Ladies of Aintree 2024
Discussion
nigelpugh7 said:
It’s that time of year again guys.
Dare I start another thread about the wonderful sights at Aintree?
Daily Telegraph: Men behaving badly on Ladies Day at Aintree - for all its faults, the Telegraph still gives some excellent sports coverage.Dare I start another thread about the wonderful sights at Aintree?
I also like the approach the photographer has taken with this action shot...
...the rather tight depth of focus really bringing the subject's emotion into play, and some nice foreground as well as background bokeh, which you don't often see.
eharding said:
nigelpugh7 said:
It’s that time of year again guys.
Dare I start another thread about the wonderful sights at Aintree?
Daily Telegraph: Men behaving badly on Ladies Day at Aintree - for all its faults, the Telegraph still gives some excellent sports coverage.Dare I start another thread about the wonderful sights at Aintree?
I also like the approach the photographer has taken with this action shot...
...the rather tight depth of focus really bringing the subject's emotion into play, and some nice foreground as well as background bokeh, which you don't often see.
You see!
This is us, this is our church.
There will be mirth here.
There are sounds of mirth in the night-air ringing,
And lamps from every casement shown;
While voices blithe within are singing,
That seem to say "Come," in every tone.
Ah! once how light, in Life's young season,
My heart had leap'd at that sweet lay;
Nor paused to ask of greybeard Reason
Should I the syren call obey.
And, see -- the lamps still livelier glitter,
The syren lips more fondly sound;
No, seek, ye nymphs, some victim fitter
To sink in your rosy bondage bound.
Shall a bard,whom not the world in arms,
Could bend to tyranny's rude countroul,
Thus quail, at sight of woman's charms,
And yield to a smile his freeborn soul?
Thus sung the sage, while, slyly stealing,
The nymphs their fetters around him cast,
And -- their laughing eyes, the while, concealing --
Led Freedom's Bard their slave at last.
For the Poet's heart, still prone to loving,
Was like that rock of the Druid race,
Which the gentlest touch at once set moving,
But all earth's power couldn't cast from its base.
This is us, this is our church.
There will be mirth here.
There are sounds of mirth in the night-air ringing,
And lamps from every casement shown;
While voices blithe within are singing,
That seem to say "Come," in every tone.
Ah! once how light, in Life's young season,
My heart had leap'd at that sweet lay;
Nor paused to ask of greybeard Reason
Should I the syren call obey.
And, see -- the lamps still livelier glitter,
The syren lips more fondly sound;
No, seek, ye nymphs, some victim fitter
To sink in your rosy bondage bound.
Shall a bard,whom not the world in arms,
Could bend to tyranny's rude countroul,
Thus quail, at sight of woman's charms,
And yield to a smile his freeborn soul?
Thus sung the sage, while, slyly stealing,
The nymphs their fetters around him cast,
And -- their laughing eyes, the while, concealing --
Led Freedom's Bard their slave at last.
For the Poet's heart, still prone to loving,
Was like that rock of the Druid race,
Which the gentlest touch at once set moving,
But all earth's power couldn't cast from its base.
Athlon said:
eharding said:
Looks like a 1953 Krupp compact travel sugar spoon, but that's for a different thread. Deffo a Krupp user though.
Look again, that has all the tell tale marks of a '54.Gassing Station | The Lounge | Top of Page | What's New | My Stuff