Quote from: Papyrus on Today at 01:58:01 PMGutted. 

Just gutted.     

The first time since God was a boy that the Aurora Borealis has been visible in deepest Sussex AND WE MISSED IT!! Mrs P and I have never seen it and Friday night would have been our best chance but we were tucked up in bed as usual. It wasn't till the next morning when a neighbour started sharing photos of the event that we realised what we had missed. We stayed up last night but of course nothing happened. The sun is very active at the moment so we hope the chance comes again, but we're not holding our breath.

Bother, bother, bother.

Not 'appy.

Not 'appy at all.

Chris

Your not the only one. I work the night shift and was outside all night in Gloucestershire. I even went looking for it. Didn't see a thing.
I was already having a bad night because of a computer glitch at work, I missed a career changing opportunity.
They say bad comes in three. That's two, just waiting for the third one now.

Rob.

Thanks Alan


Loco involved 50026

https://www.bournemouthecho.co.uk/news/24314444.locomotive-partially-derails-corfe-castle-swanage-railway/


https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/articles/cn40l2579qqo.amp

https://metro.co.uk/2024/05/12/vintage-train-derails-passengers-onboard-summer-festival-20823549/


https://www.railadvent.co.uk/2024/05/investigation-underway-after-locomotive-derails-at-heritage-railway.html


This service will be unaffected . Hopefully more information soon

https://www.aol.co.uk/news/investigation-locomotive-derails-heritage-railway-125113598.html

well, that toothpaste can be slippery   

Quote from: Newportnobby on Today at 03:03:42 PM@Papyrus
Same situation with me. Evidently great displays over Lancashire Friday which I missed but last night's potential repeat just didn't happen

It just means you're both most likely to be running the world when the Triffids attack.
(won't be me, I managed to get photos of it in the south of Spain it was so big a storm)

@Papyrus
Same situation with me. Evidently great displays over Lancashire Friday which I missed but last night's potential repeat just didn't happen

As the snow continues to fall outside Trevelver Castle, casting a serene and peaceful atmosphere, Sylvia's living room is a haven of warmth and tranquillity. The well-upholstered burgundy-coloured leather armchairs add a touch of elegance and comfort, their rich material reflecting the soft glow from the blazing fireplace. They are perfect for sinking into with a good book or a warm drink.

In the heart of the room, the fireplace casts dancing shadows and fills the room with a comforting scent, adding to the room's cosy ambience. The cherry logs glow warmly, their sweet, woody aroma mingling with a subtle hint of lavender to create a welcoming ambience. Above the fireplace, the tambour-style clock stands on the mantelpiece, its rhythmic ticking and soft chimes blending with the crackling of the fire, resonating softly in the quiet space.

To the side of the room, a grand mahogany bookshelf stands tall, filled with an array of books, their spines showcasing a rainbow of colours. Some are well-worn classics, their pages yellowed with age, while others are newer additions, their spines uncreased. Each book is a testament to Sylvia's diverse interests and intellectual pursuits.

Near the window, a writing desk sits, its surface polished to a shine. On it, a sleek fountain pen and a notepad rest, ready for Sylvia's thoughts and ideas. The desk is a silent witness to Sylvia's reflections and dreams, a place where she pens down her musings and aspirations.

A large, ornate mirror hangs on one wall, its gilded frame reflecting the room's warmth and elegance. The mirror not only adds depth to the room but also reflects the flickering firelight, creating a mesmerising play of light and shadow. The room is adorned with tasteful art pieces, each carefully selected to enhance the room's aesthetic. A beautiful landscape painting hangs above the fireplace, its vibrant hues echoing the natural beauty outside the Castle.

Every element in the room, from the comfortable armchairs to the ticking clock, contributes to a sense of harmony and tranquillity. It is a space that invites relaxation and introspection, a perfect retreat from the world outside. Despite the falling snow and the winter chill, Sylvia's room is a haven of warmth, comfort, and timeless elegance. The world outside may be blanketed in snow, but inside, the gentle chime of the clock, the cosy armchairs, and the blazing fireplace bring a sense of calm and order, a reminder of the steady passage of time.

In the tranquillity of her surroundings, Sylvia's thoughts wander unspoken. She finds herself pondering over the series of events that brought Jeremy and her together. She imagines her mother in her cosy, oak-panelled study, perhaps seeking guidance from the stars. She pictures her father, his gaze unwavering, approving as her parents peruse a confidential file. This file holds a flawless photographic portrait, a work of Norman Parkinson, the same English portrait and fashion photographer who had captured her own image on her fourteenth birthday in the Castle grounds.

She recalls how her mother had chosen Parkinson for his unique talent in merging fashion with nature and infusing his work with humour. She remembers the attire chosen for her portrait, a creation by Christian Dior, renowned for his revolutionary 'New Look' that accentuated the feminine silhouette.

Time seems to stand still. Sylvia's thoughts drift further, perhaps to the ancient queen-priestesses, their voices eternally resonating within her, guiding her towards love, towards the ultimate journey when two become one. Could it be that these voices, this guidance, had somehow led her to Jeremy, to love?

I've got man flu 

Gutted. 

Just gutted.     

The first time since God was a boy that the Aurora Borealis has been visible in deepest Sussex AND WE MISSED IT!! Mrs P and I have never seen it and Friday night would have been our best chance but we were tucked up in bed as usual. It wasn't till the next morning when a neighbour started sharing photos of the event that we realised what we had missed. We stayed up last night but of course nothing happened. The sun is very active at the moment so we hope the chance comes again, but we're not holding our breath.

Bother, bother, bother.

Not 'appy.

Not 'appy at all.

Chris

Revolution Trains Class 59/1 59101 [RT-N59-HM-101]

"And Sylvia's destiny?" asked Jeremy, leaning forward, his sea-green eyes bright.

Lord Trevelver leaned back as he carefully considered his reply. "To protect a unique legacy of power and knowledge. To honour the matrilinear line. To wield her gifts wisely and well."

"And mine?"

"To love her", Lord Trevelver said, "unconditionally. To be the lighthouse that guides her through tempests to safe harbour."

The room seemed to blur around him. Atlantis, a mystical lineage, and magical abilities—it felt like a tale spun from storybooks.

Sylvia, the girl whose photographs he had admired but had yet to meet, held secrets beyond imagination. Jeremy wondered if he was dreaming.

Questions surged. What kind of abilities? How did they manifest? Could Sylvia control them?

Jeremy's naval training had prepared him for storms at sea, but this—this was uncharted territory.

Her father's words echoed: "You are the anchor". Jeremy understood. Sylvia's awakening, her powers—they depended on him.

Duty had always been his compass. Now, it extended beyond naval charts to Sylvia's heart.

Sylvia's sixteenth birthday—the surge of her abilities—in two years' time. What if he faltered? What if he could not ground her, protect her?

Jeremy's palms dampened. Love was not just about shared sunsets, drawn-out kisses, and whispered confidences; it was about safeguarding magic itself.

Trevelver Castle, ancient and enigmatic, beckoned. Jeremy envisioned Sylvia within those walls, her deep brown eyes alight with hidden knowledge.

He longed to explore her visions, to unravel the threads of fate alongside her.

Sylvia's destiny was intertwined with his. Jeremy vowed to be her lighthouse, guiding her through tempests to calmer waters.

Lasting love, he realised, was more than a sailor's longing—it was the compass that would steer them both.

And so, amidst the oak-panelled walls of 'The Rag', and the resonance of ancient inheritance, Jeremy embraced his role—the protector. Sylvia Trevelver—the vessel of magic, the keeper of secrets—awaited him. Their destinies entwined, they would navigate together the complexities of love, legacy, and the very fabric of existence.