At the head of Trevelver Castle's magnificent Grand Staircase, Jeremy felt the weight of impatient anticipation as he awaited Sylvia's arrival. Memories of their first fateful encounter in the library of the Trevelvers' Chelsea townhouse came flooding back – the moment he had first glimpsed the devastatingly beautiful fourteen-year-old ingénue, a tempestuous storm of emotion swirling through his heart.

Sylvia's eyes, limpid pools of pure innocence, contained latent passion in their fathomless depths. They reflected the rich, dark brown of earth—a warm embrace that held both mystery and tenderness. Whispered secrets borne on the wind seemed to dance within their shimmering depths, dreams spun of infinite stardust. When she turned her gaze towards the far horizon, she did not perceive boundaries, but endless, thrilling possibilities. Her gaze held both wonder and longing – a compass eternally seeking new, distant shores.

Her voice rang out like a lilting melody, carrying hope's fragile song like a bird winging its way through sun-dappled meadows, weaving spellbinding tales of love and deep yearning. When she spoke, it was as if delicate petals fell from her lips to scatter poetry across the earth. Sylvia's words cradled the ethereal promise of radiant sunrises and whispered secrets – a language the heart alone could truly comprehend.

Within the porcelain vessel of her breast beat a fragile yet resilient heart. Love bloomed there, as delicate as petals kissed by the morning dew, yet she loved fiercely, unafraid of heartbreak's sting. For Sylvia believed in the alchemical magic of love's transformative power. Her heart was a secret garden, tended by pale moonlight, where dreams took root and blossomed into brilliant, transcendent life.

Sylvia pirouetted through her life as if dancing, her skirts catching stray moonbeams. Her laughter rang out like a cascade of silver bells echoing through hushed, hidden gardens. She twirled amidst the shadows, her steps spinning her ever onward towards an unseen destiny. Each footfall left an ephemeral imprint upon the path of pure wonder and delight, a shimmering testament to the vibrancy of her spirit. As she danced, she wove a magic that lingered like a sweet fragrance in the air long after she had whirled away.

Her story unfolded like an intricate tapestry woven of moonlight and stardust. Upon arriving in the cosmopolitan heart of 'Swinging London', Sylvia encountered rogues and poets, princes and paupers alike. Each new chapter revealed both her extraordinary inner strength – the resilient bloom persisting through any trial – and her transcendent fragility, the petal too soon fallen. Sylvia was something far greater than a mere young woman; she was a constellation entire, no, Jeremy reflected, an ever-shifting celestial map of constellations innumerable, guiding all who looked upon her towards their own true north star.

And it was this radiant vision of Sylvia that Jeremy carried with him – the ingénue who had danced away leaving indelible footprints etched upon his very soul, the woman whose whispers first sparked in him dreams of love and infinite possibility. She was the living canvas upon which he had become utterly determined to paint the brushstrokes of his own story – a tale woven of longing, fleeting glances, and the invisible cosmic threads which bound their two lives together across the unknowable dimensions of fate.

Hi All,

Seems we're all in the same gang 

I put away a set of Woodland Scenic welders with all their gear along with an arc welder light effect.

I found the light effect this afternoon but no sign of the welders. Seems like they've either buggered off for a better paid job or fallen into that black hole 

Never mind .... I have just ordered a new set from the Isle of Wight, so I expect I'll find the originals tucked away in a drawer later on 

All best wishes

Kevin

 

Don't worry. I've got a missing DC controller, got the power pack and the track connection leads, just no controller. I have turned the house upside down but no joy anywhere.
If anyone sees it, can you send it home please!

Cheers
Mark

Quote from: D9020 Nimbus on May 23, 2024, 05:28:00 PMIIRC Dapol had great difficulty obtaining the information to produce the OO class 21/29 so they are the only viable manufacturer. They will know how the sales of the class 22 in N compared with the OO equivalent and how the sales of the OO 21/29 compared with the sales of the OO 22, so are in a good position to know whether such a model would be viable (or not).

The class 29 was particularly associated with the West Highland line in the period 1968-72. This period (BR blue pre-TOPS) is one which is largely ignored by the manufacturers, except for classes such as Claytons and diesel hydraulics which never received TOPS numbers.

They also ran Glasgow to Dundee/Aberdeen sometimes double-headed depending on tonnage being hauled.

GE

Giles vividly remembered their first encounter at the agency. Eli's doe-like eyes sparked an unexpected vulnerability within him. As their gazes locked, her youthful beauty and vibrant innocence ignited a fire he thought long extinguished. But it was not just her eyes that captivated him. Eli's attire, carefully chosen for the season, added to her allure. She wore a delicate, floral-print sundress that clung to her curves, the fabric swaying gently with each step. The soft hues of pink and green complemented her auburn hair, and a thin pale pink cardigan draped over her shoulders provided a touch of modesty. A pair of white ballet flats completed the ensemble, their dainty bows echoing the innocence in her gaze. What could this vivacious young woman possibly see in an aging soul like himself?

Eli's shy smile seemed to melt the frosty reserve Giles had accumulated over the years, warmth seeping back into his calloused heart. Her handshake was delicate yet firm, those slender fingers momentarily engulfed by his rough palm—its scars a physical reminder of all the years he had spent in the Army, Royal Marines, and SAS, the fierce battles he had fought, the harsh roads he had travelled. But it was not merely her tender grasp that captivated him; it was the way her blue eyes shone with the same passionate fire that had once burned so brightly within himself.

Eli, in turn, was well aware of Giles' reputation for curating the finest selections of wines and spirits from around the globe. His name was whispered with reverence in certain circles—a testament to his discerning taste and unwavering commitment to quality. It was this shared reverence for their crafts that drew them together: two experts in their respective fields, bound by a common pursuit of excellence.

Giles had initially been sceptical when Jeremy praised Sylvie's and her partner Eli's fledgling agency. But as Eli met his gaze with expressive cornflower eyes, he sensed a reverence for the stories behind each bottle—an understanding that true artistry extended beyond the wine itself, woven into the histories and narratives steeped within.

With each word Giles spoke, vibrant memories flooded back—sun-drenched vineyards, the perfumed air thick with the intoxicating sweetness of grape harvests. Eli absorbed it all, her youthful enthusiasm complementing his seasoned experience in an inexplicable way. Despite the years stretching between them like an aching chasm, a spark of kinship ignited.

Giles pondered whether he had missed out on such moments in his youth. Had he been more outgoing, less guarded, would he have noticed a woman like Eli sooner? Her presence stirred questions about the roads not taken, unravelling his tightly wound heart like an ancient scroll. Eli was the unexpected chapter he had not foreseen—a chance encounter that allowed him to rewrite at least one fragment of his life story.

But could he risk opening himself up again? His guarded heart had been pieced back together too many times. Could he trust this radiant soul not to scorch him with her brightness? Eli's laughter, reminding him of carefree summers of his past, drew him in. He longed to protect her from life's storms.

Tortured thoughts swirled like a tempest, yet he recognised the profound connection sparking between them. In that moment, Giles knew he had found a kindred spirit—one who understood him in ways most could not. Eli's artistry could finally bring to life the stories his cherished bottles held, waiting lifetimes to share.

Perhaps if they continued professionally, Giles and Eli could allow their relationship to blossom during regular client meetings. With Sylvie's steadying presence as the copywriter, perhaps—just perhaps—Giles could risk opening up once more to an unanticipated chance of something rare and beautiful.

My version of the Oakbank tank; it's in the James Street thread;




It's not quite right; the bogies are a little inboard to allow for coupling throw on corners, and there's one too  many anchor plates (for strength when building it).

Drawing and photo in 'Oil on the rails' by Alan Copping.

Martyn

IIRC Dapol had great difficulty obtaining the information to produce the OO class 21/29 so they are the only viable manufacturer. They will know how the sales of the class 22 in N compared with the OO equivalent and how the sales of the OO 21/29 compared with the sales of the OO 22, so are in a good position to know whether such a model would be viable (or not).

The class 29 was particularly associated with the West Highland line in the period 1968-72. This period (BR blue pre-TOPS) is one which is largely ignored by the manufacturers, except for classes such as Claytons and diesel hydraulics which never received TOPS numbers.

Are this:

Quote from: Carmont on May 01, 2024, 08:28:31 PMOakbank Oil Co./BP 40 Ton bogie tank wagon

and this:
https://flic.kr/p/RFLGUE

the same thing?

Jim

Now selling on eBay as "coventrrailworks" (note no "y"). He has his alumina hopper conversion kit available, and a sheet of decals for same.

Jim

Eli's voice trembled as she asked: "What if these celestial gifts grant me an unfair advantage?" Her azure eyes sought answers in Lady Penelope's wise countenance. Grappling with her celestial quandary, Eli yearned for balance—to share life's journey with Giles as equals. Yet, she wondered, did these celestial powers tip the scales too heavily in her favour?

Lady Penelope, her voice a gentle breeze, replied, "Dearest Elayne, the cosmos weaves its tapestry, and we are but threads. Advantage or destiny—it matters not. Love seeks its own way."

"These celestial powers", Lady Penelope's voice held the weight of constellations, "manifest not as hollow trickery, but to ignite your quintessential being. You were destined for this path—to pursue and seduce, releasing your inner fire."

Eli, her spirit like a fledgling bird, felt the noblewoman's words lap against her soul. They flowed like inexorable tides, reassuring and determined. Yet, a final flicker of hesitation danced across her delicately sculpted brow.

"Beloved Elayne", Lady Penelope's voice carried the weight of ancient prophecies. "Have you so little self-awareness that you cannot perceive your radiance? It already shines—starborn and breathtaking. These celestial icons merely unlock what awaits to blossom within you. They are windows, not arcane artifices—uncovering and empowering your very being, passionate and transcendent."

A ghost of the Mona Lisa's timeless smile played about Lady Penelope's full lips as she concluded with a hushed tone, "Giles's love is already yours to claim, my radiant daughter. These powers merely strengthen your final steps to join him in that eternal stardance—an equal partner in love's infinite majesty."

As Lady Penelope drew back, arching one shapely brow in silent inquiry, Eli gazed down at the 'Codex Astralis' with new eyes. No longer did the stellar cartographies of Orion, Cassiopeia, and the fearsome Draco seem like mere icons of unattainable, manipulative power. Now they blazed forth as invocations of all that she was—conduits through which to finally unveil the blazing truth of her spirit and step forth into the grandly choreographed passion play of true love.

"Then it is time I took up this dance in earnest, my lady," Eli's voice resonated with clarity. With these powers as my first starmapped aids, I shall pursue and capture my beloved's heart entire!"

Emerging from the hushed chamber of lore and celestial mystery, Eli now carried within her heart a transcendent portion of the night sky's wisdom. Her destiny, doubts, and deepest yearnings were inexorably bound to the cosmic forces that had ignited creation's first dawn.

Thereafter, the constellations guided her once faltering but now surefooted steps toward the inescapable collision of the grand choreographies of love and fate.