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Lady Cas has a Tiger

@ladycashasatiger / ladycashasatiger.tumblr.com

"I brought them here to show them what life in an English country house is like. We are a large party — here are diplomats, Minsiters, pretty women, jealous husbands, perfumed dandies, long dark corridors, chapels, towers, bats in the bed-curtains —...
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British Pattern 1827 Naval Officer’s Sword

A George IV naval officer’s sword by Prosser, Maker to the King, H.R.H. the Lord High Admiral, with curved pipe back blade, length 76.5cm, brass hilt with folding guard retaining most original gilt finish, lion’s head pommel, wire bound sharkskin covered grip.

This beefy pipe-back blade is superior to those typically used for regulation pattern officers’ swords, being wider and thicker and better at cutting.

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reblogged
There were large and important areas of Diana’s mind that were as strange to him as his was to her, but he was quite sure of one thing: her love of high, expensive living was far more theoretical than real. Certainly she hated being pinched and confined; but she hated being commanded even more. She might love careless extravagance, but she would do little or nothing to come by the means of it: certainly nothing against her inclination. She valued nothing so much as independence. Nothing was more valuable to her than her independence.

The Letter of Marque

I love Diana Villiers and no one can stop me.

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That letter, I imagine, is quite characteristic of him: It has no fine phrases or deep reflections, but everything is put down just as it comes to his recollection-most of it is like the description of a big football match, written by a boy to his brother. And this natural enough, for in spite of all the peerages and diamond stars, he still kept at 59 the best qualities of his boyhood: and here he is, at the end of his last adventure, standing on the poop of his flagship, with his cheek plastered, and his leg bandaged, and his spectacles broken, and his coat “all cut up by musket balls and by grape,” talking jovially at two in the morning about his nine hrs’ battle-the same quick, masterful, warm-blooded fellow as that long ago midshipman, “young Edward Pellew.”

The Book of the Blue Sea by Sir Henry John Newbolt

is it your intention, Sir Henry, to make me fall in love in Pellew? because you succeeded six stories earlier, now I just can’t handle the words ‘last battle.‘ 

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Me: “How can I help you today, ma'am?” Client: “Is e-mail internet”? Me: “I beg your pardon?” Client: “Is e-mail on the internet? I have no internet, can I still read my e-mail?” Me: “Well yes, you must be able to get online to view your e-mail.” Client: “Oh, dear. I can’t see my e-mail.” Me: “Well, let’s see. Can you open up Internet Explorer for me and tell me what you see?” Client: “Open what?” Me: “Your browser, can you open up your browser?” Client: “My…my…?” Me: “What you click on when you want to browse the internet?” Client: “I don’t use anything, I just turn my computer on, and it’s there.” Me: “Okay. Do you see the little blue ‘e’ icon on your desktop?” Client: “You mean I have to start writing letters again?” Me: “I’m…what, I’m sorry?” Client: “I don’t have any pens at my desk. I just want my e-mail again.” Me: “No, ma'am, your desktop, on your computer screen. Can you click on the little blue ‘e’ on your computer screen for me?” Client: “Oh, this is too much work. I’m too upset. Just send me my e-mail. Can’t you send me my e-mail?” Me: “We…okay, ma'am. Can you tell me what color the lights are on your router right now?” Client: “My what?” Me: “The little box with green or possibly a couple of red lights on it right now - it’s most likely near your computer?”

Client: “Lights and boxes, boxes and lights, just get my e-mail for me.

Me: “My test is showing that you should be able to get online right now. Can you tell me what you’re seeing on your computer screen?” Client: “It’s been the same thing for the last two hours.” Me: “An error message?” Client: “No, just stars. It’s black and moving stars.” Me: “…Do you see your mouse next to your keyboard?” Client: “Yes.”

Me: “Move it for me.” Client: “Move it?” Me: “Yes. Move it.” Client: “My e-mail!”

This post gave me a fucking ulcer.

blu-iv

😂😂😂😂😂

For EVERY. ONE. OF. US. who deals in the dark arts of customer service.

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rosswoodpark

is selling pickles in movie theaters really just a Texas thing ?? like…. I can’t imagine going to a movie and NOT getting a pickle like… WHAT!!

what the fuck is going on in texas

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little known fact, once you are older & no longer in school, time stops being real. did that thing happen one year ago? two? five? a few months ago? who knows. 

And seasons mean nothing

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