Southampton Quotes

It's sad to fall asleep. It separates people. Even when you're sleeping together, you're all alone.

Southampton's barrage balloons floated gleaming in the moonlight like the ghosts of elephants and hippos.

I gave the wretched beast a look that said plainly I’ll deal with you later. He flicked his tail at me, cat-speak for Do I look like I’m bothered?

God. How would I cope if I went to jail? I'd never even been to boarding school.

Southampton Row, however, is chiefly remarkable nowadays for the fact that you will always find a man there trying to sell a tortoise to a tailor.

And what else did Christianity accomplish?” he said. “Here’s what Christianity accomplished. Christianity accomplished the mob. The mob. It accomplished not only your senseless butchery, the extermination of all those involved in it, black and white, but the horror of lawless retaliation and reprisal—one hundred and thirty-one innocent niggers both slave and free cut down by the mob that roamed Southampton for a solid week, searching vengeance. I reckon you didn’t figure on that neither back then, did you, Reverend?

Life is really like a ship–the interior of a ship, that is. It has watertight compartments. You emerge from one, seal and bolt the doors, and find yourself in another. My life from the day we left Southampton to the day we returned to England was one such compartment. Ever since that I have felt the same about travel. You step from one life into another. You are yourself, but a different self. The new self is untrammelled by all the hundreds of spiders’ webs and filaments

Well, that went well,” I muttered to my cock, which had optimistically jumped up when I did. All pumped up with nowhere to go. I took it for a shower and gave it a few strokes to make it feel better, but it wasn’t fooled. It knew it was just my hand tugging on it.

I've never sailed the Amazon, I've never reached Brazil; But the Don and Magdalena, They can go there when they will! Yes, weekly from Southampton, Great steamers, white and gold, Go rolling down to Rio (Roll down—roll down to Rio!) And I'd like to roll to Rio Some day before I'm old! I've never seen a Jaguar, Nor yet an Armadill O dilloing in his armour, And I s'pose I never will, Unless I go to Rio These wonders to behold Roll down—roll down to Rio Roll really down to Rio! Oh, I'd love to roll to Rio Some day before I'm old!

The fog crept in from the sea, suffocating the city. It descended like an invading army, consuming landmarks, choking out the moonlight, rendering Southampton a strange and unnerving place.

Beware of the insipid vanities and idle dissipations of the metropolis of England; Beware of the unmeaning luxuries of Bath and of the stinking fish of Southampton." "Alas! (exclaimed I) how am I to avoid those evils I shall never be exposed to? What probability is there of my ever tasting the dissipations of London, the luxuries of Bath, or the stinking fish of Southamption?...

If I really cared about Matt, I wouldn’t want him to be unhappy. And I was fairly sure that mourning the untimely death of a live-in lover was likely to be a bit of a downer, at least for a day or two.

Such was the vainglory of a black boy who may have been alone among his race in bondage to have actually read pages from Sir Walter Scott and who knew the product of nine multiplied by nine, the name of the President of the United States, the existence of the continent of Asia, the capital of the state of New Jersey, and could spell words like Deuteronomy, Revelation, Nehemiah, Chesapeake, Southampton, and Shenandoah.

in the winter of 1902 a dysentery epidemic brought by a sailor on the whaling ship Active killed 51 out of the 56 Sadlermiut Eskimos, a very isolated band of people living on Southampton Island in the Canadian Arctic.

Feeling inspired, I grabbed one of Jay’s cookbooks from the kitchen shelf and flicked through until I found a recipe for something I recognised. Lasagna. That was just pasta, and pasta was easy, right? Trying not to be put off by the list of ingredients longer than my small intestine, I scanned the instructions. Chop onions… I could do that. Brown mince…trickier but manageable. Probably. Make a roux in the usual way… I sighed, shut the book with a snap and went off to make dinner in my usual way: pierce film; bung in microwave; wait for bell.

He wished to kneel beside him and pray. It was not shyness prevented him from doing it on Southampton railway station...It was the fear of being overcome with emotion. This was his flaw, the crack in his clay, and the more dreadful for being so unexpected...

It is, as calls to arms go, straightforward. Crystal clear. And if you aren’t looking forward to Spurs and Kazan, to Southampton and Bournemouth, if that just doesn’t get you going, wanting to be emotional, unashamedly emotional, optimistic, passionate in a way that outsiders love to mock and our own meek minded souls call 'embarrassing' then you know what? There’s the door. There is the door, and you can walk through it, and both you and us will be happier for that. Because, for ninety minutes every few days, this fella represents Liverpool, eleven lads wearing Red represent Liverpool and we represent Liverpool. Wherever we are on globe, with an even greater responsibility if we are in the stadium.

[...] The idea of honor in battle has been passed down for generations. It went from Greece to Rome, to the medieval world and the Crusades. It was beloved of Sir Philip Sidney, Essex and Southampton [...]. In many ways, the British Empire was founded on it [...] The idea came to a halt in the First World War [...] The poets, led by Wilfred Owen, told the truth about it "[...] The old lie : 'Dulce el decorum est pro patria mori'. [...]Henry IV Part I is a play with much "honor". Honor is its central theme. So let's examine Henry IV Part I for a moment, to understand the ingredients of "honor". [...] You will notice there are not many women in these plays [about honor]-and when they appear, they are usually whores or faifthful wives. Honor is not a woman's story[...] 'What is honour? A word', (...) a mere scutcheon" [says] Falstaff's iconoclasm and truthful vision about honor. {...]There are several things we can see in all this. The first is that war is a man´s game, it is intolerable, and the only way you can get people to do it is to make the alternative seem a hundred times worse [...] Therefore, valor must be glorified, if not deified. [...]

Nat Turner’s rebellion in Southampton County, Virginia, in the summer of 1831, threw the slaveholding South into a panic, and then into a determined effort to bolster the security of the slave system. Turner, claiming religious visions, gathered about seventy slaves, who went on a rampage from plantation to plantation, murdering at least fifty-five men, women, and children. They gathered supporters, but were captured as their ammunition ran out. Turner and perhaps eighteen others were hanged.

Well, here's one thing I think: MOST PEOPLE don't live like you and me and the kids we know in New York. And what's more, they DON'T WANT TO. I feel like a big doofus, but all of a sudden I'm realizing: there are lots of people who don't HAVE New York apartments or houses in Southampton and, get this, WOULDN'T WANT TO LIVE THERE ANYWAY. They'd probably think, "Wow, big, crowded place. Lotta snobs. How lame." On the other hand, they probably have their own Southamptons. Only it's someplace you and I would probably think is really lame. AMAZING that people can see the world from such totally different points of view.

I spent a restless night plagued with excruciating dreams of Adam sucking me off in front of Matt, Jay and my mother. Matt and Jay weren’t paying much attention, being too busy excavating each other’s tonsils with their tongues, but Mum was staring with folded arms and narrowed eyes, occasionally muttering, “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Timothy—show a little enthusiasm!

ministers were at Waterloo Station, already in the train for Southampton, the news came through that Reynaud had resigned. The French government had rejected the proposed union, and the war was decided. Pétain had been appointed premier. ‘It’s all over,’ de Gaulle told Monnet on the phone. ‘There is no sense in pressing further. I am coming back.’ Churchill got off the train and went home. On that same night, 120 German bombers attacked England for the first time. Nine British civilians were killed, the first. Paul Reynaud could have been the same kind of leader as Churchill. He regarded Hitler as the Genghis Khan of the modern age, he demanded total dedication and promised that his government would ‘summon together and lead all the forces of France’ in continuing the

I would like to forget the image of the ship’s crane at Southampton docks when it lifted into the sky the three wooden trunks which held all that my family owned. There is only one memory I want to preserve. It is Maria, who is also Zama, sipping condensed milk on the steps of the doep at night. The African nights were warm. The stars were bright. I loved Maria but I’m not sure she loved me back. Politics and poverty had separated her from her own children and she was exhausted by the white children in her care, by everyone and everything in her care. At the end of the day, away from the people who stole her life’s energy and made her tired, she had found a place to rest, momentarily, from myths about her character and her purpose in life." (from "Things I Don't Want to Know" by Deborah Levy)

One legacy of John Winthrop, John Cotton, and other Bay Colony founders is the myth of America as a land specially favored by God, a myth we still live with today regardless of political ideology. In the spring of 1686, to preserve the spirit of that America in the face of its dying, Samuel Sewall paid the printer Samuel Green to produce hundreds of copies of a pamphlet containing the farewell sermon that John Cotton delivered on the docks in Southampton, England, in April 1630 before Winthrop’s fleet set sail. The Scripture was 2 Samuel 7:10: “I will appoint a place for my people Israel, and will plant them, that they may dwell in a place of their own, and move no more; neither shall the children of wickedness afflict them any more….” By August of 1686 Samuel had donated copies of God’s Promise to His Plantation to every magistrate of the new provincial court and to every member of the local militia. Not long after arranging

You interrogated a man at Hades’s compound a year ago. I heard what you did to him. I can’t have dead prisoners here; we have to be better than that.” “I didn’t kill him,” I objected, remembering the murderous bastard who’d tried to kill Hades before he’d been caught. Unfortunately we hadn’t stopped him from killing his own wife and children. “You took his hands. You know he killed himself in our jail?” “Yeah, well, I’m not going to kill anyone. Just talk. They wanted to kill me back in Southampton, now they want to take me to talk. I’d like to know why. And I heard your prisoner died by getting into a fight with another prisoner.” “He walked up to a cave troll and kicked him. The troll tore his head off and threw it fifty feet away. What would you call that?” “Suicide by troll. That’s new.

Dissolution 29 The Spread of Settlement—1607 to 1624 34 Towns, Plantations, Settlements, and Communities in Virginia: 1607-1624 (numbers are keyed to text and to illustrating map) 32, 33 1. Pasbehegh Country—1617 35 A. Argall Town—1617 36 B. Pasbehegh—c.1617 37 C. "the Maine"—1608 37 2. Smith's (Southampton) Hundred—1617 38 3. "Tanks Weyanoke"—c.1618 41 4. Swinhows—before 1622 43 5. Westover—c.1619 43 6. Berkeley Town and Hundred—1619 44 7. Causey's Care (or "Cleare")—c.1620 46 8. West and Shirley Hundred—c.1613 47 9. Upper Hundred-"Curls"—c.1613

James caught and measured the size of hundreds of wild, foraging buff-tails in and around Southampton, and found that the average size and tongue length varied greatly depending on which flower he caught them on.

He gave me his telephone number and asked me to make an appointment to see him in the Hotel République, on Place de la République. He assured me that in case he was not there, his wife would make the appointment; she spoke Yiddish. I came to his hotel next day and everything became clear. For double the price of a ticket from Southampton to New York, we could get tickets on one or the other boat. Of course, it had to be paid in New York to his brother in Williamsburgh, a section inhabited by Orthodox Jews.

Mr. Ungar had bought a ticket for another woman, who spoke only Polish and Yiddish. She had a son in New York and she was going to marry a rabbi in Williamsburg. He asked me to be her companion; he put her under my protection, since she could not communicate with anybody on the train or on the boat. We slept one night in London, then took the boat-train to Southampton, to embark on the Queen Elizabeth.

THE CATER STREET HANGMAN CALLANDER SQUARE PARAGON WALK RESURRECTION ROW BLUEGATE FIELDS RUTLAND PLACE DEATH IN THE DEVIL’S ACRE CARDINGTON CRESCENT SILENCE IN HANOVER CLOSE BETHLEHEM ROAD HIGHGATE RISE BELGRAVE SQUARE FARRIERS’ LANE THE HYDE PARK HEADSMAN TRAITORS GATE PENTECOST ALLEY ASHWORTH HALL BRUNSWICK GARDENS BEDFORD SQUARE HALF MOON STREET THE WHITECHAPEL CONSPIRACY SOUTHAMPTON ROW SEVEN DIALS LONG SPOON LANE BUCKINGHAM PALACE GARDENS

There was no reason why not.

Yeardley continued for some time as commander of the hundred. He held court, made land grants, and conducted other Colony business here, perhaps, in "the now mansion house of mee the said George Yeardley in Southampton Hundred.

a history of English seafaring and exploration that helped kindle interest in New World colonization; the Earl of Southampton (William Shakespeare’s patron); and other notables whose names made up a veritable who’s who of Early Stuart England.

The venture in New England was more than wilderness or garden: it was (in the words of Governor Winthrop as his party prepared to sail out from Southampton) ‘a city upon a hill’. This quotation from Matthew 5:14 has become a famous phrase in American self-identity, but Winthrop did not intend to convey any sense of a particular special destiny for the new colony: he meant that like every other venture of the godly, and as in the quotation’s context in Matthew’s Gospel, Massachusetts was to be visible for all the world to learn from it.

Buchanan tried to whip the devil out of me. “Find your tongue, lad!” Forgive this regression, but the man hated English. He may have hated everything by then, including me, but he was uncommon prickly when it came to English. You could tell by the way he bullied it. “The bastarde English,” the old man roared. “The verie whoore of a tongue.” We did our best to mimic him note for note, gesture for gesture. He hated that, too. The verie whoore. Old Greek before Breakfast Latin by Noon himself. The point is, what English I had was beaten or twisted into me. We were orphaned and crowned before we could speak or take our first step. No father. No mother. Too many uncles. Hounds for baying. Buchanan was the most religious of my keepers, and the unkindest of spirits among them. We have been told the young queen of Scots was once his student, and that he loved her. Just before giving her over to wreckage, methinks. Pious frauds. Their wicked Jesus. Then occasion smil’d. We were thirteen. The affection of Esme Stuart was one thing, lavished, as it was, so liberally upon us, but the music of his voice was another. We empowered our cousin, gave him name, station, a new sense of gravity, height, and reach, all the toys of privilege. We were told he spoke our mother’s French, the way it flutters about your neck like a small bird. But it was his English that moved us. For the first time, there was kindness in it, charity, heat and light. We didn’t know language could do such things, that could charm with such violence, make such a disturbance in us. Our cousin was our excess, our vice, our great transgression according to some, treason according to others. They came one night and stole him from us, that is, from me. They tore me out of his arms, called me wanton. Better that bairns should weepe, they said. Barking curs. We never saw our cousin again and were never the same after. But the charm was wound up. If we say we can taste words, we are not trying to be clever. And we are an insatiable king. Try now, if you can, to understand the nature of our thoughts touching the translation, its want of a poet. We will consult with Sir Francis. He is closer to the man, some say, than a brother. English is mistress between them. There, Bacon says, is empire. There, a great Britain. Where it is dull, where the glow . . . gleam . . . where the gleam of Majestie is absent or mute . . . When occasion smiles again, we will send for the man, Shakespere. Majestie has left its print on his art. After that hideous Scottish play, his best, darkest, and most complicated characters are . . . us. Lear. Antony. Othello. Fools all. All. The English language must be the best that is in us . . . We are but names, titles, antiquities, forgotten speeches, an accident of blood and historical memory. Aye . . . but this marvelously unexceptional little man. No more of this. By the unfortunate title of this history we must, it seems, prepare ourselves for a tragedy. Some will escape. Some will not. For bully Ben can never suffer a true rival. He killed an actor once for botching his lines. Actors. Southampton waits in our chambers. We will let him. First, to our thoughts. Only then to our Lord of Southampton.

About the Author Winner of a Robert F. Kennedy Book Prize, a Peabody Award, an Emmy, and two Polk awards, ROGER ROSENBLATT is University Professor of Writing at Long Island University Southampton College. He writes essays for Time magazine and for The News Hour with Jim Lehrer. He lives in Manhattan and Quogue, Long Island.

Up in the crow’s nest on the foremast, lookouts Frederick Fleet and Reginald Lee could see the lights of the French coast in the distance and the mast lights of other ships. For a closer look, binoculars would have helped, but the pair they had used in the crow’s nest on the trip from Belfast to Southampton had gone missing. This had been reported to Second Officer Charles Lightoller, but he had said there wasn’t a replacement set available. No one seemed bothered about it, so the lookouts weren’t worried either. Binoculars were not standard equipment in the crow’s nest on many ships. And these things just seemed to happen on a maiden voyage.

At MBS surveys we take pride in delivering affordable, on-time, on-deadline, accurate Surveying services. We are based in the Bournemouth area of Dorset and have built a great reputation working all over the South of the UK, including Poole, Southampton, Hampshire, Bristol, Exeter, Bath, London and many more.

In 1900, George and Clara Morris and their four children, Samuel, Selma, Marcella, and Malvina, left Bucharest, Romania, and boarded a ship for New York City. When they arrived in the United States, they stayed in New York City for a few weeks and then decided to move to Los Angeles, where George wanted to become a director in the movie business. Along the way, in St. Louis, Clara had another baby and died in childbirth. George put the children in an orphanage there before heading on to Los Angeles, where he promised to send for them. The children stayed in the orphanage until the oldest child, Marcella, was able to make enough money to get them all out. She moved them back to New York City, where she became the first Jewish female to hold a seat on the Wall Street stock exchange, where she made millions of dollars that she later gave to Brandeis University. She lived with her sisters in an apartment on Charles Street in Greenwich Village and had a house in Southampton, New York, and somewhere along the way had an affair with J. P. Morgan. Interesting? You bet. But don’t worry about remembering any of this, because it’s 90 percent wrong, which I didn’t find out until years later.

100%原版制作學历證书【+V信1954 292 140】《南安普顿大学學位證》University of Southampton

Researchers from the University of Southampton in England, using mobile-phone location data from Chinese internet firm Baidu, estimated that if China had implemented its strict measures in early January, it would have reduced the epidemic’s victims to just 5 percent of the eventual total.76 That’s a small enough outbreak that Chinese officials might have been able to fully contain the spread inside China.

A study by Southampton University has shown that 190,000 people flew into the UK from Wuhan and other high-risk Chinese cities between January and March and were allowed to travel across Britain at will. The researchers estimated that up to 1,900 of these passengers would have been infected with the coronavirus – guaranteeing the UK would become a centre of the subsequent pandemic.

Are you around next Sunday?” Mr. Newton encourages. “We’ve business in Southampton this week, but perhaps we might meet up after.” When no one says anything, he prompts with obvious emphasis, “Monty? What do you think?” Henry—Monty—I sincerely have no idea what his name is—looks as though he’s been asked to select a date for his execution. “Must we?” “Don’t,” Mr. Newton says quietly, and they stare at each other for a moment. I can sense some unspoken conversation passing through the air between them. When Henry says nothing more, Mr. Newton turns to me. His smile is truly starting to test the limits of his face. “Brilliant. We’ll see you back here then.” He reaches out a hand to me again and starts to say, “It was so lovely to meet—” But I leap to my feet, strangling the spyglass lenses, and dismiss myself before I am forced to shake hands with a man who is not my brother.

Her awards included not only honors from the US Navy – a Presidential Unit Citation, a Navy Unit Commendation and 20 battle stars for her flag – but also a rare honor from the Royal Navy. She became, when she stopped at Southampton in November 1945, the only non-Royal Navy warship ever awarded an Admiralty Pennant.

One simply has to decide what is more important: one’s own happiness or the opinions of others.

Finally, early in March 1912, a delegation from the union waited upon Bruce Ismay. As Managing Director of the White Star Line, Ismay was a mover and shaker in the British shipping industry, and maybe he could be persuaded to do something. The great Olympic was about to sail from Southampton, and the delegation pointed out that her five-man band was being paid at less than union scale, supplemented only by the monthly shilling that White Star paid to make them officially members of the crew. If the delegation expected to melt Ismay’s heart, they didn’t know their man. He replied that if the union objected to White Star carrying its bandsmen as members of the crew at a shilling a month, the company would carry them as passengers. Sure enough, when the Olympic reached New York on March 20, her five musicians were listed as Second Class passengers. All had regular tickets, and all had to appear before the immigration officials in the usual way. As a crowning irony in view of the reason for this masquerade, all had to produce $50 in cash to show that they were not destitute.

it is hard to understand why Southampton would pay a poet who calls him a “poor fool,” feminizes him as a deer, and has him speared in the balls—or, for that matter, why a commoner would dare to depict a nobleman this way.

How could this highly sophisticated, 1,194-line narrative poem, adapting Ovid’s Metamorphoses and written in polished stanzas of iambic pentameter, possibly be his first creative endeavor? Besides, the author had already written several anonymous plays. Skeptics see the workings of a carefully constructed pretense: a concealed author debuting as “Shakespeare,” making out that this is his first work. How the Stratford man came to meet the fashionable aristocrat, or why he dedicated the poem to him, is another mystery. Biographers tend toward the view that Southampton was Shakespeare’s patron, financing his early poetic endeavors. But no mention of Shakespeare has been found in Southampton’s papers, and there is no record of payment.

Southampton was still a minor in 1593, not yet in control of his finances and thus unable to patronize anyone. When he did come into his majority the next year, he had already racked up enough bills to be heavily in debt—not a man with money to spare on literary amusements.

In 1794 William Henry Ireland, a twenty-year-old Londoner, claimed to have discovered documents in the old trunk of a mysterious gentleman collector. The documents provided everything the literary world had longed for: a love letter from a young Shakespeare to Anne Hathaway, in which he had enclosed a lock of his hair; Shakespeare’s letters to and from Henry Wriothesley, the 3rd Earl of Southampton; Shakespeare’s haggling with a printer over the terms of publication of one of his plays (“ I do esteem much my play, having taken much care writing of it…. Therefore I cannot in the least lower my price”); a note from the Queen thanking Shakespeare for his “pretty verses” and inviting him to perform for her at Hampton Court; and, mercifully, Shakespeare’s Protestant “Profession of Faith,” putting an end to the dreadful possibility that the glory of the British nation might have been a secret Catholic. Ireland also “found” Shakespeare’s books inscribed with his name and marginal notes. And then, to top it all off, the greatest treasure of all: the original manuscript of King Lear in Shakespeare’s own hand, including a prefatory note from Shakespeare to his “gentle readers.” The literary world fell for the forgeries, hook, line, and sinker.

Chawton may be called the second, as well as the last home of Jane Austen; for during the temporary residences of the party at Bath and Southampton she was only a sojourner in a strange land; but here she found a real home amongst her own people.

At the age of seven Jane Austen was sent away to Oxford with her sister Cassandra and her cousin Jane Cooper to be taught by a private tutor. 59 In the summer of 1783, after the tutor and her pupils moved to Southampton, all three girls fell ill with typhus, and Jane Austen nearly died. She and her sister recuperated at home and then joined their cousin in 1785 at the Reading Ladies’ Boarding School, but were removed at the end of the following year, putting a stop to their tuition. By the time Jane Austen was eleven years old, her formal education was over.

Imprisoned in the Tower, Southampton was in no position to protect anybody. So if Southampton wasn’t protecting Shakespeare, who was? And how, and why?

In 2002 a visitor to their gallery had to inform them that they owned a portrait of the 3rd Earl of Southampton. So why had the Cobbe family failed for centuries to recognize a portrait of their most celebrated ancestor? Well, they had a good excuse. They thought the sitter was a girl. Apparently the Cobbe clan wasn’t familiar with a sonnet penned about their famously effete ancestor, the one that began “A woman’s face with Nature’s own hand painted.” God save art from the rich.

the 1601 Essex Rebellion, an armed uprising against the crown that was started at the Globe Theatre with an illicit production of Richard II. The rebellion ended with five courtiers being beheaded and the Fair Youth Earl of Southampton tossed into the Tower. If Strong was correct, that connection to treason might help explain why the picture had been repeatedly altered in strange fantastic ways while residing inside the Royal Collection.

On February 7, 1601, about two years before the queen’s death, an uprising against the crown had begun at the Globe Theatre with a treasonous production of Richard II in which Elizabeth was satirized as the incompetent Richard surrounded by villainous counselors. This rebellion, which would march on London the following morning, was led by two fallen favorites, Robert Devereux, the 2nd Earl of Essex, and Henry Wriothesley, the 3rd Earl of Southampton. We can’t be sure of their motive in starting this doomed rebellion, but it seems likely these two hyper-educated earls, symbols of the fast-fading English Renaissance, had been attempting to free their aged queen from the grasp of her powerful secretary, Sir Robert Cecil, in order to thwart Cecil’s plan to control the crown upon Elizabeth’s death.

Back in 1988 the Folger had X-rayed their Janssen portrait before recasting their star bard into the less enviable role of Sir Thomas Overbury, Disagreeable Jacobean Courtier Poisoned with Tarts and Jellies by the Wife of his Homosexual Lover. In questioning the authenticity of the Cobbe gallant, the skeptics were asking an obvious question: How could this Cobbe “original” depict Shakespeare if its Janssen “copy” depicted Tom Overbury? Even Stanley Wells agreed the two portraits portrayed the same man, but it was his contention that the Folger had erred in debunking and thereby devaluing their prized Janssen Shakespeare. Wells believed both portraits depicted Shakespeare and was quick to point out the Cobbe had been found in a collection descended from the 3rd Earl of Southampton (the consensus Fair Youth of the sonnets)

Whether or not they had traveled down to Southampton on the boat train that arrived early in the morning of April 10, the musicians would have joined the crowd of second-and third-class passengers streaming toward berths 43/44 of the White Star’s dock, where the majestic Titanic lay with its bow pointed at the Solent. They would have boarded by the second-class entrance on C Deck, toward the back of the ship, and taken the elevator or staircase two flights down to E Deck, where there was a designated musicians’ room on the starboard side with three sets of bunk beds, drawers, a wardrobe, a basin, and a separate cabin in which to store their instruments. A second room, again for 5 musicians was on the port side, squeezed between a room for washing potatoes, and accomodation for its workers. It’s likely that the ‘saloon orchestra’ took the better cabin.1

century law code; the predecessor of Southampton was Hamwih;

Oh, that's a good one," I responded to the zingy and aromatic Southampton tea truffle, picking up on hints of apricot in the Ceylon tea. "Heaven," I moaned, gripping the marble countertop where she mixed and tempered her bonbons, after tasting the strawberry balsamic truffle, made with strawberry purée, eight-year-old La Vecchia Dispensa Italian balsamic vinegar, and 66 percent dark chocolate, which was then dusted with freeze-dried strawberry powder.

But to lose is part of our human experience, as God intended it to be. The fact that it hurts to the very limit of our ability to bear is the whole point.

One consequence of this change was the missing binoculars for the lookouts. On the trip to Southampton from Belfast, the lookouts had used the now-departed second officer’s binoculars, which he had locked in a drawer in his cabin before he left the ship. When Lightoller inquired about binoculars for the lookouts, he was told that none were available for them.

In London similar scenes played out as names were posted at Oceanic House, White Star’s London office, near Trafalgar Square. Southampton was the hardest-hit city of all since that was where most of the crew and victualing staff lived—of whom only 212 out of 885 had survived.

Sadio Mane holds the record for being the fastest ever goal scorer of a hat trick in the Premier League, scoring three goals within 2 minutes 56 seconds for Southampton against Aston Villa on 16 May 2015.

trials held at ‘aero shows’ on Southampton Water were attended by ‘alert Germans

In a world where it seemed harder and harder to find meaningful connections with other people – love, marriage, family – it had never been easier to find paid companionship. The world was in the doldrums, the country still in the grip of recession, but one thing was clear. Southampton was awash with sex.

You got nowhere running around Inner Circle. Instead, I dodged shoppers and strollers all the way down Southampton Row, onto Kingsway, a right onto Aldwych and over the Strand; then it was a race with the shadows of the double-deckers crossing Waterloo Bridge and a few bounces down the steps of Southbank to fall in with the ferries and barges, all of us purposefully gliding.

Then it cleared: farther down the hallway, a door had opened on a flourish of sunlight. Into the light stepped a youth, white and gold, a celestial apparition—the Earl of Southampton. His face was beardless still, the eyes pale blue and with the lashless look of redheads. His auburn tresses, artfully curled, fell almost to his elbows. He was six feet tall and lovely as a waterfall, as pretty as a flowering tree. White silk, white velvet, cloth of gold. A gold filigree earring in one ear. Emilia knew him from her days of attendance on the Queen: an uncanny, androgynous youth with the despotic pout of the beautiful, who can never be sufficiently loved.

He laughed and came forward impulsively to kiss her—his affection a potent thing, a flourish of light. She was smiling, her tears feeling fresh on her face. He smelled of sweat and roses. She felt it in the palms of her hands, in her loins. It was right. It was Southampton she had wanted all along.

The maidservants all were in love with Southampton, in a rapt, unhoping way, like a tribe of poets in love with the moon; one would have a fit of tears, then it spread to another and another, until all the house heaved with love's calamity.

Tutte le città di mare hanno il molo. Ma cosa chiamano molo in questa città? È uno spazio in fondo alla piazzetta. [...] La piazza è quella del campanile più alto di questa terra. La piazzetta è lì di fianco, verso il mare, di fianco al palazzo Ducale. In fondo alla piazzetta ci sono due colonne alte, alte. [...] Sono la porta della città. Che è orientata. Mi son messo una mattina resto lì davanti e ho capito cosa significa essere orientati. Ma è chiaro. Quando ti nasce il sole in faccia in quel modo, ti orienti. [...] Da queste porte, due volte all'anno entravano e uscivano convogli di navi, merci, uomini, parole. La navigazione aveva un ciclo stagionale, come in agricoltura, in entrata e uscita. Da questa città fino a ogni altra città di questo mare. A Zara, Spalato, Ragusa, Dubrovnik, Durazzo, Brindisi, Rodi, Candia, Cipro, Atene, Famagosta, Costantinopoli, Tana, Trebisonda, Tashkent, Samarqand, Algeri, Malaga, Lisbona, Southampton, Bruges, Liegi, Anversa, Napoli, Cagliari, Marsiglia, Palermo! Perché il Mediterraneo non è soltanto mare, è acqua e terra, agua e tera, è una rete di città che si conoscono e si frequentano una con l'altra, bagnata dalla stessa marea che sei ore cala e sei ore cresce, non è lo scacchiere di qualcuno, è un mare-strada, finisce una navigazione, attacca una carovaniera, e le lega una con l'altra con una rete che non si interrompe mai qualsiasi cosa accada, come la marea che sei ore cala e sei ore cresce e arriva al molo di ognuna di queste città.

The west’s growing preoccupation with China is not surprising, for a new Chinese network is in the process of being built that extends across the globe. As late as the middle of the twentieth century, it was possible to sail from Southampton, London or Liverpool to the other side of the world without leaving British territory, putting in at Gibraltar and then Malta before Port Said; from there to Aden, Bombay and Colombo, pausing in the Malay peninsula and finally reaching Hong Kong. Today, it is the Chinese who can do something similar.

Not all the inquisitors of Spain were cruel or narrow-minded men, you know. Some truly believed they were saving the souls of those in their charge. They would be astounded if they knew how we perceived them now.

one mission. Feed Zlatan, let him sleep, keep him happy’. That guy says whatever he wants. I like him.” On his bromance with Mourinho “The Barca players were like schoolboys, following the coach blindly. Whereas I was used to asking, ‘Why should we?’” The forward explains what it was like to play at Barcelona “I can’t help but laugh at how perfect I am.” Zlatan is as modest as ever Reporter: “You’ve got some scars on your face, Zlatan. What has happened?” Zlatan: “Well... I don’t know... You’ll have to ask your wife about that.” Agent Anders Carlsson: “Southampton...Southampton is interested.” Zlatan: “What the f*ck! Southampton! Is that my level? Southampton!” Unsettled at Ajax, Zlatan asks his agent if any clubs offered him a way out “You can’t be a clown all the time.” Zlatan on growing up after five months at Ajax “Hi @Twitter. For tomorrow Zlatan needs more than 140 characters. Please change rules for Zlatan.” He tweeted this ahead of a Q&A on social media. The following are some of his best replies to fan questions... “There are 2 things Zlatan cannot do @at_sunshine. One is be predictable. The other is a step-under. But Zlatan is practising. #DareToZlatan.

For Noah and Nico, Southampton’s future strikeforce

A Southampton flying instructor yesterday won damages against a woman who had accused him of sexual harassment. The woman, who remains unnamed, had accused Doug Barker, 37, of making sexual advances to her while she was receiving flying lessons from him. The woman yesterday admitted in court that she was unable to provide evidence and all charges against Mr Barker were dropped. The judge ordered the woman to pay Barker £2500 in damages … It was a very long time before Francesca got to sleep that night.

The Speedwell will carry us to England,” John told Sarah for at least the fiftieth time. “Even now the Mayflower is being loaded with supplies and getting ready to meet us at Southampton. Just think. Soon we will be on our way.” He searched her face for the excitement that flamed higher and higher inside him.

In Southampton, Jones secured the twenty-one-year-old cooper John Alden, who because of his youth and skills was already being encouraged by the Pilgrims to remain in America at the completion of the crossing.

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