Quote from: dannyboy on May 27, 2024, 06:10:56 PMOenophile was a new one on me - you learn something new every day! 

A term which Giles no doubt informed Eli of as she would not have known it otherwise (English being her third language after Breton and French). 8-)

Oenophile was a new one on me - you learn something new every day! 

Quote from: JBQFC on May 13, 2024, 07:17:52 PMI have just started a TPM 442 kit i have had for years i was sure i had got transfers for it but could not find them so i order some new ones guess what the new ones arrive I open a draw to put them away to see the missing set looking at me I looked in that draw twice oh well i have spares if i muck the job up

Last year we spent weeks looking for my passport. We emptied cupboards and draws, searched through bags, cases and pockets. In the end we gave up and I went through all the hassle and cost of getting a new passport.

A couple of weeks later, we found the old one, which was right at the front, in plain view, of the bottle cupboard - where we had each searched, multiple times, as we often keep documents and letters in there.

There is no way that we each missed it multiple times, having gone through documents that were stored in there, individually and more than once - yet the passport was found right at the front, in plain view. We have had this happen with multiple things and are convinced that we have poltergeist moving things around.

[Things calm down, soon!]

The fiery tango ended with Giles dipping Eli in an embrace that stole the last of her breath from her overheated body. As the last notes hung heavy with unfulfilled longing, she felt overwhelmed by the intensity.

"Perhaps a short break for refreshment?" Giles's voice was low as he helped Eli regain her balance, his touch gentle but assured.

Eli managed a breathless laugh as smiling couples danced and crystal glasses clinked around them. "A short rest would be very welcome."

She followed him to the nearest elegant side table, trying to calm her racing pulse amid the tempting spread of snacks and wines. Knowing his tastes well, she steadied her hand and carefully poured two glasses of the 1962 "Chateau Suduiraut", a crisp and dry Sauternes from France. With a grin, she handed one to Giles before he could again take the lead. Its golden hue sparkled in the soft lamplight, and with each sip, they tasted the essence of a vintage year—a glowing moment suspended in time, much like their dancing together.

The crisp notes of the chilled French white wine perfectly complemented the hot and cold hors d'oeuvres arrayed on silver trays before them. Eli sipped, studying her companion over the rim. "Your dancing skills are most impressive. How did you attain such mastery?"

Something shuttered behind Giles's eyes before his roguish smile returned. "A long tale spanning many years. But for you..." He exhaled. "I'll recount what I can."

Giles' expression sobered momentarily before that roguish smile returned. "My time at a rather uninspiring English public school included compulsory dance lessons, though I'll admit I didn't take to it with much enthusiasm in those days."

His voice carried Eli into a world of schoolboy anecdotes – humorous, nostalgic, sometimes laced with regret. She absorbed each nuance: the mischievous gleam animating his features at a comedic aside, the subtle jaw-tightening when recounting loss.

A rueful chuckle. "My true passion bloomed under... softer influences, shall we say?"

Just when she thought she grasped this enigma, another fascinating layer revealed itself. Like a masterful artist, each meticulously chosen detail added depth and mystery. The fireplace's dancing light painted his visage in a roguish chiaroscuro, amplifying her determination to solve his mystery.

For Eli, Giles performed an intricate dance of revelations—one designed to captivate, always leaving her yearning for the final unveiling just out of reach. Just as her brushstrokes chased beauty's truth, he parried with tantalising shadows and light.

Who was he, truly? The daring military man? The skilful negotiator? The maverick oenophile? The consummate dancer? With each enticing facet divulged, her fascination bloomed anew.

oo err, I am getting a bit of a sweat on. 

Eli's heart pounded as she moved with Giles across the floor, his firm embrace leading her in in a sensual tango. Here was a man who lived life daringly. His movements transcended those of a mere partner; each smouldering move controlled yet with an undercurrent of restrained passion. Where had he acquired such tantalising skills? Waltzing intimately with elegant countesses? Twirling heiresses breathless against the shadows of their vineyards? Or perhaps darker, clandestine soirées with masked, mysterious women devoted to the most exquisite physical pleasures?

The soaring stone arches and twinkling garlands of the Great Hall seemed to amplify the energy between them. Giles's hand burned through the thin fabric at her waist, the fireplace's glow dancing along his firm fingers. As they moved in unison, she drank in the sharp angles of his face and the intense smoulder in his clear eyes. Who had taught him to lead with such spellbinding confidence? The question throbbed hotly in her veins.

"You move like a whisper of sin", she breathed, dizzy with wanting amidst the spiced aromas of mulled wine. "As if you've tangoed among the fallen angels themselves."

His rumbling chuckle caressed her skin with gooseflesh. "Perhaps". He held her heated gaze, the massive Christmas tree's multi-coloured lights glinting in his eyes. "But tonight, the temptations before this roaring hearth outshine any fallen celestial beauty."

A tremor of desire arced through her core. Had he spoken such bold words to those other women? Ladies with laughter on reddened lips and daring invitations in their hooded eyes? Had he ever danced with another who stroked a canvas with lusty colours—or was she his first overwhelmingly intoxicating muse?

The mystic clutch pulsed with celestial energy against her side, whispering of fevered love and shattering heartbreak, forbidden dances on hedonistic, moon-kissed nights and desperate, clawing embraces among noble vines. Could Giles sense its aphrodisiac powers thrumming through her blood amid the Castle's age-old magic?

"Tell me, Giles", she whispered throatily over the crescendo of music. "Have you held beautiful temptation like the one before you?"

A wicked grin carved across his tantalising lips. "Beautiful, yes. But none with the spellbinding allure of you, my captivating artist."

His words burned through her, stoking the ache blossoming between her thighs, the hall's massive fireplace seeming to blaze hotter. She longed to ask more—to tease out the lurid details of his past from that sinfully teasing mouth. Those nights when unbridled passions burned bright like bonfires beneath a low-hanging silver moon. But the tango propelled them onwards in a rapturous spiral of soaring desire.

As the notes faded, Giles dipped her, their bodies straining deliriously together. "Some dances entice into oblivion's sweet embrace." His lips grazed her neck's feverish pulse. "Like this one."

Surrounded by the ballroom's twirling dancers echoing centuries of passions held within these granite walls, Eli surrendered to the intoxicating truth—this enigmatic man was the ultimate temptation to whom she would soon eagerly yield, one quickening step at a time until delicious final release.

Amidst the heat of that moment, their shared passion ignited—transformed into something transcendent kindling the smouldering magic between them. It promised untold delights to come. Whatever rapturous frontiers lay ahead, they would conquer and savour them as true masters of uninhibited desire.

The potent alchemy of Giles's intense mastery over Eli's body mirrored her own deft strokes across his soul's aching canvas. With each heated breath, each searing caress, each fiery gaze, they conveyed promises of the pleasures awaiting them. Passion's deepest mysteries were about to be fully revealed.

Their bodies swirled in a dance that defied gravity, each step nearer to sensual culmination. The vertigo of lust wrapped around them like silken ribbons, pulling them closer—inevitable as the incoming tide. Euphoria awaited, just beyond the horizon, promising intense release. The tango, no mere dance, was a mesmerising prelude—an invitation to surrender to the passions coursing through them like a fever.

As the dance culminated, Giles pulled Eli nearer until only a sliver of charged air remained between them. "Thank you, my dear, for making an old soul feel invigorated by life's possibilities once more." His words hung in the scented space between them, filling it with the promise of new depths to explore—both within themselves and the lives they would reimagine together through fresh, reinvigorated eyes.

In that moment, their dance became a passage across unexplored territory. Each measured step took them into a place of ever-closer connection, where wistful glances held entire almanacs of emotion. The music, the candlelight, the glittering ornaments, the scented air... it all conspired to weave their two paths into one shimmering, invisible, ever-tightening thread.

Giles pulled Eli nearer until they moved as one across the parquet floors. He marvelled at how her lithe frame and radiant spirit seemed to rekindle every long-forsaken dream he had abandoned with the tragedies of the passing years. Perhaps, just perhaps, opening himself to this miraculous young woman would be a lasting dream realised.

As they glided across the ballroom floor, Giles admired the way Eli imbued every movement with artistry and intention. Her lithe frame and graceful poise were those of a painter waltzing her brushstrokes across a canvas. In Eli's expressive blue eyes, Giles saw entire worlds awash with colour and passion-filled meaning. Those cerulean pools shone with the clarity of a visionary—whether sketching designs for her flourishing ad agency or capturing scenes in oils.

"Eli... you move with such effortless elegance", he murmured, drawing her subtly closer. "As if the entire ballroom is your personal studio."

Eli blushed, her cheeks taking on the delicate blush of rose petals. "Merely doing my best to match the amazing ambience. This castle, your company... it's all infused with such incredible history, I mean Atlantis, Queen-Priestesses, and romance, such romance! As if it's daring me to capture its stories through my artistic skills."

"Then perhaps that's the secret venture you and Sylvie should tackle next", Giles replied with a wry smile. "A campaign to bottle the magic of Trevelver Castle at Christmas and set it free to transform the world beyond."

They shared a conspiratorial glance, co-creators united in appreciating beauty in its myriad forms—be it the terroir of a fine vintage or the drama of chiaroscuro on a canvas. Giles knew his wines held histories ripe for the uncorking. Eli's artistic spirit seemed to possess an innate ability to plumb their depths and present them in eye-catching visual form. If only the prevailing male conservatism of the times did not prevent their chances of winning a prize at the Cannes International Advertising Festival! What a coup for two young women that would have been!

As the dance drew them seamlessly together, Giles felt the undercurrents of creative union flowing between them. United by a reverence for crafting lasting masterpieces, they had both found an unlikely muse. One that awakened the dreamers inside them. Their dance became more than steps—it became a symphony of shared aspirations, a canvas where love and art intertwined.

Despite the effortless elegance with which Eli painted and crafted designs, she could not quell the flutters in her stomach as she and Giles took their steps around the crowded dance floor. In London, the professional dance tutor Sylvia had arranged for the 'Karadow' could only instil poise to a certain extent without implicit trust in their partner—even if he was merely leading her in a formal dance.

As the soft strains of the orchestra on the stage filled the richly scented air, Eli fought the instinct to glance down, fearful of stumbling over her gown's sumptuous tail. She had faced down stressful pitches and looming deadlines at the agency without flinching. But this romantic ballet across the wooden floor made her such experiences feel like mere rehearsals for the terrors of real life.

Sensing her trepidation, Giles gave Eli's hand a reassuring squeeze. "You carry yourself like one of your beautiful paintings gracing these very walls", he murmured. "Allow the moment to be your muse, Eli. Feel the flow in your soul."

His soothing words unlocked something inside the beautiful Breton. Of course – this was simply another blank canvas awaiting her creative touch. The nerves fled as Eli envisioned herself as the brushstrokes, gliding across the floor with vibrant but controlled spontaneity.

Tilting her face, she met Giles' gaze with renewed confidence, that artistic spark he so admired flickering back to brilliant life. "Just as your favourite vineyards yield unique elegance in each bottle, so too shall we two create something memorable tonight, Giles", she promised, quickening his pulse.

As they surrendered to the swell of the music, Eli stopped overthinking each movement. Instead, she transformed the dance into an improvisational artwork, one evolving stroke at a time. Her stunning body swayed with a skilled painter's intuitive precision, every single step and flourish no longer painstakingly planned.

Stepping into the Great Hall's enchanting atmosphere, Giles felt the ageless magic of Trevelver Castle permeating his being. This was no ordinary night of celebration; it was an opportunity to unearth mysteries and find solace in Eli's conflicted but compassionate eyes. The majestic hall, with its twinkling lights and festive decorations, welcomed them with murmurs of gathered guests and strains of music—a warm embrace that enveloped them in anticipation of a truly special night.

Eli's heart fluttered as she stole a glance at Giles. His pale eyes shone with an intensity that hinted at depths she longed to explore. Moonlight rippled across the finest spun silk, beckoning them toward a shimmering destiny. In that moment, they were not just guests at a ball; they were explorers of their own hearts, ready to waltz into the unknown.

"This feels like a dream", Eli whispered, "As if we've stepped into the pages of a storybook."

Giles squeezed her hand, his touch electric. "Then let's never wake up."

An unlikely pair—the worldly-wise ex-soldier turned wine dealer and the idealistic young artist. Yet something profound had blossomed between them, an affinity that transcended well-worn paths. As they stepped onto the parquet floor, the orchestra's notes swirled around them, weaving a melody that echoed the cosmos. Giles pulled Eli close, her body moulding to his as they moved in perfect synchronicity.

With each turn, each caress of hand on waist, their connection deepened. Eli sensed a kindred longing in Giles' eyes, a desire to cast off uncertainty and forge new possibilities together. The castle's ancient stones seemed to hum with shared histories as if recognising the awakening between these two passionate souls.

Had these walls witnessed other lovers twirling in this ageless dance, their whispered promises and stolen kisses echoing through the centuries? Eli imagined the stones absorbing each breathless sigh, each heated embrace, as if the very castle was a custodian of love stories etched into the fabric of time.

The music swelled, and they surrendered to its delicate spell. They were no longer simple dancers but celestial beings waltzing on the edge of eternity. United by a passion for life's richest emotions, the striking couple moved as one against the backdrop of ancient family history.

I have always done Radio Control flight as well as "N", t'other half reckons I don't crash enough. A shed, a garage, two bedrooms and most of a loft later proves this.

Inheriting stuff from two deceased flying buddies didn't help.

"N" having been mainly on the back burner for a decade I start on "the last great N project", but where are my controllers?  In the loft is what I recall.  Can I find them?

    

OK. Now my box of scrap metal has vanished. I don't need it often but that's no excuse for it to slope off in a huff. I did find a missing book I had put on the wrong shelf, though.

Cheers ,

Chris