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  • Meant to do this earlier, but I can barely keep my eyes open even now… Just to let you know (and I’m not implying that you’d give a damn, so don’t do that face), I haven’t quit, all is ok and I’ll be back again a little later. I just started work at the Botanical Garden again, and though I’ve enjoyed it a lot, I’ve also been absolutely exhausted when I get home. Tumblr doesn’t quite work when you can’t think of anything other than “huuuurtsss” and “sleep”. See you later, I hope. Might do a fascinating in-depth analysis of how my life during summers versus winters seem to belong to two completely different creatures.


    Lost photos from a honeymoon in England, 1939

    In April of 1939, England was on the brink of World War II and Margaret and Denys Gardiner were getting married. For their honeymoon the newlyweds, along with their cat Edgar, drove around the English countryside in their Morris 8 convertible, just before the world erupted into war.

    The road trip took took the couple from Hyde Park in London, to the Flamborough Cliffs of Yorkshire, to the beautiful towns of Lincoln and Boston in Lincolnshire. Finally, in the last photo, the couple can be seen riding off into the sunset in Norfolk.

    On September 1, only a few days after their trip ended, Hitler invaded Poland. On September 3rd, Great Britain declared war on Germany. 

    Denys, who was 23, did not fight in WWII. Along with a birth defect that “gave him less than the recommended number of toes,” Denys suffered from severe tuberculosis as a child and thus remained in England as part of the Home Guard. Margaret, aged 26, was trained as a nurse and worked in aid stations and hospitals during WWII. 

    The photos, thought to be lost for the last 75 years, were recently found by the couple’s grandson, Barney Britton, while cleaning out his grandmother’s attic. They were shot in color — a novelty at the time — using 35mm Agfacolor film.

    Expected by many to die young, including himself, Denys lived to be 79 and died in 1995. Margaret lived to be 100 and died in February of this year. (x)

    (via theodoradove)

    i want a word for the almost-home.

    that point where the highway’s monotony becomes familiar
    that subway stop whose name will always wake you from day’s-end dozing
    that first glimpse of the skyline
    that you never loved until you left it behind.

    what do you call the exit sign you see even in your dreams?
    is there a name for the airport terminal you come back to,
    comfortably exhausted?

    i need a word for rounding your corner onto your street,
    for seeing your city on the horizon,
    for flying homewards down your highway.

    give me a word for the boundary
    between the world you went to see
    and the small one you call your own.

    i want a word for the moment you know
    you’re almost home.

    —    there and back again, n.m.h.  (via commanderspock)

    (via titanianna)

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