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#georgian — Public Fediverse posts

Live and recent posts from across the Fediverse tagged #georgian, aggregated by home.social.

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  1. Orange wine and mezcal mingle in this smoky, Georgian-inspired drink A smoky, refreshing highball inspired by Georgia’s amber wines and qvevri winemaking tradition (large clay vessels buried… #food #cocktails #georgian

    theguardian.com/food/2026/jul/

    Posted into Cocktails & Wines 🍹🍷 @cocktails-wines-Econopass

  2. Orange wine and mezcal mingle in this smoky, Georgian-inspired drink A smoky, refreshing highball inspired by Georgia’s amber wines and qvevri winemaking tradition (large clay vessels buried… #food #cocktails #georgian

    theguardian.com/food/2026/jul/

    Posted into FLIPBOARD EXCHANGE FEED 🗞️ @flipboard-exchange-feed-Econopass

  3. "#MichailChkhikvishvili, a #Georgian national also known as “#CommanderButcher,” has been sentenced to 15 years in #prison by U.S. #DistrictJudge #CarolBagleyAmon in federal court in #Brooklyn for soliciting #hatecrimes and distributing instructions to make #bombs and #ricin.

    #Chkhikvishvili is a leader of #ManiacMurderCult, an international racially motivated violent #extremist group that is also known as “Maniacs Murder Cult,” “Maniacs: Cult of Killing,” “#MKY,” “MMC,” and “MKU.” Chkhikvishvili recruited others to commit violent acts in furtherance of MKY’s ideologies, including planning and soliciting a #masscasualty #attack in #NewYorkCity. He was extradited from #Moldova to the Eastern District of #NewYork in May 2025 and pleaded guilty in November.

    “Chkhikvishvili, a leader of the ‘Maniacs Murder Cult,’ repeatedly called for the murder of innocent civilians, including children, and schemed to attack and terrorize #Jewish communities and racial #minorities..."

    hstoday.us/subject-matter-area

  4. "#MichailChkhikvishvili, a #Georgian national also known as “#CommanderButcher,” has been sentenced to 15 years in #prison by U.S. #DistrictJudge #CarolBagleyAmon in federal court in #Brooklyn for soliciting #hatecrimes and distributing instructions to make #bombs and #ricin.

    #Chkhikvishvili is a leader of #ManiacMurderCult, an international racially motivated violent #extremist group that is also known as “Maniacs Murder Cult,” “Maniacs: Cult of Killing,” “#MKY,” “MMC,” and “MKU.” Chkhikvishvili recruited others to commit violent acts in furtherance of MKY’s ideologies, including planning and soliciting a #masscasualty #attack in #NewYorkCity. He was extradited from #Moldova to the Eastern District of #NewYork in May 2025 and pleaded guilty in November.

    “Chkhikvishvili, a leader of the ‘Maniacs Murder Cult,’ repeatedly called for the murder of innocent civilians, including children, and schemed to attack and terrorize #Jewish communities and racial #minorities..."

    hstoday.us/subject-matter-area

  5. Tuesday, May 5, 2026

    Russian losses in Ukraine may have set a grim new record -- Belarus develops military training grounds and logistics routes in cooperation with Russia -- Ukraine reportedly strikes Russian Shahed, Iskander component facility, major oil refinery amid large-scale attack -- Russia launches more than 10 times as many drones at Ukraine's port infrastructure in 2026 as last year ... and more

    activitypub.writeworks.uk/2026

  6. Tuesday, May 5, 2026

    Russian losses in Ukraine may have set a grim new record -- Belarus develops military training grounds and logistics routes in cooperation with Russia -- Ukraine reportedly strikes Russian Shahed, Iskander component facility, major oil refinery amid large-scale attack -- Russia launches more than 10 times as many drones at Ukraine's port infrastructure in 2026 as last year ... and more

    activitypub.writeworks.uk/2026

  7. We are home! I have zero plans this weekend other than decompress from my vacation.

    What are you doing this weekend?

    #AmReading @bookstodon #ReadingCommunity #Regency #Georgian @romancelandia #JaneAusten

  8. Very loyal and very well-oiled: the thread about the Edinburgh Revolution Club

    Today’s Auction House Artefact is a 1753 medal from the Edinburgh Revolution Club. This club was not the sticky-floored nightclub on Chambers Street, but a club for Loyalist, Unionist, Protestant and Whig gentlemen to indulge in drinking and singing in the 18th century city and following its thread gives us an insight into prevailing sentiment amongst the upper tier of society at that time. Apparently these medals were the last objects ever struck at the old Edinburgh Mint.

    Medallion of the Edinburgh Revolution Club. Front reads “Meminisse Iuvabit”, abbreviated from Virgil’s Aeneid it means, “one day, perhaps, it will be pleasing even to remember these things”.

    The Revolution the club refers to is of course the “Glorious” one of 1688. This is why the medal has on its reverse “In Commemoration of the Recovery of Their Religion and Liberty By King William & Queen Mary anno 1688“. In a particularly Scottish context, the events of 1688 precipitated a short-lived Jacobite uprising (the first of a number of these) and it displaced Episcopalianism and re-established Presbyterianism in the Kirk. The front of the medal shows an imperious looking King William III (of Orange), being adored by the seated ladies of Justice and Religion, having chased away the Medusa-headed tyranny and knocked the mitre off of Popery; i.e. he has deposed Catholicism, King James and the House of Stuart.

    The club claimed to have been founded by “a number of Scots Gentlemen who attended [the Prince of Orange] from Holland” in 1688, but the first reporting of its activities is not until 1746 – apparently a revival by descendents of the founders. It is quite probable that this was a reaction amongst the powered class in the city after the final failure of the 1745 Jacobite uprising that had briefly held the city. The club’s first annual soiree was on 4th November 1747 when it met on the birthday of William. Proceedings started with a suitably Presbyterian sermon by the Rev. Alexander Webster at the New Kirk (the most senior of the kirks in the subdivided St. Giles) before adjourning to the Duke’s Head tavern to drink “many loyal and revolution toasts“. The Newcastle Courant reported the attendance was so high that not everyone could fit in the establishment. The fourth of November would become the annual climax of the club’s activities.

    “A Sleepy Congregation”: 1785 caricature engraving by John Kay. The Rev Dr Alexander Webster preaches to his congregation within St Giles.

    The corpus of the club selected itself from applicants who had written to its committee by “leaving a letter at the bar of the Royal Exchange Coffee House“. By 1748 it had 230 members who constituted a who’s who of power and class in the city (and indeed Scotland); “persons of the first distinction and some ministers” – nobility, gentlemen, senior military officers, judges in the court of Session and Exchequer, the Lord Provost and Magistrates. Club members were issued with a “diploma” which they were expected to carry “In their pockets” to all meetings. (Apparently they had trouble with unwelcome interlopers.)

    Diploma of the Edinburgh Revolution Club. © Battle of Falkirk Muir (1746) Trust via https://www.falkirkmuir1746.scot/PersonalItems

    In 1750 it is reported to have been holding its functions in the Assembly Rooms, which were at that time on the West Bow. As had been established, on the anniversary of King William’s birthday some 300 members met there for the usual array of toasts and patriotic songs.

    (Old) Assembly Rooms, West Bow, James Skene, 1817. © Edinburgh City Libraries

    If you didn’t know the words, the club published their own song book, “A Collection of Loyal Songs“, yours for 6 pence. This included such ditties as “Great William of Nassau, who sav’d us from Rome” (to the tune of “The Nun to the Abbess“); “Your glasses charge high, ’tis in brave William’s Praise” (music by Mr Handel); “Plaid-Hunting” (tune, “Packington Pounds“) and a variant of Rule Britannia.

    Frontispiece, “A Collection of Loyal Songs for the Use of the Revolution Club”. Edinburgh, Printed by A. Donaldson and J. Reid, 1761. Price six pence.

    1755’s meeting was advertised: “in commemoration of our happy deliverance from popery and slavery by King William of glorious and immortal memory, and of the further security of our religion and liberties by the settlement of the crown upon the illustrious house of Hanover.” All the newspaper reporting of the club’s activities went something like that…

    “Drinking a Toast”, Thomas Rowlandson. CC-by-NC National Galleries Scotland

    In 1758, in addition to the Fourth of November function, they had a second bash – meeting on January 24th to celebrate the birthday of King Frederick II of Prussia (“The Great”) and to celebrate his recent victories in the Third Silesian War. And on 26th April they had another knees up, this time for the birthday of the Duke of Cumberland, at the house of John Clearihue, Vintner. Bearing in mind this club contained all the movers, shakers and powerful men of the city you can get an idea of some of the prevailing local attitudes to the events of the ’45 a decade before…

    In the 1760s and 1770s, the committee of the club met annually in John’s Coffee House. This was one of the premier such establishments in the city, a place where much commercial and legal business was conducted and which had a prime spot in the northeast corner of Parliament Square.

    John’s Coffee House, from “The Parliament Close and Public Characters of Edinburgh, Fifty Years Since” © Museums and Galleries Edinburgh

    At the 1773 November celebration, in the chair was Sir James Adolphus Oughton, Commander-in-Chief of the Army in “North Britain” and a big wheel in the masons (like many men in the Revolution Club and powerful positions in the city in general). Sir James proposed in future that “to retain and cherish in the minds of the people a just sense of the important advantages derived to them from the Glorious Revolution” that future meetings should once again begin with a sermon at the kirk before a ceremonial procession to the knees-up. While all were in favour of this idea and agreed to do it next year, it seems they forgot about the going to church bit as the Caledonian Mercury reported that they hadn’t bothered and instead had gone straight to the Assembly Hall for the drinking and singing.

    Sir James Adolphus Oughton, possibly by John Downman, 1778. CC-by-NC National Galleries Scotland

    Something revolutionary in 1776 clearly rattled the Club, it implored members “in and about town to take at this critical juncture this opportunity to testifying their well known attachment to his Majesty’s family and government“. I can’t think what that might have been but it might have had something to do with colonial matters… This year saw a swelling of the membership after dwindling attendances in previous years. A letter written to the Caledonian Mercury reported that on the “sound of a trumpet“, the club would now toast:

    “Fame, let thy TRUMPET sound; Tell all the world around, GREAT GEORGE is KING.”

    Events continued in the manner to which it was accustomed, and was at its peak in the year 1788 to celebrate the centenary of its namesake revolution. A great banquet was thrown in the Hall of Parliament House on the 22nd December (price 5/-), with 3-400 members in attendance. It was noted with some degree of irony that the last great banquet held in that hall was in 1680 for the then Duke of York, later King James VII – the very man the Revolution Club celebrate the deposing of! (that £1400 publicly-funded shindig left the city heavily in debt). The Club drank a huge array of toasts, from the King and all his relations all the way down to the Students of the University, the prosperity of the British Fisheries and finally to the “Land of Cakes“, that is, Scotland. House of Hanover? House of Hangover more like!

    The great banquet in Parliament Hall thrown for King George IV in 1842. Drawn and engraved by William Home Lizars. CC-by-NC National Galleries Scotland

    After that sesh to end all seshes, things went back to a more normal pace. In 1790 it was the Earl of Hopetoun in the chair and they were meeting in the newly completed Merchant Company Hall on Hunter’s Square. But while it seemed otherwise to be in good health, after 1793 it completely disappears from the newspapers. An interesting publication in 1792 might give us an insight into things. On the face of it it seems suitably sycophantically loyal;

    His Majesty’s Proclamation of the Twenty First of May 1792, To which is Added an Address to the Revolution Club, by Gibbie Burnet”.

    Gibbie Burnet, or “Gossiping Gibbie“, was Gilbert Burnet, one of King William III’s closest Scottish advisers. The problem was he had been dead for almost 80 years… His name here was being used as a satirical nom de plume and the address was actually a very clever and excoriating attack on the Club, and Hanoverian and Orange loyalty in Scotland in general, stimulated by suggestions at this time of raising public monuments to King William III in the country. The attack took the form of an invitation to the Revolution Club, indeed a challenge, to put their money, where their mouths, their songs and their toasts were, and finance a monument to William – and to build it in the middle of Glencoe!

    “Glencoe, 1692.” John Blake MacDonald, Royal Scottish Academy of Art & Architecture

    It rattled off a long list of government atrocities and failures in Scotland since 1688 (both Scottish and British; Orange and Hanoverian) and dared the club to put them on the public monument alongside the name of its hero William; the Darien Scheme; the ejection of Catholics (Mary and William may appear in the background enjoying the scene); the costly failures of the British Army in Flanders. You can read the full thing for yourself here . While this single publication may not have ended the Club, it’s a clear indication that the wind of public attitudes to the events of the preceding 100 years were somewhat changeable…

    Suggested inscription for the Revolution Club’s King William III monument in Glencoe

    After that the club seems to disappear from the records. No more meetings advertised or reported… Which is slightly odd as before then it has left a not inconsiderable trove of medals and diplomas, e.g. the one below from 1775. Who knows why it folded; perhaps it was something to do with the flight to the New Town around this time by the great and the good of the city? Perhaps it was a case of an older social order dying out and a new one taking its place. Perhaps having a “Revolution Club” sounded like a bad idea in the context of what happened in America in 1776 and France in 1789… or perhaps they were just sick of all the drinking and singing…

    Edinburgh Revolution Club medal, 1775. Back says “Unanimity, Stability & Freedom”, hands shaking over an anchor and a “liberty cap” atop a pole or pike.

    Note to readers: unfortunately in April 2026, a third-party plug-in more than exceeded its authority and broke many of the image links on this site. No images were lost but I will have to restore them page-by-page, which may take some time. In the meantime please bear with me while I go about rectifying this issue.

    If you have found this site useful, informative or amusing then you can help contribute towards its running costs by supporting me on ko-fi. This includes my commitment to keeping it 100% advert and AI free for all time coming, and in helping to find further unusual stories to bring you by acquiring books and paying for research.
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    #Lochend #Logan #Restalrig #StMargaret
  9. The thread about Marionville; the house that thread built and home to the unfortunate “Fortunate Duellist”

    This thread was originally written and published in November 2019. It has been lightly edited and corrected as applicable for this post.

    There’s an old Georgian villa in the east of Edinburgh called Marionville. It lends its name to the district, a few streets and a fire station. It’s your typical regular, 3-storey, 5-bay, 6-over-6 window, sandstone job and although it is quite a rarity in a largely 20th century part of town, at first glance it is otherwise unremarkable for Edinburgh.

    Marionville. Cc-BY-SA Kim Traynor

    Unremarkable that is until you find out a little bit about the place’s history! It was built some time between the 1760s and 1780s by the Misses Ramsay of Old Lyon Close, milliners renowned in the burgh for their ribboned hats. When built it was called Viewfrith (as in a house where one could view the Frith, or Firth of Forth. On account of its occupants trade, it was scornfully nicknamed the Lappet Ha‘, lappet referring to the woven lacework that was common in Georgian women’s hats. Ha’ for ball; the house that lappet built. The misses Ramsay saw out their days in their fine house and its gardens, and in October 1780 it was noted as being for sale:

    Sale notice for Viewfrith, Caledonian Mercury, October 16 1780

    About 1786 it passed to one James Macrae of Holmains Esq. who liked to be known as Captain Macrae on account of his service in the 6th Dragoon Guards (Irish Carabiniers), a Hanoverian cavalry regiment. By accounts he was both a sophisticated, cultured charmer and an arrogant, pompous “Goth“. It was Macrae who renamed the house, calling it for his wife, Maria Cecile le Maistre.

    Uniforms of horsemen of the Irish Carabiniers (6th Dragoon Guards)

    Captain Macrae had a quick temper and an overinflated sense of his own status. He was nicknamed the “fortunate duellist” on account of his propensity to call for satisfaction and on not being dead as a result. He practised by firing at a barber’s block kept specially for the purpose, or so John Kay caricatured him.

    “The Fortunate Duellist”: caricature of Captain Macrae with an inset image of him practising duelling with the barber’s block, from “Original Portraits and Caricature Etchings” by John Kay, 1799

    The Macraes soon built up a reputation as a home of the “gayest private theatricals, perhaps in Britain“. Being wealthy and aspirational with tastes “gay and fashionable” they had a 150-seat private theatre built, complete with stage, curtain and scenery in the house where the couple themselves took the starring roles. The great and the good of Edinburgh were invited and the shows were a hot ticket in town, being well reviewed in the papers. The Scots Magazine and Caledonian Mercury were full of gushing praise for them.

    Edinburgh Advertiser, May 9 1789

    Maria Macrae was the daughter of the Swedish ambassador’s wife and had spent time in Paris with her cousins. It was there she got a taste for the private theatricals of the time and it was she who was chiefly responsible for reproducing them at Marionville. The Macrae’s inner circle was a centre of Georgian high fashion in Edinburgh, the women wore head-dresses so tall that they had to “sit on the carriage floor” and the men wore “bright coats with tails to their heels” and “wigs with great side curls“. The innermost of their circle were the Ramsays (no relation to the Misses), Sir George Ramsay of Bamff, 6th Baronet and his wife, Eleanor Fraser. They were “warmly attached and intimate” with the Macraes.

    An engraving of Marionville in happier times from Old & New Edinburgh by James Grant.

    So all was good. Everyone was happy and Marionville was the place to be seen around town. Macrae was highly regarded in the right circles, but his pomposity and temper would be his unravelling. An example of this was when a messenger of the law tried to arrest his cousin, the Reverend John Cunningham, Earl Glencairn, at a private party in Drumsheugh House. Macrae was outraged that a common man would insult a gentleman, and threw the messenger over the stairwell. When it later came to light that Cunningham was a debtor who had refused all chance to settle his obligations and that the messenger had been gravely injured, Macrae made an apology and paid compensation of 300 guineas to settle the matter.

    And then we come to the fateful night of April 7th 1790. Captain Macrae had been out at the Theatre Royal, which stood on Shakespeare Square, opposite the General Register Office and where the General Post Office would later be built. Being a gentleman, he was helping a lady to get a chair to convey her home (this meant a sedan chair; at this time were still the principal form of public transport of choice for the moneyed classes around town). He had secured the lady her chair when a liveried footman appeared on the scene and seized one of the poles of the chair to reserve it for his mistress. The outraged Macrae rapped the impertinent servant’s knuckles with his cane.

    The Theatre Royal on Shakespeare Square, the corner of Princes Street, North Bridge, Leith Street and what is now Waterloo Place. John Le Conte, 1857. Credit; Edinburgh City Libraries

    The footman, not to be cowed, denounced Macrae as a scoundrel and punched him in the chest. Macrae responded by striking him across the head with his cane. An almighty fracas ensued, sucking in passers-by on both sides. Somehow the conflict was defused and the lady was spirited to safety in another chair. And there it might have ended until Macrae was made aware that the footman in question was an employee of his dear friend, Sir George Ramsay.

    A Georgian cartoon of a drunken gentleman fighting with a coachman and footman. Isaac Cruikshank, 1809. © The Trustees of the British Museum

    And so, the following day Macrae sought out Ramsay at his place of business. His friend informed him that the servant in question was recently engaged by his wife and he felt that he had no hand in the matter. Macrae insisted that he would therefore apologise to the lady at once. Hurrying to the Ramsay’s house on St. Andrew Square, he found her sitting for an up and coming your artist, one Henry Raeburn. Theatrically going down on one knee, Macrae begged forgiveness for having chastised her servant. And there it would have ended. But…

    A few days later at Marionville, an anonymous letter arrived stating that Macrae had meddled with the “Knights of the Shoulder Knot” (the name given to footmen for their elaborate uniforms) and they would have their revenge for the insult to their brother. The footman in question, James Merry, took the matter further by making it known he would take legal proceedings against his assailant for the injuries he had suffered. Piqued, Macrae wrote to Ramsay and demanded that the man be put in his place and discharged. For whatever reason, Ramsay declined to satisfy his friend and their relationship quickly soured as the two engaged in a protracted series of increasingly intemperate letters. This culminated in Macrae having his messenger inform Ramsay that he was not a gentleman, but a scoundrel!

    Georgian caricature of a foppish, arrogant footman. George Moutard Woodward, 1799. © The Trustees of the British Museum

    That was that! Macrae had overstepped the mark for sure, Ramsay was a proper gentleman, with a title, not someone you could go around insulting. The intermediary, one Captain Amory, arranged a meeting of both parties in Bayle’s Tavern at which “rough epithets were exchanged“. The outcome was inevitable and satisfaction was demanded by Macrae. But he let it be known that he considered Ramsay the challenger, for refusing to deal with his servant.

    The time and place was set for the shore outside of Musselburgh at noon the next day. What better place to settle your differences than in the cool sea breeze of the Honest Toun? And so it was that the next day the two gentlemen, each with another in tow as second, met at Wards Inn off of the Musselburgh Links. A surgeon, Benjamin Bell, was sensibly arranged for.

    Benjamin Bell (left), following a different duelist on his way to Musselburgh to settle a score. Bell must have been the go-to man for calling to a duel. The woman heading the other way is a salter, carrying her load in a basket, supported by a leather strap around her head. From John Kay’s caricatures, Vol. 2. Credit; Edinburgh City Libraries

    A parlay took place to see if things could be settled amicably, without either side losing face. Macrae demanded that if Ramsay dismiss his servant he would apologise profusely for all that had followed and consider it closed. Ramsay demanded an apology first, before any further progress could be made. Both sides were intransigent. The seconds which each side had brought as counsel declined further compromise and the course of action was now set. Each man took a pistol from a pair and made his way to the allotted spot on the Links. Each then walked 14 paces away from the other and the duel commenced. Ramsay shot first and nicked the collar of his late friend, grazing the neck. Macrae did not miss and Ramsay was mortally wounded. Macrae would later claim that he had planned to shoot high and miss on purpose, but was so outraged that Ramsay had not deliberately missed and had drawn blood that he decided to settle the matter once and for all by not missing. For a sure shot like Macrae, the outcome was inevitable.

    “The Duel”, a cartoon in the style of Kay by amateur Edinburgh artist J. Jenkins in 1805. CC-BY 4.0 National Library of Scotland

    The deed done, Macrae was suddenly remorseful and had to be convinced to leave his dying friends’ side by Ramsay’s second, Sir William Maxwell. Edinburgh society was outraged and it was Macrae, the lower status gentleman that they squarely blamed for this calamity. Being a proper class scandal, the detail was all printed at the time (then, as now, controversy was good for sales) and Macrae was immortalised as “The Fortunate Duellist” by Edinburgh caricaturist John Kay. By trade Kay was a barber, so the story of the practice target may have appealed to him as much as the chance to satirise events.

    Facing a potential murder charge, Macrae abandoned Marionville and his family and fled to Paris accompanied by his second, Captain Amory. They took up lodgings in the Hôtel de la Dauphine. A summons soon arrived from Edinburgh to return and face the law. Ignoring it, both were declared outlaws and consigned themselves to live out their days in exile. To add insult to Macrae’s injury, 2 years later the Sheriffs awarded damages and compensation to the footman for his original injuries, which were paid from Macrae’s estate in his absence. Macrae stayed in Paris until the coming of the French revolution compelled his to flee further, this time to Altona in Italy. He had hoped that the passage of time would allow him to return home to Marionville, but society and the law were resolved against it.

    And so it was that the gayest house in town fell into “an air of depression and melancholy such as could barely fail to strike the most unobservant passenger“. It was advertised as being to let in 1793 and the following year it was for sale. Macrae was soon forgotten by the chattering classes of Edinburgh. That is until 1814, when publisher Robert Chambers relates that “a gentleman of my acquaintance was surprised to meet him one day in a Parisian coffee house“. “The wreck or ghost of the handsome, sprightly man he had once been.” “The comfort of his home, his country and his friends, the use of his talents to all these, had been lost, and himself obliged to lead the life of a condemned Cain, all through the one fault of a fiery temper“.

    Captain Macrae, late of Marionville, died alone in Paris on the 16th January 1820, 30 years an exile from his home, wife and 2 children. “Captain Macrae was a strange character. To those of his own class a tyrant and bully. To those below him he was kind and obliging”. At this time his old house was in the possession of a Mr and Mrs Dudgeon although it was for sale again shortly after, the new owner being Walter Stirling Glas, esq. The house was repeatedly for sale and let throughout the 19th century. A flick through some old Post Office directories enlightens us that from approximately 1858 to 1869, it was being used by Dr. Guthrie’s “Original Ragged Industrial School” .

    In 1932, Marionville was purchased by the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Edinburgh and St. Andrews for use as the manse for St. Ninian’s & Triduana’s Church, which was built in the grounds at this time. Its last occupant before the church took it over would appear to be one Miss W. Crawford Brown and the house  was sold back into private use within the past few years. The church, which was never actually completed to the intended design, is surprisingly the work of that most British of British architects, Sir Giles Gilbert Scott (of red telephone box and Battersea power station fame).

    St. Ninian’s & Triduana’s R.C. church in the grounds of Marionville.

    Note to readers: unfortunately in April 2026, a third-party plug-in more than exceeded its authority and broke many of the image links on this site. No images were lost but I will have to restore them page-by-page, which may take some time. In the meantime please bear with me while I go about rectifying this issue.

    If you have found this site useful, informative or amusing then you can help contribute towards its running costs by supporting me on ko-fi. This includes my commitment to keeping it 100% advert and AI free for all time coming, and in helping to find further unusual stories to bring you by acquiring books and paying for research.
    Or please do just share this post on social media or amongst friends and like-minded people, sites like this thrive on being shared.

    Explore Threadinburgh by map:

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    These threads © 2017-2026, Andy Arthur.

    NO AI TRAINING: Any use of the contents of this website to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.

    #Lochend #Logan #Restalrig #StMargaret