Photos: Kaka country, 4 October 2012
Photos: Kaka acrobatics, 17 December 2011
The Government has ... decided to replace the present inadequate and temporary headquarters and studios in Wellington by a great broadcasting centre, which shall embody in it a national conservatorium for music and the spoken arts. It is anticipated that this institution will become the cultural centre of the Dominion for these arts, working in intimate relation with the artists in other centres, coordinating and organising whatever talent the Dominion may possess... We are not content with a poor standard on the football field and we should not be content with a poor standard in music and drama. We are assured by famous visitors from overseas that the talent is here, it needs stimulation, higher teaching, and organisation. Only broadcasting has the power to do this for New Zealand, and this the Government has recognised, hence the decision to establish this great broadcasting centre and conservatorium, which will be unique in the world's institutions... The congested conditions of the premises at headquarters at present make such developments impossible; the building of this broadcasting centre will therefore be proceeded with immediately, for it will probably take eighteen months to two years to build. It is of little use having such a powerful instrument as the new 60-kilowatt station at our disposal unless we ensure the necessary development of talent to be transmitted by it.
|The Transmission Station, estd. 1937|
|Twin masts crest|
|The National Broadcasting Service operated from 1936-62,|
when it was renamed the NZ Broadcasting Corporation (NZBC)
|Support wires on the transmitter mast|
|The current transmitter mast|
|James Shelley in 1931 (via DNZB)|
|The Duberlys & Bob (the horse)|
Crimea, 1855, by Roger Fenton
The 93rd and 42nd were drawn up on an eminence before the village of Balaklava. Our Cavalry were all retiring when I arrived, to take up position in rear of their own lines.
Looking on the crest of the nearest hill, I saw it covered with running Turks, pursued by mounted Cossacks, who were all making straight for where I stood, superintending the striking of our tent and the packing of our valuables.
Henry flung me on the old horse; and seizing a pair of laden saddle-bags, a great coat, and a few other loose packages, I made the best of my way over a ditch into a vineyard, and awaited the event ... Presently came the Russian Cavalry charging, over the hill-side and across the valley, right against the little line of Highlanders. Ah, what a moment! Charging and surging onward, what could that little wall of men do against such numbers and such speed? There they stood. Sir Colin [Campbell] did not even form them into a square. They waited until the horsemen were within range, and then poured a volley which for a moment hid everything in smoke. The Scots Greys and Inniskillens then left the ranks of our Cavalry, and charged with all their weight and force upon them, cutting and hewing right and left.
Not a man stirred, they stood like rocks till the Russian horses came within about thirty yards - Then one terrific volley - a sudden wheel - a piece of ground strewed with men and horses - when the Scots Gs & Royals bounding from the ranks dashed with their heavy horses on the mounted foe & hewed them down. Ten minutes more and not a live Russian was seen on that side of the hill...
A few minutes - moments as it seemed to me - and all that occupied that lately crowded spot were men and horses, lying strewn upon the ground. One poor horse galloped up to where we stood; a round shot had taken him in the haunch, and a gaping wound it made. Another, struck by a shell in the nostrils, staggered feebly up to [Fanny's beloved horse] Bob, suffocating from inability to breathe. He soon fell down. About this time reinforcements of Infantry, French Cavalry, and Infantry and Artillery, came down from the front, and proceeded to form in the valley on the other side of the hill over which the Russian Cavalry had come.
Such a goodly army as they were lying beneath us in the sunshine - with the Russian force half hidden behind the hill. Some wounded French soldiers came to us - Henry helped one poor fellow from his horse who was shot in the arm and another thro the thigh.
Now came the disaster of the day - our glorious and fatal charge. But so sick at heart am I that I can barely write of it even now. It has become a matter of world history, deeply as at the time it was involved in mystery. I only know that I saw Captain Nolan galloping; that presently the Light Brigade, leaving their position, advanced by themselves, although in the face of the whole Russian force, and under a fire that seemed pouring from all sides, as though every bush was a musket, every stone in the hillside a gun. Faster and faster they rode. How we watched them! They are out of sight; but presently come a few horsemen, straggling, galloping back. 'What can those skirmishers be doing? See, they form up together again. Good God! it is the Light Brigade!'
- Frances (Fanny) Duberly, Journal Kept During the Russian War, 1855, published 2nd edn. as Mrs Duberly's War, Christine Kelly ed., 2007.
From the commanding position in which I stood by the side of General Brite we saw the Light Brigade of Cavalry moving forward at a trot, in face of the Russian Army. 'Mon Dieu!!' said the fine old French General, 'Que vont-ils faire?' They went steadily on, as Englishmen only go under heavy fire. Artillery in front, on the right and left. When some thousand yards from the foremost of the enemy, I saw shells bursting in the midst of the Squadrons and men and horses strewed the ground behind them; yet on they went, and the smoke of the murderous fire poured on them, hid them from my sight.
The tears ran down my face, and the din of musketry pouring in their murderous fire on the brave gallant fellows rang in my ears. 'Pauvre garcon,' said the old French General, patting me on the shoulder. 'Je suis vieux, j'ai vu des batailles, mais ceci est trop.' Then the smoke cleared away and I saw hundreds of our poor fellows lying on the ground, the Cossacks and Russian Cavalry running them through as they lay, with their swords and lances.
- Henry Clifford VC, His Letters & Sketches from the Crimea, London, 1956, p.73.
As we drew nearer the guns from the front plied us liberally with grape and cannister, which brought down men and horses in heaps ... We were now very close to the guns, for we were entering the smoke which hung in clouds in front. I could see some of the gunners running from the guns to the rear, when just at that moment a shell from the battery on the right struck my horse carrying away the shoulder and part of the chest, and exploding a few yards off. Fortunately I was on the ground when it exploded, or some of the fragments would most likely have reached me ... I found my horse was lying on his near side, my left leg was beneath him ... I tried to move, but just at that moment I heard the second line come galloping on to where I lay, and fully expecting to be trampled on I looked up and saw it was the 4th Light Dragoons [in the third line] quite close. I called out "For God's sake, don't ride over me" ... After they had passed I ... stood up ... soon found there were numberless bullets flying around me ... our brigade had passed beyond the guns. The smoke had cleared, for the guns were silent enough now ... so that we could see a number of men making their way back ... The number of horses lying about was something fearful ... By this time the mounted were making their way back, as fast as they could, some singly, and some in parties of two or three ... There were several riderless horses galloping about the plain ... I was getting tired, for we had been out since 4 a.m. and had nothing to eat since the day before.
- Quoted in Clive Ponting, The Crimean War: The Truth Behind the Myth, London, 2004, p.136.
|Roger Fenton's famous 'Valley of Death' photo, Crimea, April 1855|
Outside on the terrace, the breeze was temperate and wild. Though the sun had yet to set, the house was lit from stem to stern as if to assure arriving guests that should the weather take a turn for the worst, we could all stay the night. Men in black tie conversed casually with the rubied and the sapphired and the sautoir de perles-ed. It was the same sort of familiar elegance that I had seen in July, only now it spanned three generations: Alongside the silver-haired titans kissing the cheeks of glamorous goddaughters were young rakes scandalising aunts with wry remarks sotto voce. A few stragglers from the beach with towels on their shoulders were making their way toward the house looking fit and friendly and not the least ill at ease for running late. Their shadows stretched across the grass in long, attenuated stripes.
A table at the edge of the terrace supported one of those pyramids where overflowing champagne from the uppermost glass cascades down the stems until all the glasses are filled. So as not to spoil the effect, the engineer of this thousand-dollar parlour trick produced a fresh glass from under the table and filled it for me.
Whatever Mr Hollingsworth's encouragements, there wasn't going to be much chance of my feeling at home. But Wallace had made such an effort, I was just going to have to splash some water on my face, trade up to gin, and throw myself into the mix.
-Amor Towles, Rules of Civility, London, 2011, p.201.
One night at the novel’s outset touches off the chain reaction that will produce both Katey’s career and her husband, and define her entire adult life. She’s swept into the satin-and-cashmere embrace of the smart set — blithe young people with names like Dicky and Bitsy and Bucky and Wallace — with their Oyster Bay mansions, their Adirondack camps, their cocktails at the St. Regis and all the fog of Fishers Island.- Liesl Schillinger, New York Times, 12 August 2011
He seized on the subway reportedly because of the variety of people who, for a nickel, put up with the underworld gloom and the racket of the steel-wheeled cars. He was especially drawn to the riders' expressions, the private preoccupied or daydreamy blankness that people often wear when left alone in public. "The guard is down and the mask is off," Evans wrote at the time, adding, "people's faces are in naked repose down in the subway." And the best way to catch them in the act of being themselves, he decided, was to take pictures without their knowledge.
- Terence Monmaney, Smithsonian Magazine, November 2004
5. If you cough, sneeze, sigh or yawn, do it not loud but privately, and speak not in your yawning, but put your handkerchief or hand before your face and turn aside.
13. Kill no vermin, or fleas, lice, ticks, etc. in the sight of others; if you see any filth or thick spittle put your foot dexterously upon it; if it be upon the clothes of your companions, put it off privately, and if it be upon your own clothes, return thanks to him who puts it off.
50. Be not hasty to believe flying reports to the disparagement of any.
90. Being set at meat scratch not, neither spit, cough or blow your nose except there's a necessity for it.
110. Labor to keep alive in your breast that little spark of celestial fire called conscience.
|Michelle Blundell (c) Bats|