal. In his gentle grasp, one cradled Amanda's hand, silently acknowledging their feelings. These same hands, once instruments of war, now offered tender care and protection, embodying both strength and compassion.

As the contrasting couple traversed the ornate halls of Trevelver Castle, more than a few admiring glances tracked their passage. Here were two individuals who, in markedly different ways, seemed to outwardly embody the simultaneous ideals of beauty and resilience, refinement and primal capability. An unmistakable, breathtaking symbiosis.

"Exactly!" Sylvia's exclamation caused a few surrounding heads to turn, though she seemed not to notice. "Don't you see, Jeremy? Why should rapture's sparks be limited to just one couple on such a celestially aligned night as this? The cosmic energies of the clutches swirl about us all. With the proper catalysing influences..." Her gaze drifted dreamily skyward for a moment, eyes alight with possibilities. "The transcendent awakenings could be limitless."

Her conspiratorial tone dropped once more as she refocused on Jeremy. "Which is why Amanda's interest in the 'Lune d'Argent' intrigues me so. One can't help but wonder what otherworldly enchantments that celestial talisman might unleash when intertwined with the other cosmic forces at play tonight." Sylvia's smile harboured both an excited thrill and the serenity of one intimately attuned to the unseen mystical currents flowing around them.

Leaning back in his chair, Jeremy regarded his passionate companion with a look of fond amusement, though he knew better than to argue against her mystical insights. Some things were best experienced firsthand – especially when Sylvia's powers were involved.

If only David hadn't started this thread...........................

If a word is misspelled in a dictionary, how will we know?

I don't know where I read it, and it was a very long time ago, but I'm sure that a piece I've seen said that the injector was originally designed (by Giffard) to refill boilers on a proposed airship!

But that could be a faulty memory......

I don't know if John will cover it, but injectors replaced mechanical pumps, powered usually from an axle or from the valve motion,, which forced water into the boiler. This meant that on occasion, a loco had to be moved just to operate the pump and refill a low boiler. In a terminus this could cause problems, and again, I'm sure I've read in the long distant past that this could mean placing the loco against the buffer stops, applying copious oil to the track, and running at slow speed....

Martyn

A Coarse Guide to the Steam Locomotive for 'N' Gauge Modellers - Part 13


Hello Chums

We have seen a side view of a locomotive's boiler, photographed in the rain at Haverthwaite.  If we nip round the SuperScenic Cumbrian coast far a while we arrive in Ravenglass and, in the Ravenglass & Eskdale Railway's fine new museum, we meet a cutie called Katie.





See what I mean?

Shimmying round we can see the part of her boiler that concerns the enginemen for most of the time.





The firehole door, through which, when opened, the fuel is shovelled onto the fire can be see.  As can these jolly important items, the gauge glasses, which show how much water there is in the boiler.  As a recent reconstruction, Katie has two of these. Please note they have 'zebra stripes' - this was an LNER idea and is pure dead brilliant as they say in a city to the west of here.  Prior to this clever wheeze, an empty gauge glass could be mistaken for a full one with potentially explosive consequences.  Literally.  When viewed through water, the stripes change direction¹, greatly reducing the likelihood of a potentially fatal misreading of the water level in the boiler.

If we move up to a bigger scale – no, we aren't going '00' – we can see the arrangement on a standard gauge locomotive.  In this case, London & North Western Railway 'Precendent' 2-4-0 No. 790 Hardwicke.





She has only one gauge glass – she will also have try-cocks, which later fell out of favour with British railways when two gauge glasses became the norm².  Apart, of course, from on the Great Western.

Her firedoor is bigger than the one we saw on Katie and the two prominent pipes and valve wheels on the faceplate [backhead for GWR people] are for the injectors.  Important things, injectors.  They force cold water into the boiler against the pressure of the steam.  Jolly clever, that.  All done by steam pressure and cones.  Not the seaside sort - they are made, carefully, from metal.

**

¹  Just in case Percy Pedant is about to tell me off, the stripes don't actually change direction, they just appear to do so.

² This took a while.  Here is the incomparable David L Smith writing about the new LMS '3F' 0-6-0T shunting engines which the LMS allocated to the Glasgow & South Western section from October 1924:

'They were truly terrible.  The first thing that caught the eye was the lever reverse; we had had power reverse on our engines since 1875.  There was only one gauge glass; we had had duplicate glasses since 1879.'

 
'N' Gauge is Such Fun!

Many thanks for looking and all best wishes.

Pip-pip

John

Trevelver Castle's cavernous Great Hall glowed with reflected lamplight, swirling couples, and joie de vivre. Laughter and the soft swell of music intermingled with the clinking of crystal stemware and the rich aromas of the delicious feast laid before the beautifully dressed guests.

Sylvia and Jeremy sat together at one of the side tables near the lavish buffet trestles lining the Great Hall. Sylvia, resplendent in her crimson gown, deftly speared a succulent mushroom cap from her plate, her dark eyes sparkling with mischief over the rim of her raised wineglass.

"Tell me, my dear Jeremy, how much do you believe in the old ways? The ancient rituals and unseen celestial influences?" Her tone held a conspiratorial lilt that hinted at secrets he had been privy to for a decade now.

Jeremy paused, arching one quizzical brow as he regarded his effervescent companion. Sylvia's creative inspirations were one of the many traits he found so utterly captivating about her – though he knew her light-hearted charm belied profound mystical abilities.
"I'm a man of logic and reason, you know that. But..." He grinned warmly. "I'm also wise enough to keep an open mind where you're concerned, my love. After all, a beautiful enchantress deserves the benefit of the doubt." His sea-green eyes danced with shared knowledge of the cosmic forces she could channel.

A delighted laugh escaped Sylvia's lips as she playfully swatted his arm. "An enchantress, am I? It's dangerous to utter such fanciful notions around me tonight." Yet her smile acknowledged the truth they both understood.

Her fingers drifted almost reverently to the "Étoile Brillante" clutch at her side, tracing the twinkling stars adorning its sterling surface. "This evening's celestial alignments are quite... propitious, you see, Jeremy. Fated events have been set in motion, with energies swirling around us, awaiting only the catalyst to ignite their transcendent possibilities."

She held his gaze meaningfully, allowing the cosmic currents thrumming through her bloodline to shimmer briefly in her big eyes—a silent reassurance that whatever magic the night unleashed, he would forever remain part of her innermost circle of trust.

Plucking up a bite of the hearty game pie they were sharing, Jeremy chewed slowly and considerately before replying. "You speak in delicious riddles, my dear. But I shan't protest if tonight's 'propitious alignments' already seem to please you."

His warm gaze drifted meaningfully towards where Eli and Giles danced amidst the other couples. "I'd wager our dearest friends may well encounter some manner of... transformative revelation before the night has fully swept them up and away."

"Oh, there is that", Sylvia agreed with a private smile. "Though I harbour ambitions that tonight's awakenings may extend even further than our beloved Eli and Giles."

She leaned in conspiratorially, her voice lowering. "Tell me, what do you recall of the third celestial clutch, the 'Lune d'Argent' that Amanda Morgan had hoped to borrow this evening? Forged by the brilliant Mademoiselle Élise, its ethereal design was said to have been inspired by moonlight dancing across Versailles' enchanted gardens."

Jeremy's expression grew contemplative as he took another sip of wine, recalling Sylvia's accounts of her visit with Eli to the enigmatic artisan's otherworldly atelier. "Ah yes, you regaled me with tales of Mademoiselle Élise's miraculous creations. Spun from strands of pure moonlight, you said?" He nodded respectfully. "Her talents clearly extend far beyond mere craft."

Across the dance floor, their dear friends Jeremy and Sylvia traded knowing glances, recognising all too well the unmistakable electricity crackling between Eli and Giles on the dance floor. Sylvia's lips curved in a soft, conspiratorial smile as she perceived the scorching intensity of Eli's studious yet smouldering gaze upon her partner. Jeremy could only shake his head in wry amusement at his sophisticated, worldly-wise friend so thoroughly ensnared by the beautiful young painter's sapphire eyes and the promise of intimacies yet to be.

The ball's attentive hosts, Lord Charles and the ever-perceptive Lady Penelope Trevelver, observed the couple's charged interactions with hopeful interest. If the pair's smouldering body language was any indication, this delicately orchestrated pairing showed profound promise of blossoming into something profoundly transformative for both souls – an artistic muse awakening undeniable passion. With a meaningful look towards her husband, Penelope allowed herself a satisfied smile. Some things, it seemed, could be even more breathtaking than the historic beauty surrounding them.

Not far away, Sylvia's equally perceptive godparents were also taking careful note of the romantic tensions. The unmarried Lady Isadora Hawthorne, Lord Trevelver's younger sister, traded an amused, knowing glance with the Trevelvers' longtime friend Sir George Widgeon III as they watched the heated scenes unfold. Though once rumoured to have been lovers themselves, Isadora and George now enjoyed an easy camaraderie, seamlessly finishing each other's thoughts over glasses of fine wine.

"Just like old times, hmm?" Isadora murmured, her gaze drifting between the enraptured couples. "That frisson, that delicious tension..."

George chuckled, raising his glass with an affectionate gleam in his eye as he regarded his dear friend. "The grandest loves do tend to begin with such a spark." Even now, he knew better than anyone the depths of feeling Isadora could inspire.

As Isadora's painted lips curved in a reminiscent smile, she leaned in conspiratorially, their shoulders brushing in a familiar, comfortable way. "Care to wager on which pair out there will succumb first to passion's flames?" Her tone was teasing yet harboured a kernel of wistful nostalgia for the wildfires of their youth.

George matched her smile, forever bound to this woman by a love as enduring as it was unconfined by societal restraints. "With stakes that high, my dear, you know I cannot resist."

His fingers brushed hers briefly, a wordless reassurance that regardless of the other intimacies in their lives, theirs was a partnership that transcended mere dalliance.

Though Giles remained outwardly impassive under Eli's intense scrutiny, he recognised her fierce artistic intensity all too well – and the undercurrent of sensual longing behind it. He had often watched her at work in the cosy sanctuary of her East London studio, sunlight filtering through the tall windows to cast kaleidoscopic shadows across her lithe form as she moved with feline grace. He knew every nuance of her creative urgency – the furrowed brow, the intense focus flickering behind those emerald depths, the gentle caress of her brushes upon canvas.

To have that penetrating perception turned upon himself, undressing him with her eyes, was alternately disquieting and thrilling. Eli's insistent stare seemed to pierce far beyond his physical form, slowly stripping away each carefully created layer he maintained as protection and enticement. As if she could already envision the unveiled truths her paints would immortalise on canvas. The very thought sparked a shiver of exquisite vulnerability through Giles' core, simultaneously rattling and emboldening him. He was eager to be rendered entirely bare before this enigmatic artist's sapphire scrutiny – exposed, studied, savoured, understood. And perhaps, at last, truly known in ways he had never allowed before.

Theres something brilliant about watching the trains go by like this 

Definitely something to keep posting!!