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A/N: I apologize for the title, which is pretty irrelevant. Still, "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" does have the lines "let nothing you dismay" and "with true love and brotherhood/ Each other now embrace", which ties in well enough with Bossuet being the POV character.
It was far too cold, Bossuet had no plans for Christmas or New Year's (his vague plans to dine with one or more of the aunts or uncles who occasionally sent him money or asked for his limited legal advice had, as usually, completely fallen through), and he had no success in finding lodgings of his own. Not only was he broke, but rent had gone up for the winter, and Bossuet was not inclined to spend more than he could afford on a stoveless garret where he could freeze to death and inconvenience strangers (as opposed to inconveniencing his friends), with his balding, frozen corpse. Bossuet thought a moment, decided against thinking any further, shrugged on his tattered tailcoat (his overcoat was in hock again) and went off to go see Courfeyrac.
"Ah, my poor eagle, buffeted by the wild winds of fortune?" Courfeyrac asked, opening the door at Bossuet's knock. "You look dreadful. What happened to your hat?"
"The wild winds of fortune attempted to steal it," replied Bossuet, trying to knock the dent out of the crown. "Then a carriage ran over it."
"I would offer you one of mine, but I'm down to my last hat and I have to go to a really endless round of parties where my aunt Mathilde will go on two hour long rants about how much shame I bring upon the family name, and the only way to get through one of those alive is to be impeccably dressed. One must hold one's top hat before one so that the blows glance off instead of lodging themselves in your Robespierre waistcoat." Courfeyrac was, at that moment, impeccably dressed in a pair of spotless white breeches, a double-breasted black tailcoat, a green waistcoat that matched his eyes, with a second, fawn-colored waistcoat under it to make the green look yet more vivid, a cravat so perfectly arranged it would make Beau Brummel bite his lips in impotent rage at being unable to recreate such a work of art, and, to top it all, a sprig of holly in his button-hole.
"Going to visit your mistress?" asked Bossuet, giving up on his hat.
Courfeyrac took Bossuet's hat and brushed it off as best he could. "Ah, dear eagle, your eyes are not as sharp as they should be. I dressed to visit a girl I would like to make my mistress. If she had been my mistress, my cravat would not be the perfectly pinned down specimen you see before you; it would have flown off in the whirlwind of passion. As is, she holds me off with cruel persistence and will not take it upon herself to derange curls just begging to be deranged." Courfeyrac shook his head, his curls, carefully parted to the side, with several falling Romantically over his forehead, swinging back and forth. "I suppose it is all for the best; I had to take tea with my great-aunt Marie-Therese just after that, and I doubt my own artistic powers in recreating such a masterpiece as this cravat."
"How long did you spend tying it?" asked Bossuet, whose own cravat was already unravelling from its knot.
Courfeyrac coughed and busied himself trying to knock the dent out of Bossuet's top hat. "You cannot rush genius, you know."
"A lesser mortal cannot possibly comprehend how you manage to pass an entire morning getting dressed," said Bossuet. "You are to congratulated, Courfeyrac."
"On the finished product, yes, I know," said Courfeyrac, with an impish smile. "Perhaps one of those new frock coats would have made more of an impression on my little boot-maker, but great-aunt Marie-Therese can never say no to a good tailcoat and I exceeded my allowance on Christmas presents again this year. Speaking of presents—"
Courfeyrac pulled a sheet off of his bed to reveal a very messy collection of packages wrapped in brown paper and tied with a great deal of string. "I believe yours is… somewhere. I may have forgotten to label them."
"You attire your presents as deftly as you dress yourself," said Bossuet, being glib just to keep from showing how touched he was. "That knot there would not be out of place in Bond Street."
"See? There are more applications to a thorough knowledge of men's fashion than one would previously expect." Courfeyrac began sorting through the lumps of brown paper and string without any very clear idea of how to identify their contents and eventually unearthed a smaller package than the rest. "Ah ha, here it is! I saw it in a shop and immediately thought of you!"
"I hesitate to strip something you have taken such pains to dress," said Bossuet.
"Meaning that you cannot untie the strings?" asked Courfeyrac, rather wryly. "Say no more, I mangle corset strings often enough that I know anything thinner than a cravat that is not a bootlace will end up in a horrible muddle. There ought to be a pair of scissors… somewhere."
Bossuet unearthed them from underneath a dilapidated gothic romance and cut the strings. A dented pocket watch fell out of the paper and into Bossuet's hand. Bossuet did not need to open it to see the various misspellings of his last name scratched out on the inside of the cover. "You found my grandfather's pocket watch," he said, a little stupidly.
Courfeyrac grinned. "Yes. Luck smiles upon me when it seldom does upon you, poor fellow. I discovered that we use the same watchmaker."
"You sent me to that watchmaker," replied Bossuet. "You sold your pocket watch to him last semester when you lost that bet to Dumoriez over whether or not you could steal a policeman's hat and lost. And nearly went to prison."
Courfeyrac waved off this detail as unimportant. "Yes, but this literally had your name on it. You like it?"
Bossuet could not quite find the words. Though Courfeyrac was usually the one to initiate embraces (and seldom needed any justification for them), Bossuet had the urge to fling his arms around Courfeyrac's neck. He instead managed a garbled phrase of something that might have sounded like French to someone who had never spoken French before.
Courfeyrac slung an arm around Bossuet's shoulders and squeezed him close. "Thought you'd like it. Well, do you have any engagements this evening? My boot-maker tends to haunt the Cafe Musain, she's close friends with one of the waitresses there, and I very much wish to get in one last visit before familial obligations take over my evenings."
"No, I have no plans what-so-ever," said Bossuet, still staring at his pocket watch. "Courfeyrac, my dear fellow—you did not... there was no need to do this—"
"Which is precisely why I did it," replied Courfeyrac, with a positively dazzling smile. "Since great-aunt Marie-Therese cannot keep her hand from moving to her purse strings once said hand has been kissed by a Romantic like myself, I am even capable of overemphasizing my point by buying you a drink or two. By the by, Bossuet old fellow, would you allow me to loan you a new cravat?" He pulled at one frayed end of Bossuet's cravat, and the strip of muslin gave up the fight and slid to the ground. "I cannot promise I can tie yours as well as I have tied mine, but at least you will no longer look homeless."
"The correct phrase is 'bohemian'," replied Bossuet, putting the watch into the battered pocket of this tailcoat. "Eagles do very poorly in captivity. We far prefer the open air."
"Meaning you are sleeping in Joly's armchair again," said Courfeyrac, pulling a cravat out from the wad of fabric spilling out of a drawer and draping it around Bossuet's neck. "I rather like Joly. Charmingly eccentric fellow, extremely sweet under it all, surprisingly dedicated to his ideals. He's an odd and likeable person who has already discovered the efficacious treatment of laughter against any ills. You found a treasure, my dear boy. If you have worn out his patience, which I doubt, considering how good-natured you both are and how well the two of you get on, I would be happy to pull a mattress off my bed for you. Although... hm, no I think you may trust our jolly Joly to always keep a perch for you."
"Thank you, but I am sleeping on the chaise-longue belonging to another friend of mine, Bahorel. Have you met him? He studies the law the way we do." This not only meant, 'he skips class with as much frequency' but, as Bossuet used the word 'droit', which could also be translated as 'Right', it meant that he shared their republican sympathies.
Courfeyrac grinned, but did not look up from the intricate process of cravat-tying. "I should be delighted to make his acquaintance. Oh, I have been meaning to introduce you to Enjolras."
"The blond in our Monday lecture. Chin up, please?"
Bossuet obeyed. "There are a good number of blonds in our Monday lecture, and I do not attend said lecture often enough to remember them all."
"No, no, the blond," said Courfeyrac. "You can spot his hair halfway across the Luxembourg."
"Oh, that one," Bossuet said, glancing to the right, where Courfeyrac had a mirror on the wall. Bossuet eyed his reflection with amusement. Though the cravat was certainly shaping up to be a masterpiece, Bossuet looked horribly shabby. It was particularly noticeable against Courfeyrac, in all his sartorial splendour. Bousset tried to bring himself to care and only missed having his overcoat, since it was going to be a very cold winter.
What was slightly more annoying was that, in contrast to Courfeyrac's perfectly tousled curls, Bossuet's hairline had retreated another half-inch and his bald spot was starting to become obvious. Bossuet briefly envied Enjolras but decided that he would rather not have his hair be his defining characteristic. "Does he study the law as we do?"
"Oh, he exceeds us," said Courfeyrac. "It's his passion. I go to the same fencing master as the fellow and he trounces me every time, so I invited him out for a drink afterwards one particularly brutal bout and... my God, to hear the man speak on his ideals is to see his soul illuminating the world. Or at least your café table. I mean, very reserved fellow, didn't quite know how to handle me at first, but get us both onto politics and we're as fast friends as Nisus and Euryalus. Hold onto that, would you?" Courfeyrac stuck a pin into the knot and eyed Bossuet with fond exasperation. "And you insist on wearing that old tailcoat?"
"I am very fond of this old tailcoat, as you so ungraciously call it," replied Bossuet. "We are always in each others' company and we have yet to grow tired of one another. It is the Claire to my Julie."
"Then let an old overcoat of mine that can still sort-of pass as fashionable be the Saint-Preux," said Courfeyrac, shaking his head. "I don't know why you won't take it. I mean, I wouldn't wear it again, and thanks to my dear, ex-mistress Madeline's enthusiasm, half the buttons are missing, but it does well enough keeping out the elements. You are one of the first friends I made when I arrived in Paris, and certainly the dearest, but really, Bossuet. If your smile didn't make up for your wardrobe, I would be ashamed to be seen with you."
"Ah, but my wardrobe is a service to your good self," said Bossuet. "You look like Beau Brummel next to me. We might as well have a Romantic friendship- the opposition of two contraries walking arm in arm."
"Ha, like I could tear you away from Joly these days," replied Courfeyrac, somehow or other managing to shove Bossuet into the old overcoat anyways. It was slightly too big, but no matter; Bossuet had no gloves and the long sleeves would keep his hands warm. "Shall we be off then? I want your opinion on my bootmaker and... oh, hello, who is that?"
Someone had knocked on the door, and, as soon as Courfeyrac opened it, Joly burst in, with a whirl of overcoats and scarves and a characteristically energetic and slightly hysterical monologue about his health. "I am terribly ill. I think it's influenza. All the bad air bringing in the snowstorms, and, oh, have you ever seen such snow? I am sure it has soaked through my overcoat and has dampened all my layers- I shall be chilled and it shall settle in my lungs and turn my cough pneumatic, I swear, and worst of all, I shall probably give it to Bossuet, because his chest has to be weakened from all the times he goes running about without an overcoat. I would give him one of mine if it would actually fit him, but, alas, his shoulders are far too broad. Oh, speaking of that, I'm all finished now, but do you think the bed—"
"As you can see," Courfeyrac interrupted hastily, grabbing the snow-dampened coats and mufflers Joly was flinging off, "I forced Bossuet into one of mine, if only so that I do not have to see that travesty of a tailcoat ever again."
Joly looked momentarily abashed, but Bossuet's smile won an answering one from Joly. "Oh, hallo Bossuet! You look quite dashing. Off to visit the Paris relations?"
"No, none of them are permanent residents," said Bossuet. "We eagles are sadly provincial."
"Provincial—oh, that reminds me, Courfeyrac, I have your Christmas present somewhere." Joly began searching his pockets. As he was wearing about five layers of clothing, however, he had quite a few pockets. "Er...."
"Take your time," said Courfeyrac, rummaging around on the bed. "I don't know which one is yours either. Let's see... ah, this one's for Enjolras. Hm. I've seen him at the Café Musain. He might be there. Joly, do you know Enjolras? He's friends with that Polytechnician-turned-medical student you always have a drink with on Wednesdays."
"Oh yes, before my dissections," said Joly, still busily digging through his pockets. "I suppose you are talking of Combeferre's blond friend. Looks rather like that statue of Saint-Michel in the fountain by the Latin Quarter and doesn't really say much, right? Ah ha, here it is." Joly pulled out a tin tied with red ribbon. "I had to search half the city for them."
Courfeyrac chose one of the packages on the bed, apparently at random, and the two exchanged presents. Joly was delighted to find a dry muffler with a matching waistcoat Courfeyrac had bought for himself and never worn, and Courfeyrac was beside himself to discover the tin was full of calissons.
"Calissons! Ah, Joly, you are a treasure! I was just telling Bossuet that you are beyond rubies, etc., not that he has ever failed to acknowledge your shining worth, and here you are, providing evidence. Calissons! In Paris!" He enthusiastically kissed Joly on the cheeks and then sat down to eat more calissons in one sitting than was entirely good for him. "But, to return to Enjolras, yes, that's certainly him. Joly, my dear fellow, I see you are more terrified of finals than I had previously imagined."
Bossuet turned to look. Joly had knocked off his hat while trying to search his pockets, revealing that his hair now rose two or three inches above his head.
"My now ex-mistress thought it would be fun to curl my hair before I sat for my exams," said Joly, with uncharacteristic glumness. "I objected. In the ensuing struggle, this somehow happened and now my professor of clinical surgery thinks that I really do experiment too much with electro-magnetism and I got a re-telling of Frankenstein as soon as he saw me. Apparently he has a tendre for Mary Shelley. He once wrote her a letter and got a reply from Percy Shelley, asking him to please never try to write to Mrs. Shelley again, as it gave her nightmares."
"What the hell did he send her?" asked Courfeyrac, though a mouthful of masticated calissons.
"I'm not sure I want to know," said Joly. "I got the story from a professor in the pathology department, who said my surgery professor's contributions to the general hormonal fug in their boarding school had been keeping a box of half-dissected wildlife under his bed."
"What is it about medicine that attracts all those who ought to be the care of moral alientists?" asked Courfeyrac. "What medicine you know has only served to make you sick, and last night your friend Combeferre, finally giving in, came with me and Enjolras to get a drink and then proceeded to monologue about the stages of bodily decay. Clever fellow, and I know you think the world of him, Joly, but...."
"Combeferre is just interested in everything," Joly said diplomatically.
"Including Ways to Put Courfeyrac Off His Food," replied Courfeyrac.
"Maybe he wanted whatever pastry you were eating," said Bossuet.
"I am not always eating pastries," Courfeyrac declared indignantly, albeit somewhat unintelligibly, as he was still eating calissons.
"No, sometimes someone else takes them," agreed Bossuet, deftly stealing the calisson out of Courfeyrac's hand.
"Hé, Joly got those specifically for me!" Courfeyrac protested, trying to grab it back. "It is almost impossible to find a good calisson once one enters the city; I haven't had one in years."
"You will have relatives driving up from Aix-en-Provence within the week," replied Bossuet, through a mouthful of calisson. "Let the poor Northerner have a taste of Southern warmth."
"I'll give you a taste of Southern warmth," Courfeyrac replied, and in the ensuing scuffle, managed to lose his boutonniere and his calisson but also managed to pin Bossuet to the table.
"Ha, I win," said Courfeyrac, though he glanced anxiously at the mirror to make sure that no lasting damage had been done to his cravat.
"Have you been scuffling with your law-school friends more than usual?" asked Joly, attempting to dry his overcoat on the stove. "You actually won that time."
"How kind of you to notice," said Courfeyrac, grabbing the tin of calissons and gamely offering one to Bossuet in apology. "Oh, right, I completely forgot. I invited Bossuet to go to the Café Musain this evening to see my little boot-maker. Would you like to come?"
"I am always happy to go out for a drink," said Joly, with a smile, "particularly with the two of you. Bossuet, I have something for you too, but you will be here for Christmas Eve, won't you? I know Courfeyrac's spending both days at his aunt's."
"I have no plans whatsoever," said Bossuet. "And, since I am currently rebelling against the trend of consumerism infiltrating the ranks of our fellow students and turning them all into bourgeois nuisances, I shall put myself at your disposal tonight as my Christmas present to you."
Joly grinned. "Poor Bossuet, are you really that hard up?"
"I wasn't until I paid off parts of my bar tabs," replied Bossuet. "I always pay my just enough of my bills so that the various cafe owners of Paris do not lose faith in me or decide to take their money back in pounds of flesh, but never enough so that they think I will never return. I like to end the year on good terms with everyone, particularly my creditors. Courfeyrac, my dear fellow, I think I have just about given up trying to repay you."
"That's the spirit!" Courfeyrac said, flinging his arms around Bossuet's shoulders. "In fact, that is the best present you could have gotten me. I think it has stopped snowing. Shall we head off?"
Once Joly had wrapped himself up again and fretted over the fact that Bossuet could not actually close his overcoat, they began making their way through the Latin Quarter. The Café Musain was on the rue Saint-Michel, by one of the exits from the Jardin de Luxembourg and thus by a small plaza full of slush, horse droppings and ice. Bossuet, of course, somehow managed to slide on the ice and fall into a snow drift right in front of the café. One of the waitresses applauded, as did several of the students, sitting at a table outside the café, as not even the coldest weather could keep Parisian students from loitering outside cafés and laughing at the passer-by.
"We eagles are always trying to take off, at the least provocation," he remarked, to take the sting out of his scraped hands and the contusion on his left leg that had somehow managed to make Joly incoherently anxious. Though Bossuet was flattered at this proof of friendship, Joly had not removed either of the two scarves wrapped around the lower half of his face and Bossuet had no idea what Joly was saying, or why he was waving his arms around so frantically.
"Jesus, watch out for the carriage!" exclaimed Courfeyrac, dragging Bossuet out from where he had been sitting, in the middle of the snow bank, and, coincidentally, in the middle of the street. Joly, muffledly expressing his displeasure, helped Bossuet to his feet.
"Joly, my dear fellow, your protestations have been as muffled as your outpourings of republican sentiment," said Bossuet. "I did not understand a word."
"He asked, 'where would you be without us'?" Courfeyrac translated, as he and Joly helped Bossuet to his feet and began to brush him off. Joly nodded vigorously.
"Probably dead," said Bossuet. "I find that is my answer to most everything, which is why I take such pride in my funeral orations. Here lies a fallen eagle, who has not been trapped by a Corsican, or by a Caesar, but by the cruel carriage of fortune."
"There is a crest on the carriage," said Courfeyrac. "You could turn it into the death of a wild, noble creature at the hands of a corrupt, aristocratic society, speaking of which…." Courfeyrac eyed the progress of the carriage, frowning.
The carriage churned up the ugly gray sludge coating the surface of the street was driving around the corner, through the plaza of particularly disgusting sludge, and onto the rue Saint-Michel very close to a sullen, shivering group of workers. The workers attempted to cluster against the wall, but there was a group of seven or eight army officers on leave who did not wish to cede such a prime bit of walking space.
The workers- mostly grisettes and daylaborers in coats far too thin for the cold weather- were soaked in a sudden spray of slush, a few of them slipping and falling in their haste to get out of the way of the carriage wheels. The officers laughed; Courfeyrac, Bossuet and Joly all frowned, republican sensibilities outraged.
"Hey there, there were women there," called Courfeyrac, personally offended. One or two of the officers turned at the sound of his voice. "You might have given them the wall."
"I only see whores," said one officer, turning to walk forward, past the now very soggy members of the working class, in order to cross the street towards the café.
Joly caught Courfeyrac's arm and said something along the lines of, "Don't pay any attention to him, he only said that because they're grisettes and we're students."
"Our top hats and black coats give us away at once," said Bossuet, who was at least certain he had caught the word 'student'. "Come now, Courfeyrac, you of all people should know the importance of fashion—"
"And even if your average grisette finds your average student an irresistible lure into temptation, that doesn't give him the right to call them whores," said Courfeyrac, as several of the grisettes (and their male companions) began glaring and muttering what appeared to be various nasty epithets at the officers, who were now mostly past them but, alas, had not yet moved out of earshot.
"Watch your mouth before I clean it out with snow," threatened a hulking blond officer, turning around to glare at one particularly foul-mouthed seamstress.
"Aristocratic gits," said Courfeyrac, stooping down elegantly to pack together a large handful of snow. "Let me see... they are about to cross the street and have paused, I can very easily get closer and I am generally reckoned to have good aim...."
"Courfeyrac, this is a terrible idea," warned Joly, tugging down his scarf to better express his opposition.
"I've had worse," said Courfeyrac, who thereupon lobbed his snowball at the offending officersand managed to dislodge the hat of the officer harassing the foul-mouthed seamstress. "A la lantern les aristos!"
"Neo-Jacobin!" snarled the hatless one, spinning around.
"And proud of it!" shouted Courfeyrac, packing together another handful of snow. He hurled it with unerring accuracy and this time hit the officer in the face. Courfeyrac was extremely pleased with himself.
Bossuet and Joly were not quite so pleased.
"I seem to recall that army officers have to train in marksmanship," said Joly, tugging Courfeyrac towards the Café Musain by the back of his overcoat. "I very much doubt that this is going to end well."
"Fight for your beliefs, mon joli," said Bossuet, bending down and gamely scooping up a handful of snow. "Your uncle did for his, in the Vendée."
"Yes, and then my grandfather shot him in the head," said Joly.
"Every man of us!" cried Courfeyrac, causing the officers to start rushing at them.
"Oh hell," said Joly, releasing Courfeyrac. "I shall catch pneumonia, I know it." Nonetheless, he stooped, picked up a handful of snow, packed it together and flung it at the face of the nearest officer. Bossuet did the same, at which point an officer flung a snowball at his face and Bossuet slid on the ice and landed in a snowbank once again.
As luck would have it, once he managed to flounder to his feet, he got another snowball to the face and had to rely on Joly to drag him out of harm's way and behind a café table Courfeyrac had toppled over to use as a make-shift shield ("Pardon me, my dear fellows, but I claim this table in the service of the Republic. Oh, hallo Florent, hallo Mothe, hallo Pérot! Want to throw some snowballs at these bastards? Brilliant!"). The proprietor was not particularly pleased, but, as he then got hit by a snowball by an officer, the proprietor dragged another table out of the café and gamely added it to their make-shift barricade. Courfeyrac was clearly in his element, laughing and tossing out quips at the officers as easily as he tossed out snowballs. As Bossuet discovered in half-shouted conversation with Courfeyrac's friends, Florent and Mothe were cousins from Calais and had, like Bossuet, passed their childhood winters throwing snowballs at any carriage unlucky enough to come within range. Though Joly crouched against the side of the Musain, alternatively examining his tongue in his hand mirror ("Snow down the front of my coat is not going to help my bronchitis.") and making snowballs, Courfeyrac, Bossuet and the cousins managed to keep the soldiers from successfully crossing the street.
Though Pérot had decamped to the café with his glass of mulled wine, he opened the door a crack to allow several students who shared either Neo-Jacobin sympathies or a desire to throw snowballs to look out and decide on whether or not to join in the fun themselves. Bossuet, taking a break to crouch by the wall, by Joly, found himself looking into the very blue eyes of the blond from his Monday lecture. What was his name?
"Hallo," said Bossuet with a grin. "Come to observe the fight for the right to be free? Or rather, to prove to some aristos that the working class still has its defenders?"
The blond smiled at Bossuet. Bossuet was momentarily taken aback. He had a relative immunity from Courfeyrac's charm thanks to continued exposure, but was not so immune to one the blond's slow, steady smiles. For someone who seemed so reserved, he had a particularly inviting smile. "Citizen, allow me to observe that your barricade is in need of some support."
"Oh, come join us," said Bossuet. "I'm Lesgle, by the by, Lesgle from Meaux. Courfeyrac has nicknamed me 'Bousset', however, and the nickname has stuck. This is Joly."
Joly, huddled against the wall, gave a cheery wave and said, "Pleasure to meet you. You're Combeferre's friend, Enjolras?"
The blond inclined his head. "I am, citizen."
"Combeferre talks about you quite a lot; it's a pleasure to meet you in person, Citizen Enjolras. Careful there, Courfeyrac, that was an icicle he threw at you!" He handed a snowball to Courfeyrac and then turned back to Enjolras. "I don't think this barricade of ours is actually big enough. I- hey!"
Joly had gotten up on his knees, to better hand Courfeyrac a snowball and to look at Enjolras while talking to him, and was bombarded with snowballs from the officers.
"Stuck your head over the barricade, Joly," said Courfeyrac, with a rueful smile. "Poor fellow, even your hat could not hide the target what's-her-name made of your hair."
"Nothing like a little political squabbling to dampen one's ardour," Joly said.
"I think I shall bestow upon you an extra 'l'," said Courfeyrac, throwing an arm around Joly's shoulder in a quick half-hug. "Jolly, two ailes—" or 'wings' "—and you shall lift us all out of here."
"Ha," said Joly, brushing snow out of his now flattened hair. "I have been so soaked I cannot possibly take flight. We shall have to wait this out."
"Since you are fighting a defensive war," said Enjolras, "it may be wise to build up your barricade."
Courfeyrac, attempting to scrape together another handful of snow, added, "We're nearly out of ammunition, too."
Enjolras smiled again- really, thought Bossuet, if Napoleon had that kind of smile, no wonder his marshals had followed him across Europe- and said, "I believe I may be of some assistance, then, citizens."
Though neither Joly nor Bossuet were entirely sure how Enjolras managed to do it, a number of students came pouring out of the café with tables and chairs commandeered in the name of the Revolution (or in the name of giving those officers the what-for) and, under Enjolras's direction, began building up the barricade so that Joly and a few of his friends from the medical school who were willing to arm their fellows but not to aim at the officers, could run over to fuller patches of snow a bit farther from the café. Bossuet made his way back to the structured conglomeration of tables and chairs, held in place by tightly-packed snow, and decided that it would be better not to try his hand at engineering and thus destroying the structural integrity of the barricade. Instead, he crouched by the wall and watched in fascination as Enjolras, without ever declaring himself the leader or laying out any specific plan, took control of their now waist-level barricade.
"Six men throwing- yes, to the left, careful, let Combeferre pass." Enjolras, half-bent over, moved Courfeyrac and Florent into position, at a gap between tables, and then looked to a dark-haired fellow in a polytechnicien uniform. "Carnot, shall the wall of Troy fall under siege?"
Carnot, sitting on the doorstep of the Café Musain, grinned. "When Combeferre and I have been its architects? Hardly. I knew, sooner or later, you would lead me to something close to action, Enjolras. I've been waiting for this since my grandfather told me about Valmy. What a Christmas present!"
"I think the barricade will stand," said Combeferre, composedly. He accepted several snowballs from Joly, to pat down around the base of their barricade. "You are to be congratulated, Sadi."
"As are you," Carnot pointed out, though he grinned again. "You ought to have stayed at the Polytechnique, you know."
"I am happier at the medical school," replied Combeferre, turning to Enjolras. "How shall we advance?"
"Our ammunition is still relatively limited," said Enjolras. "Six to stay here- Combeferre, Carnot, Courfeyrac, arm yourselves and come with me."
Courfeyrac left off shouting insulting things about the officers' mothers to clap Bossuet on the shoulder and exclaim, "Well, my dear fellow, I cede the fort to you."
"Me?" asked Bossuet, a little sceptically.
"Why not?" said Courfeyrac, accepting several snowballs from Joly. "Joly has put himself in charge of ammunition and Enjolras has some plan in mind we cannot help but follow, since it will win the day, and has asked me to go with him."
"I think I will break the barricade," Bossuet said.
"Stand with your back to the wall, then," said Joly, handing Bossuet a snowball, "you shall only break your leg that way and- tch, what happened to your gloves, Bossuet? You will get frostbite and your fingers will turn black and fall off."
Enjolras touched Bossuet on the shoulder. "You will undertake this duty, citizen?"
"If you would like me to," Bossuet said, with a puzzled smile.
"Have your men hold their fire until you hear me," said Enjolras, who, after receiving his snowballs from Combeferre, disappeared back inside the café, the three other students following him in a nice show of 'C' alliteration.
Bossuet, feeling very awkward, was left with six students he did not know very well, all of whom were crouched behind café tables and looking at him expectantly. He glanced at Joly, who smiled quite brightly and said, "Well here you are, my eagle, a chance to spread your wings. I have no doubt you shall soar."
"Into the window of the Musain, most likely," said Bossuet. "Joly, ammunition- my other friends, arm yourselves, and wait for that blond fellow to give the signal. Then, I believe we leap up and launch our snowballs altogether, in a show of student solidarity that will teach them to respect the value of education. However, let us wait for the signal."
It came soon enough. As soon as Joly and one of his friends had run over with snowballs and put them in little piles by each student, Bossuet heard a sharp, 'Now!' from somewhere above him.
"Now!" Bossuet echoed, and he and the six students under his command all leapt up and flung their snowballs straight into the faces of the officers who, in the absence of continuous opposition, had decided to try and get closer. This had been a very stupid idea on their part, as Enjolras, Courfeyrac, Combeferre and Carnot had somehow gained access to the upper story of the Musain and had begun barraging the officers with several well-aimed snowballs from above.
"Again!" shouted Enjolras.
Bossuet and Joly joined in this time and, from their positions behind the other students, managed to knock off the hat of the blond officer that had so annoyed Courfeyrac.
"Fire at will!" said Enjolras, and Bossuet, Joly and the other law students were on very pleased to obey. The officers began edging their way away from the Café Musain. However, the workers on the opposite side of the street had grown emboldened from the students' example and began scooping up handfuls of snow and flinging them at the officers too.
Thus outnumbered, the officers had no recourse but to give up and run down the street, towards the Pantheon. A great cheer went up from the students. Bossuet impulsively hugged Joly and glanced up to see Courfeyrac very enthusiastically embracing Enjolras and kissing him on both cheeks.
"You are soaked through!" Joly exclaimed, once Bossuet had released him. "Take this." He pulled off his scarves and, after dragging Bossuet out of the way of several students going into some sort of bastardized version of the Carmagnole, draped the dryer scarf around Bossuet's shoulders. "I am terribly worried about you, Bossuet. One of my friends in the medical school told me that he had lived in the garret you went to look at today and it has no stove. You cannot possibly go back to it soaking wet like this."
"Ah, you forget that I am from Meaux," replied Bossuet. "I am used to the cold breezes of bad fortune. Besides, the warmth of my love for the triumph of republicanism has driven out any chill that seeks to wind itself around my heart."
Joly actually pouted. "Hmph. I still cannot like it. So... here, have your present early." Joly dug a small bundle of cloth out of the capacious pockets of his greatcoat and stuck it into Bossuet's ungloved hand. "Merry Christmas and all."
The bundle of cloth turned out to be several handkerchiefs wrapped around a key. Bossuet shoved the handkerchiefs in the pocket of his shabby tailcoat and said, "Ah... thank you? I am honoured that you have apparently given me the key to your heart—"
"Ha, no," said Joly. "Wish I had thought of that, though. I've just given you a key to my apartment."
Bossuet was, for the second time that evening, struck dumb. He felt himself flushing.
Joly offered him a quick, bright smile. "You stay with me often enough. Why not move in?"
"I don't mind at all. I hate living on my own, you haven't any place to stay... my father pays for rent and I have a spare room that, with a little help from Courfeyrac and a few fellows you don't know from the medical school, got turned into a bedchamber. There isn't a fireplace in it, and the tub is still there, along with the airing cupboard, but when it's really cold I don't mind sharing my bed."
Since Bossuet was still incoherent, Joly pressed on, with an added note of uncertainty. "I mean, I just called things off with my mistress, so that's not a problem, and it is a large bed. There are two mattresses. If you'd rather, I could pull one out onto the floor and you could sleep on that. I mean, it's not as if I mean to say, 'Bossuet, old fellow, you must move in with me', I just meant to say, euh, to say that you always have some place where you will have a bed and a welcome and... it's not an obligation, really, it's just a- an invitation. Not one you have to take or anything- just, if you are ever in need of a place to stay you will always have one with me. It's, er... a gesture of fraternité, really...."
Bossuet looked down at the key, provoking a miserable cry of, "Oh, devil take it, I didn't mean to offend you!", half-drowned out by the Carmagnole the other students were attempting to sing.
"You did not at all," said Bossuet, slinging his arm around Joly's shoulders. "I am... Joly, all I gave you for Christmas was that bout of influenza you had two weeks ago."
Joly's smile was tentative, but all the sweeter for its uncertainty. "That's alright. A gift's not worth much if it's given in expectation of return. Besides, my dear eagle of words, you have given me your friendship and that is a gift I can never repay."
"Between you and Courfeyrac," Bossuet said, pretending his voice sounded strangled because of the cold, even though he was feeling uncomfortably warm, "I will become terribly spoilt."
"If we don't accidentally kill you first," said Joly. He brushed the snow out of Bossuet's collar, with the playful, half-scolding briskness Joly always had when he was teasing. "You shall catch your death of cold if all this snow melts down your shirt and with your luck, it probably will."
"Ah, you are too good of a doctor and to let me perish of cold, though," said Bossuet.
Joly's smile kept him warm for weeks afterward.


text:
This report is the fourth study of the nonprofit arts and culture industry's impact on the economy. The most comprehensive study of its kind ever conducted, it features customized findings on 182 study regions representing all 50 states and the District of Columbia as well as estimates of economic impact nationally. Despite the economic headwinds that our country faced in 2010, the results are impressive. Nationally, the industry generated $135.2 billion of economic activity -- $61.1 billion by the nation's nonprofit arts and culture organizations in addition to $74.1 billion in event-related expenditures by their audiences. This economic activity supports 4.1 million full-time jobs. Our industry also generates $22.3 billion in revenue to local, state, and federal governments every year -- a yield well beyond their collective $4 billion in arts allocations.
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- Copyright 2012 Americans for the Arts.
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This web page is marked up with Schema.org microdata. Much of the necessary microdata is embedded within the HTML that creates the display you see above. The data that shows below is formatted for machine-reading and rounds out the complete descriptive set for this resource. Want more info about all of this? Go here. You can also view the complete dataset for this resource the way a machine sees it here .Title: Arts & Economic Prosperity IV: The Economic Impact of Nonprofit Arts and Culture Organizations and Their Audience
Publication date 2012-05-16
Publication Year 2012
Copyright holder(s) Americans for the Arts
Geographical Focus North America / United States
Keywords nonprofit arts , economic prosperity , economic impact , fiscal year end , end date
Document type Dataset , Report/Whitepaper
Language English
URL: http://www.issuelab.org/resource/arts_economic_prosperity_iv_the_economic_impact_of_nonprofit_arts_and_culture_organizations_and_their_audience
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Farmhouse Fresh Welcome Home Hanging Plaque
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The Top Ten Highest Earning Songs Of All Time
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Gabriel in UniformMature
Gabriel pulled on a black, long sleeved shirt and a black, sleeveless tunic trimmed in gold all with Sylver's help. Only just managing to tug on he black trousers himself, a gold strip ran down the seams on the outside and Sylver adjusted them to make sure they were straight.
"Gabriel?" Sylver said holding up the jacket that finished the uniform but Gabriel shook his head.
"I can't strap my wings down yet." He said Sylver hung it back up as Gabriel did the tunic up struggling slightly with tiny hooks that finished at his throat.
Gabriel didn't look up as Dawn's door opened.
"This is all I…" he stopped his eyes settling on Gabriel who looked at him when he stopped talking.
"What?" Gabriel asked frowning as Dawn stared at him.
"I…" Dawn stuttered.
"I hope you're more articulate around Aura." Lou laughed from the end of Gabriel's bed.
"I wish you wouldn't just pop in" Gabriel growled strapping his sword on he shifted it slightly as it sat on a deep bruise on his hip.
"Sorry princeling." Lou smiled "but even I have to admit you scrub up well, bruises and all." Gabriel glared at him. "Doesn't he Dawn?" Lou added with a grin. Dawn nodded slowly his eyes not leaving Gabriel.
"Wakey wakey Dawn" Sylver laughed "if you'll all excuse me I have to change too." Dawn seemed to wake up a little and he smiled.
"sorry." He said Gabriel sniffed and shifted the sword again.
"Problems princeling?" Lou asked frowning.
"Stop calling me that." Gabriel snapped finally taking his belt off he removed the sword sheath and fiddled with it before threading it back on and sat it on the other hip.
"Better?" Lou asked.
"Not really." Gabriel winced "it'll do"
"I'll be right back." Sylver smiled.
"Did you want something Lou?" Gabriel asked sitting down on the bed.
"Just checking everyone's okay" Lou smiled "you both look a lot better.
"I definitely feel a lot better." Dawn grinned still looking at Gabriel.
"Will you stop it?" Gabriel growled. Dawn moved and walked to the bed reaching down he gently pulled the prince up into a hug.
"Well, maybe I'll come back later." Lou said "see you soon" he vanished.
"Dawn, I don't want this creased" Dawn laughed.
"I must say, your highness." He said grinning happily. "You look wonderful."


text:
Chapter 1: JohnMature
Chapter 1: John
I love my village and my castle. It's a small village. cute, small and utterly in shambles. The shackles of the roofs were literally falling off, the doors so poorly made that if one cared to they would see everything inside and everything the inhabitants were doing weather it be public . . . .or private. The street was made of well trodden dirt and pulverized horse manure. To match the town a mile from the village my small decrepit wood castle was built. It's wood was of the same quality of the village's but it more resembled a small hastily thrown together mansion than a castle. But for all of this the parade I was in marching down the streets was as merry as it could be.
It wasn't much of a parade seeing as it was made of soldiers. but at the forefront There were two riders leading merry progression. one was tall with raven black hair and dark skin to match. he bore a crudely made broadsword on his back with a dagger stuck hazardlessly through his belt. he was stained all up from his boots to his knees in weeks old blood and shit. The other was me. My legs faired the same but the similarities ended there. I'm proud to say that I am monstrously tall with crimson hair and eyes to match the crimson blood on my clothes. I wield a small katana with a gilded hilt. My clothes though would be no different if it wasn't for the symbol of a speared head blazoned on the back and front.
"hey John look at the new castle they made for us while we were out fighting. It's a beaut ain't it?" Said the dark haired man
"Told you it was gonna be good Marc. We had our finest builders working on it for the whole time we were fighting." I said
"Ha-ha sure ya did. Those workers ain't worth crap. By the way do ya think we'll be the first kingdom to survive longer than a week?" Said Marc
I laughed " we might. four days so far. we'll at least make seven since we cleared those bandits awhile back."
Marc snorted " we hardly did a thing you took them by yourself didn't give us no chance to bloody our blades"
John smirked "I'm sure you got a few. But perhaps I wanted some sport. Instead of slaying some bloke who can hardly hold a sword."
" we'll if you would've told us that your so good with a bloody blade then you might've gotten more of a following." Said Marc as he raised his eyebrows.
John sighed " We've been over this already. I don't want followers who would sooner kill me or fear me. If were going to have a lasting empire we need them to trust us not put a knife in our back like every other king so far."
Marc laughed " Half of em would do that anyways. You gonna get yourself killed with these crazy antics. But perhaps you may be able to postpone that with a feast in honor of our glorious victory ?" He smiled wickedly.
I laughed "Of course I do. But your gonna have to pick some unlucky fellows to guard us while we eat. I don't want to end up like king Simon with a sword in my gut while I tumble some lucky wench."
" Of course" said Marc as he called over a few lads a sent them off to the castle with the news " There done. But you better have some roast at the feast. I'm gonna go see my wife and I'm gonna need a full stomach to deal with her tonight. but in any case later king John" He said as he ran off as fast as he could go.
" I told you not to call me that bastard!" John yelled after him to no avail.
" hey John if were going to have a feast then you better go get your brother to set it up!" yelled a soldier behind him
John straightened up and said " I'm not your servant boy." as he rode off to find his brother leaving all his men laughing behind him and with a huge grin on his own face.
Later in the afternoon I approached my castle. It was a hastily made ragged old thing. Wrought of rotten wood and ashened oak. If you would simply look at it you would see a castle of indescribable age. thousands of years old it seemed. Until you got up close that is and saw it was made of old wood indeed but freshly cut old wood. Termites clogged up the gaps and mud was sloppily slapped into the cracks to hold it together with mold grown onto many parts of the wood. Yet despite all of this it had a complete beloved atmosphere. It had a homely feel that made any who stepped into it's halls feel utterly and completely welcome And welcome did I feel.
As I stepped in the castle i saw a servant boy and waved him over to me. " Do you know where Lucian my brother is?" I asked him.
His eyes crossed " I tink he's in the hoffers 'oom couting up ya spoils seh."
"The coffers room?" I asked and when he nodded I said " Thanks but you should stop crossing your eyes and do something about that speech. How old did you say you were?"
" I'm sowwy suh. I'm six suh." he said trying to uncross his eyes but failing.
" oh." I said in surprise " Never mind then." Then he nodded and ran off to a kitchen chef who was calling him over.
I reached the room after a long walk in my castle's narrow halls. The room was small but finely decorated. Well that is if you have a taste in ledgers and such. My brother was dressed in Black and brown. His hair was a light red with a small grey streak in the left side. As he raised his sky blue eyes to me he put his hand on his sword. A small shorts sword with no decoration. My brother liked to get close in fights and we were near equals with me being slightly better.
" What do you want?" He said as he took his hand of his sword and went back to writing on his latest piece of ho-dah or something.
" Were having a feast tonight in celebration of my our first victory" I said
He stopped writing and quietly set down his pencil. " no" he said as he stared at me.
I frowned " What do you mean no. the men want a feast so we shall have one."
he started tapping his foot. a general sign of him being annoyed " I mean no. feasts can wait. we need to save our money for the fighting not some extravagant feast."
I sighed " It's not going to be extravagant. just some food, singers, and wenches"
His tapping got faster " Yes some food for 3,000 people, singers for every table of which there are 260, and a wench for every man who'll get drunk enough to take them. Every wife will come to complain of some "ladies" in they're old beds. You included most likely. I wonder what you'll wife will have to say about that."
I shuffled from foot to foot " Were going to do it. At the very least I mean for it to show that were not afraid of opposition. You know like a sign "
He grunted " Yeah a sign. A sign that we don't no how to handle money and are ripe for the plucking."
"Bu-" I began
"Shut up i'll try to think of something if your so insistent on it." He interrupted as he walked over to the wall and looked at a paper.
I smiled " Thanks I knew I could trust you."
He ignored me so I walked off.
When I got back to my rooms my wife burst out the door and hugged me.
"I'm glad your okay" she said as she stepped back for a second and looked into my eyes. Her hair was a beautiful gold and her eyes were green. she wore a silver gown that looked quite new.
I smiled " So am I. So is it a boy or a girl?"
"Girl." she smiled as she led me into the room. Her voice was like honey.
The room was big and thickly decorated with swords of all kinds. Great swords, Short swords, Katanas which are my favorite, broadswords, and all other kinds. what can I say? I like swords. She walked over to a girl who was sitting in the corner. she looked to be two years of age. When my wife walked her over to me I took a look at her. Her eyes were blue and innocent. White hair and little hands. She wore a small dress and she had a hand in her mouth.
I smiled " She's beautiful. What's her name?"
" Elena" she said and the little girl looked up at her mother.
I laughed and tried to pick her up but she quickly ran back wards and stared at me.
" Salina what's wrong with her" I said frowning
Salina smiled and went over to my daughter " Well you've been out fighting so much that you didn't even know if she was a boy or girl. She doesn't know you so she's scared." she picked up Elena and walked over to me " This is your daddy Elena. see?" Elena took her hand out of her mouth and started to reach towards me but stopped halfway. but silina kissed her on her forehead and told her it was okay. So My little girl reached out her hand and softly rubbed my head.
"Daddy" she said.
I Felt giddy with excitement. I wanted to sweep them both up and twirl us all around and laugh. but I knew it would scare Elena so i contented myself with taking her hand off my head and holding it while I looked into her eyes.
"was That her first words?" I said hoping.
My wife tilted her head and smiled " No she said mommy first"
I laughed softly as I gently let go of her hand and stood up " She's beautiful." I said softly as I stared down at her. As I stared I knew that I wouldn't ever let anything ever happen to her.
My wife laughed " You already said that."
I laughed " I know but it's true. It's also true that were having a feast tonight."
Salina nodded " I heard the whole castle is talking about it. It starts in two hours you better hurry up and get ready if you want to meet marc on the way."
I laughed, got dressed and kissed her for the last time before I left.
I met Marc in the palace gates an hour later. I was wearing a red and silver suit. Most men said it was unlucky to wear red on the first feast of your reign. Because that red is same colour of blood but I didn't care. As for marc, well he was wearing a black suit and had a somber look on his face. It was raining
Nevertheless I smiled a huge smile " Hello marc. You ready for the feast?"
Marc smiled thinly " Yes."
As I turned to go inside Marc said " John can we talk out here for a sec. I got sumthin to tell ya."
I walked outside and stood there as an uncomfortable silence set over us.
Marc cleared his throat " Well first off. Is it a boy or girl?"
I looked up into the rain picturing Elena's face " A girl and she's beautiful. White hair, innocent eyes, she's perfect. I couldn't ask for more. What about your kid? I heard that you named the babe before we left and it was still in the womb too."
Marc looked down. " That's what I was gonna talk about. He was a boy. but I missed him. He's gone."
I was confused " gone? What do you mean by gone."
Marc looked out into the distance " It was yesterday. He was out playing. As for what happened." He stopped talking.
"what happened?" I said
He said three words " Homme mort vueve"
That was all I needed to know. Homme mort vueve was a fancy french way to say " Widows dead man" It was a bandit band. They didn't work like other bands though because they didn't plunder, rape or steal livestock. They sold. They would go into towns and steal little boys or girls and take them in train them, raise them up as one of they're own and then sell them to the bandits that would bid the highest. Of course bandits didn't just buy them for number boosters. There are plenty willing to become bandits anyways. They bought them from Homme mort vueve because they train their "recruits" to be cold effective and merciless killers. Any who don't make the cut get their throats cut while they're sleeping. They are truly deadly killers though. They never train any two recruits the same way so that it's pointless to try to use one pf their styles against any other. I've only fought two but each one gave me plenty of scars and had me wishing I would never meet another. It was the worst fate for any child.
After a long silence I said " What is his name?" That was the only the Homme mort vueve allowed them to keep. their names.
" Pierre." He said.
I looked up into the sky letting the rain fall on my face " It's a good name." I said.
We stood there for a long time just being in eachothers company. Sometimes that's all you can do. To just be there.
After awhile the sky was starting to get dark. " The feast is about to start. We need to go." I said.
Later we were all sitting at the table and I was talking with a healer about how to set an arm in place when I began to get bored.
" -well when you set your arm you need to be careful because th-" The healer was saying.
Interrupting him I stood up and said " Everyone be quiet!" As the hall got quiet I began to speak although a few of the men were to busy kissing their ladies to hear me.
" Is this a party?!" I yelled.
"Yes" they roared back.
" You wanna know waht would make it better?" I asked.
"what?" they asked back.
" A sword fight!" They began to cheer but I hushed them down " But not just any old swordfight. For every match you win you have to drink a flagon of beer and you have to hold one in your hand as you fight. If you spill you beer then you lose!" I was drunk" But here's the best part!" they listened intently" The man to beat me gets a bag of gold!" really drunk. " And you are my first opponent!" I pointed to a couple that was still kissing.
His fellows pulled him up stuck a beer bottle in his hand and a sword in the other and shoved him towards me. He was utterly confused " bottoms up" I said as I flipped his drink into his face with the tip of my sword. The whole crowd cheered.
"next!" I yelled and a huge man stood up with a big grin on his face and a scrimitar in hand
" Lets see what ya got." He said.
He swung his scimitar at me. I ducked under it, hit his knee with my foot and as he fell forward I cut his beer bottle sending it's contents falling all over the floor. He just laughed.
A good hour or to later the fighting began to fie down. I hadn't even taken a scratch and I had beaten most twenty-three men. " Come on" I roared " who'll fight me?!"
Marc stood up " You need ta go to bed and sober up man. you too drunk for this now."
I was furious " Then I guess your my next opponent!" I said as I picked up another beer bottle.
" If that's what it takes to clam you down then fine." He drew his broadsword and picked up a beer bottle.
I lunged forward and tried to hit his bottle. He stopped my blade not even wavering an inch. Even more enraged I tried to beat down his sword by repeatadly bashing it. He didn't even grunt. Furious I tried to hit him anywhere I could. For minutes all that could be heard was the sound of our blades clashing our cups forgotten and on the floor. I still got nowhere near him. I was breathing heavily and tried for one last lunge. He slipped past my blade, smacked my hand with the flat of the sword making me drop it and he kicked it away. All the men were laughing.
" You had enough?" He said as he smiled. Dang I forgot that he was the best fighter after me and my brother. He specialized in defence and counters. I was no match for him when I'm drunk.
I roared with laughter as I said "Yeah I've had enough." I picked up my sword and stuck it in it's sheath. The duel had burned away most of my haze from being drunk. I groaned " This is why I try not to drink."
He laughed " That was a good fight. But your wife is waiting for you. better go before she gets mad."
I smiled " Yeah. see you later."
As I was walking down the halls I thought I heard a squeak. I stopped and when It happened again I stopped and waited till I heard it one more time. I quickly walked toward the sound.
I realized the squeals were actually screams.
from my room.
I ran there as fast as I could. I arrived at the doors of my room and threw them open.
The fernature was all in dissaray. Swords had fallen from the walls from the struggle and My brother had a knife to Salina's throat.
" Hello brother." He said as he slid the knife across her throat.


text:
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It's always worth bringing running kit.
Always take the kit to London...it's always warmer there anyway
It always baffles me why, when presented with a lovely place like Regents Park, people want to run on the paths. Might as well just run down the pavement outside. Your body was designed to run on the grass.
I live nearby and I think Regents Park gets closed early in the winter (once it gets dark), you can still do a lap around the outer circle, Primrose Hill to the north is good for a few laps and you can easily access Regents Canal towpath (be reflective though as cyclists are everywhere).
definitely pack that kit. you've got Regent's Park plus Primrose Hill, which makes a very good circuit. weather-wise, london will indeed be warmer and very rarely slippy. for a longer, daytime run, considering extending from Primrose Hill up to Hampstead Heath and back (approx 10 miles). another nearby option is Hyde Park, St James Park, Green Park (excellent views of the major sights). the routes are on my club's website -- http://www.serpentine.org.uk/pages/run_routes_index.html
you can also join our Hyde Park club run on wednesday nights at 6.45, paying just one pound. have fun!
indeed - greenwich park, richmond park, both utterly splendid if you can get there. greenwich is hilly.
Oh god, first post - here goes:
I also run the Outer Circle of Regents Park. It doesn't get too slippy at all but it can get dark as the lighting isn't too good. I used to do my early (0530) runs there but find it too dark now so have started going around the park on the Prince Albert Road/Albany Street. The Outer Circle is about 4,5K si it makes it quite easy to track the distance if not wearing a GPS devide of some sort.
Tom. wrote (see)
PhilPub, just in case you're lurking I've never run round Greenwich Park, though I believe it's quite hilly.
I'm lucky enough to live 0.7 miles away from Greenwich Park (0.9 miles to the main entrance by the donkeys on the heath!) and it's a perfect park for training. Yes it's located on the side of a hill so there is a variety of different length/steepness of slopes to be had for all kinds of sessions, but there is also a nice plateau on the top for flat tempo intervals, etc. And given that it links up with Blackheath at one end and the river at the other, there are endless traffic-free opportunities for long runs. And the toilets always have bog roll.
cougie wrote (see)
Does Greenwich still have those jumps and fences left over from the summer ? Some great cross training to be had there !
They've only very recently taken away all the horsey stuff and re-opened access throughout the park, but they're taking their time re-laying all the turf. Or maybe they're gonna plant some crops?
The other thing I didn't think about was when I would be running: pretty bloody early, is the answer. Didn't fancy running through the park at 6.30am, but a couple of circuits round the outside edge was fine. Frosty at times, but nothing icy enough to make you slip. The view from the northern gate down through the main North /South path on the second lap as the sun rose was pretty impressive. Might stay in a different hotel next time (Travelodge at Marylebone is a bit rank, TBH), and try a different park.


text: / Blog Blog Three Busted Myths About Working with a PEOby Tim AustinSeptember 12, 2016 8:00 AMIt can be hard to manage HR functions internally. That's why a Professional Employer Organization (PEO) provides comprehensive services for businesses in need of help. However, some people aren't as familiar with how PEOs operate and may be concerned about working with them. Fortunately, we're here to help answer your questions. We've debunked three myths about PEOs that you shouldn't worry about.More...216b800b-5a87-4a2f-9038-6a531e064c48|1|5.0|96d5b379-7e1d-4dac-a6ba-1e50db561b04Tags: professional employer organization, peo educationBenefits Permalink GMS Receives 2013 Weatherhead 100 Awardby Tim AustinDecember 13, 2013 7:49 AMWe're happy to announce that this week, Group Management Services (GMS), received the Weatherhead 100 award in recognition as one of Northeast Ohio's fastest growing companies. From 2008 through 2012, GMS experienced a 55.5% growth in sales, making us the largest Ohio-based professional employer organization. The Weatherhead 100 award is given to companies whose net sales grew from at least $100,000 to over $1 million in the last five years and employed a minimum of 16 people full-time in 2012. More...c9b98dec-c0ee-47b3-b9ed-5bd5b630587f|5|5.0|96d5b379-7e1d-4dac-a6ba-1e50db561b04Tags: Professional employer organization, PEO, administrative outsourcingGMS News Permalink Save Yourself Time: Introducing GMS Resourcesby Tim AustinJuly 25, 2013 1:09 PMHR functions can take a lot of time. For small business owners, that time could be better used in better ways—like growing your business and making more sales.GMS is committed to saving you time and money on your HR functions, including Payroll, Benefits, Risk Management, and more. In support of this commitment, we're happy to announce that we have just launched a brand new educational resources section on our website.More...3b2e1cee-0552-41df-a470-c3ffde10a49d|4|4.0|96d5b379-7e1d-4dac-a6ba-1e50db561b04Tags: what is a peo, peo education, professional employer organizationGMS News Permalink Solving Small Businesses' HR Problemsby Andrew SzczesniakMarch 26, 2013 10:00 AMDo any of these sound familiar?Losing good employees to competitors.A cranky work environment.Excessive workplace injuries.Out-of-control healthcare costs.Ridiculously high unemployment insurance costs.More...b7847462-ac4c-4274-87df-24e924cce825|4|5.0|96d5b379-7e1d-4dac-a6ba-1e50db561b04Tags: business, outsource hr, professional employer organizationBenefits | Human Resources | Payroll | Risk Management Permalink Back to Top Contact Us Log in Get notified when a new post is published * indicates required Email Address* Category list Benefits (58)GMS News (17)Grab Bag (40)Human Resources (55)Payroll (19)Risk Management (46)Third Party Administration (7) Month List 2013February (3)March (5)April (7)May (4)June (4)July (2)August (5)September (1)October (2)November (1)December (9)2014January (6)February (6)March (7)April (2)May (1)June (3)July (2)October (2)November (1)December (2)2015January (4)February (4)March (3)April (4)May (5)June (5)July (7)August (4)September (3)October (3)November (2)December (3)2016January (4)February (4)March (5)April (4)May (3)June (4)July (6)August (5)September (7)October (8)November (8)December (5)2017January (6)February (4)March (7)April (5)May (3)


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Rolling swells, golden sunsets and sands to call your own at a place where luxury abounds and warmth beckons you to linger. A little haven of perfect peace and quiet intimacy is yours to discover at Era Beach by Jetwing. A truly one of a kind hotel in Galle with beautiful views and a serene ambienc...
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Stylophora pistillata, a reef coral in the Northern Red Sea, thrived in simulated global-warming conditions.
Rats Are Ticklish, Sometimes
November 14, 2016|
Researchers may have pinpointed the part of the brain that makes rats laugh when tickled.
November 14, 2016|
Researchers may have pinpointed the part of the brain that makes rats laugh when tickled.
November 11, 2016|
Watch how researchers use RNA to track where neurons' axons end in the mouse brain.
November 9, 2016|
Natural selection may be behind the dearth of Neanderthal DNA in modern humans.
November 7, 2016|
A mutation that appeared early in the 2014 outbreak made the virus more infectious in humans, scientists show.
November 2, 2016|
Merck's verubecestat, which is currently being tested in two Phase 3 studies, is safe, according to newly published Phase 1 data.
November 1, 2016|
In Chapter 1, author Paul L. Nunez sets the stage for a scientific exploration of the inky depths of consciousness.
November 1, 2016|
Researchers seek to disentangle the complexity of the human mind from a cross-disciplinary perspective, but the phenomenon may be out of the reach of human understanding.
November 1, 2016|
Meet some of the people featured in the November 2016 issue of The Scientist.
November 1, 2016|
Researcher Michal Schwartz discusses the promise of neuroimmunology to treat neurological disease.
November 1, 2016|
Assistant Professor, Bates College. Age: 37


text:
|incl. VAT
|£66.90 £60.90
|excl. VAT
Perhaps everybody, when they hear the word Merkur think of planet of our solar system, but most of them on the most famous Czech toy of the same name.Mercury is named trains and metal kit, which was established early last century in Police nad Metují.Czech traditional metal construction kit from which you can build according to your imagination or use the included instructions for building a variety of models.Everything can assemble with screws and nuts that are included.Special kit made on the occasion of the hundredth anniversary of the first continuous flight motor-driven and human-driven machines.This flight made near Kitty Hawk, North Carolina, the Wright Brothers in the morning on the 17th12th1903rdFlying time has just begun.Included in the kit is a detailed návodová book with 100 aircraft models. Specifications: Minimum number of models: 100 Number of parts: 900 pcs Dimensions: 360 x 270 x 55 mm Weight: 2.7 kg
Specifications can be changed without notice. Images are for illustrative purposes only. Retail Price (MSRP) means the manufacturer's/supplier's suggested retail price.
Link to Manufacturer's Website: Enter link to the external review


text:
Francis Veber, director of wacky French comedies Le Dîner de Cons and The Closet, returns to try the patience of UK audiences with a new knockabout adventure. It's about an amiable goof and failed bank robber called Quentin, played by Gérard Depardieu, whose face reverts at rest to a default mode of vacuous grinning: the kind of performance that probably got big laughs from the crew. In prison, he is made to share a cell with a villain called Ruby, played by the sempiternally stubbled Jean Reno; the authorities want to know where Ruby has stashed a treasure-trove of stolen cash and figure that Quentin will provoke some giveaway remark. But the pair of them somehow escape, with consequences that are sometimes funny without ever quite achieving comic takeoff.
André Dussollier, the blue-chip French character-actor, plays the permanently annoyed prison psychiatrist and Aurélien Recoing is wasted in the role of laconic criminal.


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UST Global needed to expand their infrastructure capacity without
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47385 209th Place, McGregor, MN 55760
About the Listing
Relax and enjoy the beautiful view of Lake Minnewawa. This lovely home is ready to move into with many upgrades.Watch the wildlife from the 3-season porch or large deck.A cozy wood burning fireplace to use during those chilly days. Master bath and patio door to deck off of master bedroom.Newer windows, added insulation and an energy efficient furnace keep heating costs down.Newer Dock included. Level lot. Motivated Seller!1997 fully equipped Lund fishing boat negotiable.
Share Listing
Property Details for 47385 209th Place, McGregor, MN 55760
Bedrooms: 3
Bathrooms: 2 Full
Lot Size: 0.33 Acres
Lot Dimensions: 100x140
Year Built: 1979
Garage Dimensions: 1 car
Garage: Attached Garage, Insulated Garage, Driveway - Gravel, Garage Door Opener
Style: (SF) One Story
Neighborhood: Minnewawa Estates
Water: Well, Drilled
Sewer: Private, Mound
Square Feet: 1400
Above Ground Sq Ft: 1400
Room Information for 47385 209th Place, McGregor, MN 55760
Main Floor
Living Room: 14x18
Dining Room: 10x13
Kitchen: 10x12
Bedroom 1: 12x14
Bedroom 2: 10x12
Bedroom 3: 10x12
Laundry: 12x6
Three Season Porch: 12x18
Dining Room Description: Kitchen/Dining Room
School Information for 47385 209th Place, McGregor, MN 55760
School District: Mcgregor
School District Phone: 218-768-2111
Interior Features for 47385 209th Place, McGregor, MN 55760
Appliances: Exhaust Fan/Hood, Dishwasher, Refrigerator
Air Cond: Central
Heating: Forced Air, Fireplace
Fireplaces: Yes
Basement: Crawl Space
Exterior Features for 47385 209th Place, McGregor, MN 55760
Lot Description: Corner Lot, Tree Coverage - Light
Lot Dimensions: 100x140
Roof: Asphalt Shingles, Pitched, Age 8 Years or Less
Zoning: Residential-Single, Shoreline
Additional Exterior/Lot Features: Cement Board
Financial Considerations for 47385 209th Place, McGregor, MN 55760
Tax Amount: $1,237
Taxes w/Assessments: $1,302
Tax/Property ID: 291474900
Tax Year: 2016
Monthly Payment = $0
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The data relating to real estate for sale on this web site comes in part from the Broker Reciprocity Program of the Regional Multiple Listing Service of Minnesota, Inc. Real estate listings held by brokerage firms other than the owner of this website are marked with the Broker Reciprocity logo or the Broker Reciprocity thumbnail logo and detailed information about them includes the name of the listing brokers.


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|Message view
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|Ralph Goers <Ralph.Go...@dslextreme.com>
|Re: JDK 1.3 build fails
|Sun, 07 Nov 2004 21:57:23 GMT
Antonio Gallardo wrote: >Hi Ralph: > >It is supposed that the scratchpad block is one of the expception while >building with 1.3. Also there is the ojb block too. This blocks only work >for java 1.4. If you are using 1.3, you can exclude this 2 blocks from the >build. > >BTW, there is jdk1.3.1_13 > > Thanks. It appears the problem is that there are non-english characters in a few of the files. However, I will exclude them as I don't need them for what I need to do. Thank, Ralph
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Who knew?
I Love "The Law"
By Kickntrue on 11/30/07
Woman wants to live in beautiful golf course housing development. Woman in shock because golf balls end up in her yard. Woman sues golf course and wins. Brilliant! (FullStory)
[ comments ]
LexMacar says:
HOly piss thats messed up that shows you how ef'ed up our law is. ok you move in to a golf course community to be near golf, there is a risk that golf balls may travel at your house. if you dont like the risk of being hit by a golf ball DONT MOVE THERE!!!!!!!!! sorry i just hate people liek that.
[ post comment ]
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On Saturday, January 16th, My Money Blog was created after reading a book about building blog sites online.
3.5 months, 114 financial blog postings, and 32 RSS feed subscribers later, My Money Blog celebrates its 5000th unique site vistor on May 4th, 2010! A big thanks goes out to the viewers/readers of the website and the sponsors that make this effort possible!
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Fastloan4mewww.fastloan4me.com internet, Select State/Province USA
Fastloan4me withdrawn money from account not authorized internet
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Fastloan 4 me withdrawn $30.00 from account twice when they were never authorized to. Did not apply for loan
This report was posted on Ripoff Report on 05/09/2013 10:03 AM and is a permanent record located here: http://www.ripoffreport.com/reports/fastloan4me/internet-select-stateprovince/fastloan4me-withdrawn-money-from-account-not-authorized-internet-1049581. The posting time indicated is Arizona local time. Arizona does not observe daylight savings so the post time may be Mountain or Pacific depending on the time of year.
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text: FREE $200 Amazon gift card with purchase of select Ultrabooks Free + Free* Shipping See Deal Flag this deal Edit deal What's the matter? Choose a reason Dead deal Duplicate Bad link Spam Inaccurate No value Alive again Comments (1) munkin2u Nov 24, 2012 Can't they just give me the gift card for looking? :p Reply Cancel Load More Comments


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Yale School of Medicine, New Haven, CT
SESSION TITLE: Airway Cases II
SESSION TYPE: Medical Student/Resident Case Report
PRESENTED ON: Wednesday, October 30, 2013 at 11:30 AM - 12:30 PM
INTRODUCTION: Airway stabilization for severe symptomatic tracheobronchomalacia (TBM) may be accomplished by silicone Y-stent placement. Complications of the stent may include mucus plugging and the formation of granulation tissue. We describe management of a very rare case of pulsatile, life-threatening hemoptysis originating from the distal left mainstem bronchus adjacent to the bronchial limb of a Y-stent placed for TBM.
CASE PRESENTATION: A 65 year-old female presented to the ICU with massive hemoptysis 3 months after placement of a Y-stent for symptomatic TBM in which tracheobronchoplasty was not a viable treatment option. One month prior to her hemoptysis presentation, she underwent argon plasma coagulation (APC) to ablate granulation tissue. Following intubation, the bleeding source was bronchoscopically localized to the distal left mainstem bronchus and an endobronchial blocker was placed to stabilize the patient. She urgently underwent removal of the Y stent and a pulsatile vessel was identified as the bleeding source. This vessel was visualized just beyond the bronchial limb of the Y-stent in the distal left mainstem bronchus, proximal to the left hilum. Its pulsatile nature and location suggested an arterial source. Placement of oxidized cellulose (Surgicel, Ethicon) controlled the bleeding. Using two ureteral catheters tied in tandem, a synthetic sealant (CoSeal, Baxter) was then administered endobronchially at the site of bleeding. Placement of these catheters distally in the left mainstem enabled endobronchial mixing of the sealant for direct application at the bleeding site. She had no further hemoptysis, and follow-up bronchoscopy 3 weeks later demonstrated mucosal healing.
DISCUSSION: In the few cases of hemoptysis following Y-stent placement, the proposed mechanism is either local erosion or fistula formation.1In this case of pulsatile hemoptysis due to bleeding from an arterial source, we hypothesized that the oxidized cellulose provided sufficient hemostasis and the subsequent synthetic polymer (CoSeal) reinforced the tissue for complete cessation of the bleed. Removal of the stent minimized the risk of recurrent bleeding.
CONCLUSIONS: Massive hemoptysis complicating Y stent placement is rare. In addition to minimizing ongoing injury, a combination of endobronchial oxidized cellulose and a synthetic polymer provided long-term management for this potential life-threatening problem. Potentially morbid procedures such as embolization or surgery were avoided by advanced endobronchial therapy.
Reference #1: Oki, M and Saka, H. New Dedicated Bifurcated Silicone Stent Placement for Stenosis Around the Primary Right Carina. Chest. 2013 Mar 7. doi: 10.1378/chest.12-2834.
DISCLOSURE: The following authors have nothing to disclose: Changwan Ryu, Kyle Bramley, Daniel Boffa, Margaret Pisani, Jonathan Puchalski
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Petite Priss
While Makeup Artist is important on your special day, our beauty professionals offer so much more to ensure your day is amazing.
galina hair studio
The freelance artists at galina hair studio know how to create any look you can imagine with their expertise in Waxing.
Appalachian Spa
At Appalachian Spa in Minneapolis, we know exactly how to create any look you want with imaginative and professional Hair Stylist services.


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ED Magedson – Founder
Ripoff Report
Matthew WeisbergMorton St. Morton, Pennsylvania U.S.A.
Does your business have a bad reputation?
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Corporate Advocacy Program™
Matthew Weisberg Weisberg To The Rescue Morton PennsylvaniaFile a claim in small claims court immediately. Notify the Disciplinary Boards in N.J. and PA. Make the reports short, sweet and simple. Send letters to the ABA and other relevant organizations.
This report was posted on Ripoff Report on 06/09/2009 10:38 AM and is a permanent record located here: http://www.ripoffreport.com/reports/matthew-weisberg/morton-pennsylvania/matthew-weisberg-weisberg-to-the-rescue-morton-pennsylvania-460020. The posting time indicated is Arizona local time. Arizona does not observe daylight savings so the post time may be Mountain or Pacific depending on the time of year.
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My name is Sarah Alexina (Lexie) Henry Van Pelt and I grew up on the George McNutt farm 5 miles east of downtown Knoxville, Tennessee along the river. George McNutt settled the farm in the late 1700's and direct decendants have been on the farm since. There is a McNutt Family Cemetery on the farm. I have the information on all the family members buried there.
Other family members are buried in both Old Grey Cemetery, Lynnhurst Cemetery and Highland Memorial Cemetery. As I have time I will be adding these as well.
I have taken photos in Hillcrest Cemetery in Augusta, GA. I am not related to any of the ones I have added in Georgia so if one is your relative please let me know and I will be happy to transfer the memorial to you.
I would be happy to share information on my family. Anyone may use any picture that I have taken. I'm more than happy to contribute.
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Cathy Wood Osborn
McNutt Family
Dear Lexie, Thank you so very much for offering all of this information. I am a descendant of James McNutt and Mary Sharp. I believe James to be related to George McNutt (who m. Isabella Callison) in some way, but have not been able to figure it out yet. I manage a number of DNA profiles of McNutt descendants, and at least one of them matches a descendant of George). I would love to know if other McNutt descendants have tested their yDNA or autosomal DNA.
cathywoodosborn - gmail
Added by
Cathy Wood Osborn
on Mar 31, 2016 12:51 PM
Debbie Wallrapp
RE: White McNutt
I posted a picture for Rosa Chamberlin. I was at the cemetery the other day and looked for Anna Haas McNutt but didn't see her. I haven't been through the entire cemetery, so maybe I will come across her some day. Debi
Added by
Debbie Wallrapp
on May 30, 2015 1:34 PM
Debbie Wallrapp
RE: White McNutt
I found Rosa Chamberlin, wife of N. W, McNutt. You can't see the lettering very well. Anna Haas is already in find a grave. She is buried with Hermann Haas. Does this help? I haven't been to the cemetery in a while. I still have pictures to upload before I get more. Let me know if you need anything else.
Added by
Debbie Wallrapp
on May 18, 2015 10:12 AM
local graves
Hi Lexie,
In the Augusta area are Newman, Tucker, and a little bit of Groover and Pritchard. Do you ever go to Aiken County? I have a lot of gaps over there for Jack's and Barbara's relatives. That would include: Taylor, Cushman, Woodward, Odom, Dunkley, Shipes, Padgett and Hair.
Most of my mom's relatives are in south Georgia and my dad's too except a line from the Charleston area. Some of the Groovers and Pritchards moved to Augusta though.
Added by
on Sep 02, 2014 8:17 PM
Nancy Ziemba Gleaton
RE: Gannon/Hillcrest
When it comes to an obituary, "a native of..." generally means born there. By the same token, the city byline doesn't mean where they died, but it means where they resided. A friend who used to work at a newspaper told me this. That's one reason I don't use the byline city as the place of death, unless the obit specifically states they died in the same city.
Added by
Nancy Ziemba Gleaton
on Sep 16, 2013 3:29 PM
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Category:The Botanical Cabinet
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Pages in category "The Botanical Cabinet"
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text:
Latest Weather Blog
Diesel thieves "hacked" fuel pumps
Related Story
DUTCHTOWN- Ascension Parish deputies arrested a couple from Violet, after patrols spotted their suspicious van stealing diesel early Tuesday morning.
Deputies charged Brandon Angelety, 32, and his wife, Jairomeora Angelety, 30, with felony theft of diesel fuel.
Investigators said the pair were first spotted on surveillance footage at gas station in Gonzales, stealing 500 gallons of diesel.
"They were looking for the van because they hit the fuel stop in Gonzales, 5 or 6 weeks ago, so they were looking for it, I was just lucky they found them here," said Cathy Fouret, the manager at the Dutchtown Market, where deputies spotted the couple.
Investigators said the couple had about 200 gallons of diesel in several containers when they were found.
Fouret said the husband and wife team were able to crack into the fuel pump, using a key, enter in a special code on a pin pad and then pump gas for free.
"They had to have some kind of knowledge of the inside of the dispenser, because there's a pin pad with codes," said Fouret, "it's like a generic code that all companies use for their dispensers, we've changed ours, but he had to know the code and how it worked, to make the dispenser go on manual fuel and pump whatever he wanted."
The pair are suspected for other diesel thefts in the parish and could get additional charges.


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Explaining CrimeRowman & Littlefield Publishers 2009; US$ 33.00
This book provides a concise but comprehensive review of the full range of classic and contemporary theories of crime. With separate chapters on the nature and use of criminological theory as well as theoretical application, the authors render the difficult task of explaining crime more understandable to the introductory student. All of the main theories... more...
HeartlessSt. Martin's Press 2008; US$ 6.79
Neil seemed like a dream come true for Rachel: a handsome, impeccably mannered, success-oriented Englishman, the fairytale husband she had dreamed of meeting. By the time Neil and Rachel Entwistle were husband and wife, living the good life in a New England town, it was too late to guess the truth: that beneath Neil's good looks and manners was a... more...
American DesperadoCrown/Archetype 2011; US$ 17.00
The true story of super-criminal Jon Roberts, star of the documentary Cocaine Cowboys.� � American Desperado is Roberts? no-holds-barred account of being born into Mafia royalty, witnessing his first murder at the age of seven, becoming a hunter-assassin in Vietnam, returning to New York to become--at age 22--one of the city?s leading nightclub... more...
Light the DarknessHong Kong University Press, HKU 2001; US$ 40.00
The Hong Kong Red Cross is a voluntary organisation dedicated to the promotion of humanitarian work in Hong Kong. Over the years, members and volunteers of the Hong Kong Red Cross have worked tirelessly to provide assistance to people in need - appealing for donations in aid of victims, promoting blood drives as well as organizing volunteer activities. more...
Climate and Disaster Resilience in CitiesEmerald Group Publishing Limited 2011; US$ 131.99
This is the first book to combine academic research and field practice on urban risk reduction, specifically on the climate-related disasters in Asia. Regional, national, city and community-based studies examine issues of resilience and look at how to enhance actions at local levels and implement plans through multi-stakeholder collaboration. more...
Cultural Encyclopedia of LSDMcFarland & Company, Inc., Publishers 2011; US$ 55.00
Albert Hoffman first synthesized LSD on November 16, 1938. When he accidentally absorbed a small quantity through his fingertips in 1943, he began a wave of experimentation that would reach its cultural heights in the academic and political mischief of Timothy Leary, the "acid tests" of the Merry Pranksters, and the musical experimentation... more...
Safeguarding Adults in Social WorkSAGE Publications 2010; US$ 37.95
Safeguarding adults has a long history of neglect and scandal, but it is finally starting to gain the recognition it deserves. This book helps students and practitioners to understand this evolving field and to identify ways in which they can develop their own good practice. The first part of the book explores the evolution of concepts and... more...
Social Work with Drug and Substance MisusersSAGE Publications 2010; US$ 33.00
An up-to-date overview of social work practice with drug and substance misusers. more...
Researching Crime and JusticeTaylor and Francis 2013; US$ 49.95
This book provides an introduction to research and some of the methods in the field of crime and justice and related areas, including police, prisons and criminal justice policy making. Less a dry 'how to' book, it is concerned rather to provide a wide-ranging discussion that illustrates the kind of research that has been done in particular areas,... more...
Conscience of a Conspiracy TheoristAlgora Publishing 2011; US$ 22.95
Conscience of a Conspiracy Theorist seeks to show how governmental deceit and (corporate-controlled) media silence have combined to keep the public misinformed about shocking events in American history. In the process, skeptics who question the ?official accounts? are labeled ?conspiracy theorists,? a pejorative term that carries with it suggestions... more...


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As the homicide investigation surrounding Aaron Hernandez continues, a slightly related -- but largely more innocuous -- discovery has been made.
His dogs live in style.
On Saturday, Massachusetts state police officers -- both uniformed and plainclothes -- and a K-9 unit probed in and around the house of the Patriots' embattled tight end. One of the reporters on scene, Kevin Armstrong of the New York Daily News, revealed via Twitter a picture of Hernandez's enormous doghouse.
The two-story (really?) doghouse sits in the backyard of Hernandez's North Attleboro mansion, which has been the subject of investigation since one of Hernandez's "associates" was recently murdered.
It's unclear what lucky dog inhabits the digs, but he/she may have to share for the time being.
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|74 g
|Product type
|LED Torch
|Total length
|9 cm
|Power supply
|1 x AA Battery (Included)
The Gerber Recon Task Light is one of the most popular LED Torches sold by UkmcPro for Military application. A highly versatile and compact Torch that allows the user to select between 4 colour options by simply rotating the integrated filter on the head.
The name for this proprietary technology is D.I.A.L., standing for Diode Illumination Adjustable Lens. Basically, this new design lets you dial in the colour that'll serve you best: White for general situations, Red for preserving night vision, Blue for identifying fluids and Green for map reading.
The Gerber Recon Task Light can take all the abuse you can throw at it; with a body constructed of hard-anodized aluminum, a double o-ring seal, and a sealed circuit board.
It's all powered by 1 x AA batteries which come included with the Gerber Recon Task Light. It weighs just 2.6 ounces. Yet it delivers a Military ton of task-specific light, right when you need it.


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| Achong Tanjong |
ST ANDREW'S School managed to achieve a 96.40 per cent pass in this year's PSR examination with 49 out of 139 students obtaining 5A's. Photo shows the students in a group photo with the school principal and teachers.
© 2013 Borneo Bulletin Online - The Independent Newspaper in Brunei Darussalam, Sabah and Sarawak


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Item: ADN032
Moisturizes, nourishes and protects skin
Features DMAE, hyaluronic acid and more
Gluten free
1.7 fl oz (50 mL) Cream
This item is only available to ship within the 48 contiguous United States via ground transportation.
.28 lbs
Moisturizes, nourishes and protects skin
Features DMAE, hyaluronic acid and more
Gluten free
Hyaluronic DMAE Lift & Firm Cream from Andalou Naturals moisturizes, nourishes and protects skin. This formula features a fruit stem cell complex, DMAE, argan oil and hyaluronic acid to support skin health and texture. Suitable for dry and very dry skin. Vegan. Gluten and cruelty free. Non-GMO Project Verified.
"With my personal 100% money-back satisfaction guarantee, you have nothing to lose and great savings to gain."
Lee Swanson, Founder of Swanson Health Products
If you are dissatisfied for any reason, we'll give you a full refund and pay return shipping.
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1.7 fl oz (50 mL) Cream