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cannibalcoyote · 1 year

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Unraveled Ch.5: Tough Times

Ch.4 Ch.6

"Jenkinson?" Alec questions back, looking forward and shoving his hands in his pockets as he continues forward, as if our conversation never occurred.

"The Chief Super. I saw you walking with her." Ellie quickly states back, looking over at him.

"No." Alec quickly denies, his blunt and stubborn attitude making it hard for me to stifle the smirk begging to appear.

"I did, you were having 99s." Ellie pursues, looking over to me for help. I simply smile and continue walking.

"Miller, your son went to school with Danny. Does he know yet." Alec voices as he continues to avoid her questions by changing the subject, instead getting straight to talking about the case.

"...No." Ellie reluctantly replies back, looking at the ground in thought as Alec glances over to her.

At this point I begin to space out, something I've been doing way too much of, but I have too much to think about. How will Tom take the news of his friend's death? Does Tom know anything? I also should probably go and check on Beth and her family after this.

I continue walking until I hear Ellie asking Alec to stop calling her Miller, causing my head to turn up to watch the conversation play through, already knowing he's not going to call her Ellie.

"Why?" He questions, genuinely wondering why.

"I don't really like the surname thing. I prefer Ellie." She quickly replies, looking over as she talks. I look over to Alec as he thinks about it.

"Ellie..Ellie... No." he states after speaking her name, striding away after deciding 'No'. This time I'm unable to hold in my slight giggle at her facial expression, sliding an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into a side hug.

"Oh Ellie, you'll get used to him." I voice as I continue to grin widely. I quickly release her before I run to catch up with Alec. Looking back to see her look of shock dwindle into one of annoyance. Elbowing him slightly, he looks at me before breaking a smile at seeing my obnoxiously happy grin. Myself laughing even more as I hear Ellie shout at how he calls me by my first name.

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We have just arrived at Jack's, we're here to question him because he interacted with Danny regularly. In my time at Broadchurch, he's probably the third closest person to me, Ellie and Beth being tied for number one, with Reverend Paul being second.

As soon as we walk in Jack slightly smiles at me in welcoming.

"Hello Elspeth. What can I do for you?" I smile back as Ellie replies.

"Jack, we need to ask you a few questions. Danny didn't turn up for his round this morning?" A look of sadness engulfs Jack's face at Ellie's question, Alec over to the side looking through some papers as he listens.

"I assumed he was sick." Jack replies.

"Did he often miss his round?" I question, Jack's vision shifting to me.

"They all do, one time or another." He responds, Alec looking up finally to make eye contact with Ellie and me. I could see immediately that Jack was going to be in for it if Alec thought he heard something incriminating. I know about Jack's past, I did some digging up on everyone I met here, after finding the news I made him explain what really happened. I believe that there is only one other person who knows about his past wife and son, and I can only pray that it doesn't get dragged into this investigation.

"How was Danny yesterday?" Ellie replies as Alec looks away. Jack's expression looked as though his eyes were watering in grief.

"No different than usual." He replies, slight exasperation in his voice.

"Did you notice anything on his mind in the last couple of weeks?" Ellie continues questioning.

"He was only in here 15 minutes first thing. I-I'm not a psychiatrist." Jack answers, I notice Alec lifts his head up and looks at Jack. I know Alec is a great detective, but his blunt questions always have startled me, even when we were just children.

"You married?" Alec suddenly asks, I glance over at him then back to Jack, knowing Jack's response.

"No. Are you?" Jack fires back, his eyebrows scrunched down at the question. They stare at each other for a second, Jack turning to me as Ellie glanced over at Alec, I just slightly cringe seeing as I only recently learned of my best friend's divorce.

"They brought him in here, Mark and Beth. Three days old, he was. It's not right." Jack states as he looks between me and Ellie before glancing at Alec at the end.

Ending our questions, Alec and Ellie walk out of the shop, not noticing how I didn't follow. I waited a few seconds before going over to Jack and grasping his hand, a few held back tears escaping his eyes.

"Jack, I know this is an awful thing, especially with what happened to you. You're like a father figure to me, as well a guide for the young children in the Sea Brigade, but you need to tell them what happened in your past." I explain in sympathy as he grips my hand.

"I know Els, but my past is mine, and mine alone." Jack states as he releases my hand and wipes away his tears. I sigh, knowing that would be his response.

"I promised to never tell anyone about it, and that promise still stands; just know that with this case, reporters are going to try to get a story out of anything, guard yourself." I state as I nod my head bye and run to catch up to Alec.

————————

"What'd ya have?" Alec asks solemnly. I look away from the man to the screen as he gives us the rundown of his injuries.

"Superficial cuts and bruises to the face. Traces of domestic cleaning fluid on the skin. Cause of death was asphyxiation. He was strangled. Bruising to the neck and the windpipe, and at the top of the spine. Patterns of bruises suggest large hands, I'd suggest a male. It, um, it would've been brutal. The angle suggests he would've been facing his attacker. He would've known." The man finishes. Throughout his explanation I stayed leaning against the wall by the door, looking down. Child murders have always been the worst experiences for me, and it seems this one plans to leave a lasting effect.

"Any sexual violence?" Alec questions after the explanation, throwing a glance over to me, but I don't return his look as I continue to stare at the floor. Silently holding my breath, praying the answer is no, ever since that terrible event happened to me I have become excessively sensitive when this question comes up.

"Mercifully, no." I let out a quiet sigh of relief, finally looking up. Glancing at Ellie to see she's nearly crying. I slowly step over and grasp her hand.

"Time of death?" Alec continues.

"I'd put between 10:00pm Thursday night, and 4:00 am Friday morning." Alec sucks in air noisily as he closes the folder before saying thank you to the man and shaking his hand, I release Ellie's hand and shake the man's. We turn to leave, Alec grabbing my upper arm and leading me with him before we hear the coroner start talking again.

"We don't get these around here. Make sure you find them." The man voices. Alec looked from me to Ellie. Before continuing on his way, myself being pulled with him.

Alec drags me out of the station as we're already on our way to inform the family. Ellie looks questioningly at his actions, especially at how he is holding my arm and is about to say something when Alec interrupts.

"Go grab the car Miller." he harshly vocalizes, not even sparing her a glance. Ellie looks like she wants to say something, but leaves to grab the car with a huff of annoyance, leaving us alone.

"Are you alright?" Alec quietly questions as he releases his harsh grip on my arm. I rub it slightly staring down at the ground.

"I'm fine, why?" I respond, though my voice quivers slightly, the memories of Pippa's decomposing body flashing through my mind, causing me to scrunch my eyes close in an attempt to rid my mind of the image.

"Els...Els... Elswyth! Look at me dammit!" Alec nearly shouts after a few seconds of me not reacting. I look up at him shouting, the tears blurring my vision, his frustrated gaze immediately softening at my state. He reaches over, but I flinch and back up slightly. He hesitates before he reaches over again, but confidently continues as I don't move away. He tenderly grasps my left shoulder and drags me into a soft hug, my face pressed into his neck as I hug him back, his head resting against the top of mine. One of his hands rubbing soft circles against my back, his other softly resting against my neck as he calmly hushes me, some tears managing to escape my tired eyes.

After a few seconds of his comfort I am significantly calmer and try to pull myself together, Alec softly kisses the side of my head before we pull back from the hug, myself blushing slightly, Alec having a light tint of pink on his cheeks. I look at him before smiling despite my burning eyes.

"Thank you, this case has been harder to deal with than I expected." I say as I sheepishly lower my gaze.

"It's alright Els, I knew this would bring back bad memories... for the both of us." Alec softly replies. He's about to say more when Ellie pulls up in front of the station.

"Are you riding with us?" Alec questions, looking back at me.

"No, I'll grab my car and meet you at the Latimer's." I reply after thinking for a second. I was going to hug him before remembering Ellie was there, deciding a smile was better before heading off to my car.

————————

"We have some preliminary findings.... We are treating Danny's death as suspicious." Alec states to the family. Ellie is trying to hold it together as I watch their responses. Beth looks like she's falling apart, Mark looks like he's bottling it all up, and Liz looks heartbroken.

"We think he may have been killed." Alec finishes.

"I should've checked on him before I went to bed. If I'd checked..."Beth voices, immediately blaming herself. I want to tell her this isn't her fault, but I know it's best to let them run their mouths. I look over at Chloe to see her leaving as Ellie talks.

"Beth, this is not your fault. Whatever happened, this is not down to you." Ellie immediately emphasizes. I can see Alec glancing over at her as a silent 'shut up'.

"I promise, we will find the person responsible....You have my word." Alec promises after a pause. I look at him, knowing that he's probably going to overwork himself to find this killer, and I'm going to have to work even harder to make sure he doesn't kill himself in the process. I know how this case is bringing up memories of our failure, and Alec is making a personal promise to this family.

————————

After informing the family we all head out, Alec and Ellie in one car and myself in my own. We pull over at a shell station, I pay and start filling my car before heading in to buy some food, bumping into Ellie.

"Els, do you and Hardy know each other or something?" Ellie questions, I glance outside to see Alec anxiously waiting. I'm about to respond when Ellie gets a call, I quickly grab two granola bars, and pay for them, heading out while Ellie is on the phone. I walk out to see Alec hold up his watch as a 'hurry up' to Ellie. I sit next to him and hold out one of the bars, he looks down at it skeptically, then back to me as if to say 'I'm not eating that'.

"Don't give me that shit Alec, I'm not stupid enough to miss how much weight you've lost since the last time we saw each other. Not to mention you look like a dead man walking." I state sternly as I stare straight ahead, still holding out the bar for him. He grumpily mumbles something as he lazily yanks it out of my hand.

"So, do you think Miller's noticed that we know each other?" He questions, the sound of the crinkly wrapper being pulled down off the bar filling the already noisy atmosphere.

"Funny thing, she was just asking me if we knew each other when she got a phone call." I state. The air between us quiets down as he takes a bite of the bar, giving me an incredulous look after swallowing it. I look over at him, eyebrows raised in amusement at his look of disgust.

"Why would you buy this, it's appalling." He questions rhetorically, his accent thickening in his last word. I hum humorously at his expression, earning a small smile from him. He tentatively wraps his arm behind my back, pulling me into his side slightly. I lean against him as I gently sigh in exhaustion.

"Y'know, I've really missed you Els." He voices as he looks down at me, his smile turning into a pleased grin when I look up at him and return the smile. I'm about to respond when a disgruntled Ellie exits the shop, both of us instantly separating from each other.

I slide off the hood and head back to my own car as Alec and Ellie get into hers, the expression of worry was very obvious on Ellie's face, which is only prompting me to worry about what that phone call was about.

Ellie and Alec head off, and just as I start my car I get a notification on twitter, one that immediately infuriates me. My only thoughts are on how I'll postpone going to the station and make a detour to slap Oliver upside the head.

Ch.4 Ch.6

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a-la-rascasse · 2 years

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SIC PARVIS MAGNA - GREATNESS FROM SMALL BEGINNINGS

Bruce working along the mechanics on the Mclaren M2B, Monaco 1966.

After gaining experience in the Tasman Series and sportscar racing in the previous years, Bruce decided to take the big step of entering his small team in Formula 1, in the ‘66 season. The brand-new McLaren team made its first official debut at the Monaco Grand Prix; despite the long trip that took almost two days to transport the new McLaren M2B, the team started the weekend very optimistically.

When the new car was revealed, it was mistaken for a Formula Junior car: “I remember someone looking at the car and saying, 'It must be a Chequered Flag Formula Junior car' their cars were also white with a dark stripe. The whole thing was quite funny” recalls Robin Herd. Passers-by may have failed to recognise the McLaren as a new F1 car, but it soon attracted attention from the assembled media. Veteran journalists were quick to recognise the high standard of workmanship that had gone into it. The car, despite the heavy V8 engine, sported an elegant white/silver/dark green livery (which i love with my whole heart) chosen for the shooting of the movie ‘Grand Prix’, and had an immaculate presentation, like Denis Jenkinson reported in his article for the magazine 'Motor Sport': “The detail work and the finish of the McLaren is of a very high standard and a great deal of thought has gone into final details, making the car appear to have a 'tool-room' finish, rather than having been hurriedly assembled in the back garden, like some racing cars.”.

The McLaren was the first car out on track in a damp practice session on Thursday. It performed respectably, but was perhaps flattered because everyone else was struggling with their new chassis and engines. Lap after lap, the race track stareted to dry, and it’s there that Bruce started to feel the weight of the V8 engine, this happened especially while climbing the Ste Devote and through the chicanes. As the time for the qulyfing session arrived, Bruce essentialy 'sabotaged' himself by forgetting his racing boots in his hotel room: “Hush Puppies (faux leather/suede casual shoes) don't seem to have been developed with F1 racing in mind, and I was having minor dramas getting the toes jammed up between the pedals and the front oil tank. It didn't take long to hack-saw the toes off, and with a very smart look for the '66 summer season, I was back in the fray” Bruce later wrote. He managed to qualify 10th, which for a new car, wasn’t a bad result.

The start and the first lap of the race were captured in by Frankenheimer’s cameras, and thus Grand Prix shows Bruce shooting up to sixth place. However, the fun didn’t last. He soon dropped to seventh and then after just 10 laps an oil leak, caused when a line came adrift, sent him into the pits: “An oil pipe union came loose up front in my car and released half the oil on the road and the other half over me in the cockpit,” Bruce wrote, but he noticed that he lost too much time in the pits, so he decided to not go out again, worried too to blow the engine up.

That’s how the first race for McLaren ended. For many this is seen as a failure, a defeat, but for the team that later will become one of the most successfull in F1, it was only the beggining! The ‘defeat’ fed even more the flame that quickly transformed in a blazing fire, it pushed this small team to want to do better, to not give up and to keep going, to smile even in the moments of defeat in true McLaren style...

#not me quoting uncharted lol #but it suits the team perfectly!!!#i'm still laughing at the whole story of the shoes lmaoo #aaah he was such a funny lad ugh #bruce mclaren #classic f1 #f1 #formula 1 #retro f1 #f1 1960s #mclaren

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motorsportsminiatures · 2 years

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Spark Model S5859 Mercedes Benz 300 SLR #722 'Stirling Moss - Denis Jenkinson' Winner Mille Miglia 1955 (w/Figures), 1/43rd scale resin model car.

#spark model #1/43rd scale #mercedes benz #mille miglia #stirling moss #denis jenkinson

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legendsofracing · 7 years

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Stirling Moss and navigator Denis Jenkinson running their fantastic Mercedes-Benz 300 SLR to victory in the 1955 Mille Miglia.

#Stirling Moss #Denis Jenkinson #Mercedes-Benz #Mercedes-Benz 300 SLR #1955 #Mille Miglia

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bookloversofbath · 2 years

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From Chain Drive to Turbocharger: The A.F.N. Story :: Denis Jenkinson

From Chain Drive to Turbocharger: The A.F.N. Story :: Denis Jenkinson soon to be presented for sale on the superior BookLovers of Bath web site! Wellingborough: Patrick Stephens, 1984, Hardback in dust wrapper. Includes: Black & white photographs; Tables; Frontispiece; Photographic lining papers; Appendices (8); From the cover: The AFN story is a long and fascinating one of triumphs, intrigues…

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justforbooks · 4 years

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Sir Stirling Moss, F1 great, dies aged 90

He was content to be known, he often said, as the man who never won the world championship: a way of distinguishing him from those of lesser gifts but better luck who had actually succeeded in winning motor racing’s principal honour. But it was the manner in which Stirling Moss, who has died aged 90, effectively handed the trophy to one of his greatest rivals that established his name as a byword for sporting chivalry, as well as for speed and courage.

It was after the Portuguese Grand Prix on the street circuit at Oporto, the eighth round of the 1958 series, that Moss voluntarily appeared before the stewards to plead the case of Mike Hawthorn, threatened with disqualification from second place for apparently pushing his stalled Ferrari against the direction of the track after spinning on his final lap. Moss, who had won the race in his Vanwall, testified that his compatriot had, in fact, pushed the car on the pavement, and had thus not been on the circuit itself. Hawthorn was reinstated, along with his six championship points. Three months later, when the season ended in Casablanca, he won the title by the margin of a single point from Moss, who was never heard to express regret over his gesture.

Such sportsmanship had become part of his appeal, along with the devil-may-care charisma formerly associated with Battle of Britain fighter pilots. His public image was enhanced by his willingness to invite feature writers and TV cameras into his town house in Shepherd Market, the district of Mayfair in central London where he lived, even when married, in a kind of bachelor-pad splendour amid a panoply of hi-tech gadgets.

The aura continued to surround him long after an accident on the track truncated his career at the age of 32, when he was still in his prime. The sight of Moss, in his later decades, entering the paddock at a race meeting, accompanied by his third wife, the effervescent and indispensable Susie, never failed to draw shoals of fans, photographers and journalists keen to hear his opinion on the latest controversy.

He loved to fight against the odds, and the greatest of his Formula One victories, at the wheel of an obsolete, underpowered Lotus-Climax, came in 1961 at Monaco and the Nürburgring, two circuits that placed the highest demands on skill and nerve. Those wins could be set alongside the epic victory in the 1955 Mille Miglia and the historic triumph in the 1957 British Grand Prix at Aintree, when he and Tony Brooks became the first British drivers to win a round of the world championship series in a British car, prefacing a long period of British domination.

Before his retirement as a professional driver in 1962 he had competed in 529 races, not counting rallies, hill climbs and record attempts. He won 212 of them, an extraordinary 40% success rate. Of the 66 world championship grands prix he entered between 1951 and 1961, he won 16, a ratio unfavourably distorted by early years spent in uncompetitive British cars and by a pronounced share of mechanical misfortune.

He was born to parents who had met at Brooklands, in Surrey, the great cathedral of pre war British motor racing. His father, Alfred, was a descendant of a family of Ashkenazi Jews known, until the end of the 19th century, as Moses. A successful dentist, Alfred Moss also possessed a passion for motor sport, and competed at Brooklands in the 1920s; while studying in the US, he entered the Indianapolis 500, finishing 16th. His wife, Aileen (nee Craufurd), was the great-great-niece of “Black Bob” Craufurd, a hero of the Peninsular war in the early 19th century; an equestrian, she also entered races and rallies in her own three-wheeled Morgan.

When their son was born they were living in Thames Ditton. Two years later, after the birth of a daughter, Pat, they moved to a large house in Bray, Berkshire, called Long White Cloud. Both children rode horses competitively from an early age (Pat was to become a champion horsewoman and rally driver). Stirling, educated at Clewer Manor prep school and Haileybury, Hertfordshire, neither enjoyed nor excelled at academic work. It was at Haileybury that he was subjected to antisemitic bullying for the first time.

He was nine when his father bought him an old Austin Seven, which he drove in the fields surrounding Long White Cloud. At 15 he obtained his first driving licence and, with £50 from his equestrian winnings plus the proceeds from the sale of the Austin, bought his own Morgan. It was followed by an MG (in which he was discovered by Aileen Moss while attempting, aged 17, to surrender his virginity to one of his father’s dental receptionists) and then, in the winter of 1947-48, by a prewar BMW 328. This was the car with which he entered his first competition, organised by the Harrow Car Club, winning his class.

Resistant to the lure of dentistry, he worked briefly as a trainee waiter at various London establishments. But motor racing was where his heart lay, and for his 18th birthday his father bought him a Cooper-JAP, powered by a 500cc motorcycle engine, with which to compete in the new Formula Three series. After a couple of good performances in hill climbs, he entered and won his first single-seater race on the Brough aerodrome circuit in east Yorkshire on 7 April 1948.

Ruled out of national service by bouts of illness, including nephritis, Moss was soon a regular winner against fierce competition and before long he was making occasional trips to races in Italy and France. In May 1950, when a race was held in support of the Monaco Grand Prix, he set the best practice time, won his heat and then won the final.

As his reputation grew, he was approached in 1951 by Enzo Ferrari, who offered him a car for a Formula Two race at Bari, as the prelude to a full contract for the following season. Moss and his father made the long journey down to Puglia, only to discover that the only Ferrari was reserved for another driver, the veteran Piero Taruffi. No explanation was offered and Moss’s fury at such treatment led to a lasting rift and a special sense of satisfaction whenever he managed to beat the Italian team, particularly in a British car.

A victory in the 1954 Sebring 12-hours, sharing the wheel of an OSCA sports car with the American driver Bill Lloyd, opened the season in which he made his international breakthrough. Deciding to take the plunge into Formula One, he and his manager, Ken Gregory, first offered his services to Mercedes-Benz, then on the brink of a return to grand prix racing. When the German team politely indicated that they thought he needed more experience, Gregory and his father negotiated the purchase of a Maserati 250F, the new model from Ferrari’s local rivals.

No racing driver can have invested £5,500 more wisely. Moss and the 250F bonded instantly, and he was soon winning the Aintree 200, his maiden Formula One victory. By the time he entered the car for the German Grand Prix, he was being supported by the official Maserati team, which had recognised his world-beating potential. At Monza that September he was leading the Italian Grand Prix and looking a certainty for his first win in a round of the world championship when an oil pipe broke with 10 laps to go.

Mercedes had taken note, however, and signed him up for 1955, as No 2 to the world champion, Juan Manuel Fangio. Although neither spoke the other’s language, a warm respect grew between them. At Aintree, having won three of the season’s first four races and assured himself of a third world title, Fangio took his turn to sit in the slipstream as Moss became the first Briton to win his home grand prix.

In 1955, too, Moss won the Mille Miglia, the gruelling time trial around 1,000 miles of Italian public roads, in a Mercedes 300SLR sports car. During two reconnaissance runs his co-driver, the journalist Denis Jenkinson, prepared a set of pace notes that were inscribed on a roll of paper, held on a spindle inside a small aluminium box. As they charged from Brescia to Rome and back, Jenkinson scrolled through the notes and shouted instructions to the driver. They completed the course in 10 hours and seven minutes, at an average speed of 97.95mph – a record that stands in perpetuity, since the race was abandoned after several spectators were killed two years later.

When Mercedes bowed out of Formula One at the end of 1955, Moss returned to Maserati while Fangio went to Ferrari. Moss won at Monaco and Monza, finishing runner-up to Fangio in the championship for the second time in a row. However he had always hoped to win grands prix in a British car, and for 1957 he was happy to accept an invitation to drive a Vanwall, a Formula One car built by the industrialist Tony Vandervell at his factory in Acton, west London.

At Aintree, after a patchy start to the season, he fell out of the lead with a misfiring engine. Taking over the car of his team-mate Brooks, who was still suffering from the effects of a crash at Le Mans, he resumed in ninth place and eventually took the lead with 20 laps to go after the clutch of Jean Behra’s Maserati disintegrated and a puncture delayed Hawthorn’s Ferrari. More conclusive were the subsequent victories at Pescara and Monza, when the British car and its driver beat the Italian teams on their home ground.

After Fangio’s retirement in 1958, Moss became his undisputed heir. When Vanwall did not attend the first race of the year, in Buenos Aires, he was allowed to drive a little two-litre Cooper-Climax entered by his friend Rob Walker and, through a clever bluff involving pit stops, managed to beat the Ferraris. Back in the Vanwall, he won the Dutch, Portuguese and Moroccan grands prix, but was again condemned to second place in the final standings, this time behind Hawthorn.

Vandervell was so distressed by the death of Stuart Lewis-Evans, the team’s third driver, in Morocco at the end of the season that he withdrew his cars during the winter, leaving Moss without a drive for 1959. The solution was to form an alliance with Walker, the heir to a whisky fortune, whose Cooper-Climax would be looked after by Moss’s faithful mechanic, Alf Francis, a wartime refugee from Poland. The dark blue car suffered from unreliability until late summer, when Moss took it to victories in Portugal and Italy.

Moss and Walker remained in partnership for 1960, but a fine victory in Monaco with a new Lotus-Climax was followed at Spa by a bad crash during a practice session, the car losing a wheel at around 140mph and hitting a bank with such force that the driver suffered two broken legs, three crushed vertebrae and a broken nose. To general astonishment he was back at the wheel inside two months, winning his comeback race in a Lotus sports car.

In 1961 his virtuosity overcame the limitations of Walker’s ageing Lotus and its four-cylinder engine. Twice he outran the V6 Ferraris of Wolfgang von Trips, Phil Hill and Richie Ginther, first in a mad chase at Monaco and then, on a wet track, at the 14-mile Nürburgring. He was at the height of his powers and the only problem was to find cars good enough to match his brilliance.

Before the start of the 1962 season Enzo Ferrari offered to supply his latest car, to be run in Walker’s colours. Old resentments were cast aside and Moss accepted this rare invitation. But an accident at Goodwood, at the wheel of a Lotus, meant that it was never put to the test.

No conclusive evidence has ever emerged to explain why, on that Easter Monday, his car went straight on at St Mary’s, a fast right hander, and hit an earth bank. It took 40 minutes to cut his unconscious body out of the crumpled wreckage.

The outward signs of physical damage – severe facial wounds, a crushed left cheekbone, a displaced eye socket, a broken arm, a double fracture of the leg at knee and ankle, and many bad cuts – were less significant than the deep bruising to the right side of his brain, which put him in a coma for a month and left him paralysed in the left side for six months, with his survival a matter of national concern.

After lengthy treatment, convalescence and corrective surgery, he started driving on the road again. And in May 1963, a year and a week after the accident, he returned to Goodwood, lapping in a Lotus sports car for half an hour on a damp track. When he returned to the pits, it was with bad news. The old reflexes, he believed, had been dulled, and without that sharpness he could only be an ex-racing driver. In the fullness of time, he came to regret the decision. Had he postponed it a further two or three years, he felt, his recovery would have been complete and, at 35, he might have had several seasons at the top ahead of him.

Instead he occupied himself with his property company. There was also the well remunerated business of being Stirling Moss, constantly in demand for commercial and ceremonial events. He participated in races for historic cars, taking advantage of a special dispensation that allowed him, and him alone of all the world’s racing drivers, to ignore modern safety regulations by competing in his old helmet and overalls and doing without seat-belts.

He celebrated his 81st birthday by racing at the Goodwood Revival; a few months earlier he had fallen 30ft down the lift shaft at his Mayfair home, breaking both his ankles. Towards the end of 2016, however, he fell ill during a trip to the far east. After several weeks in hospital in Singapore he was flown home to London and his withdrawal from public life was announced.

Always enthusiastic in his pursuit of what, refusing to abandon the vernacular of racing drivers of the 50s, he referred to as “crumpet”, he was married three times. The first marriage, in 1957, was to Katie Molson, the heir to a Canadian brewing fortune; they separated three years later. In 1964 he married Elaine Barberino, an American public relations executive, with whom he had a daughter, Allison, in 1967, and from whom he was divorced the following year. He married Susie Paine, the daughter of an old friend, in 1980; their son, Elliot, was born later that year.

Appointed OBE in the 1959 new year’s honours list, and named BBC sports personality of the year in 1961, he was knighted in 2000.

He is survived by Susie and his children.

• Stirling Craufurd Moss, racing driver, born 17 September 1929; died 12 April 2020

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

#JUST FOR BOOKS #Stirling Craufurd Moss

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autumnsnuggling · 5 years

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Things are Different Now

Again, this should have been a reblog but Tumblr is stupid. TW for a previous abusive relationship and thought processes associated with that ❤️

Sunlight woke Draco gently; hazy warmth enveloped him, particularly around his middle. An unidentified, gentle rhythm forbade his usual foul mood, bathing him in comfort and peace.

A snuffle behind him prompted a rush of memories from the previous night; he’d stayed with Harry! Harry Potter! Saviour of the Wizarding World! The Chosen one, who was now spooning him, a warm arm circling Draco’s waist, breathing softly in his ear.

Draco all but jumped out of bed; he shouldn’t have stayed, there were rules he had to follow, rules he’d broken by staying over, rules he could be punished for disobeying. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep after sex. He really hadn’t. But it had been so good, he’d been so sated, so comfy, and Harry was so warm.

He rushed towards his clothes.

“Mornin’.”

Draco stopped dead, flies still undone, only one arm in his shirt.

Shit.

“I was just leaving.” He tried to keep his tone confident.

“Huh?”

He frantically buttoned his shirt.

“Draco, what are you doing?”

Fuckshitballs.

Harry sat up.

“Draco, come here.”

Draco froze. Every inch of his body screamed for him to run, but he deserved his punishment. As he battled with himself, bed sheets rustled, soft footsteps approached, a hand touched Draco’s shoulder. He flinched.

“Draco, look at me.”

Harry’s voice was soft, gentle, but commanding. Draco couldn’t help but fall into the emerald gaze.

“Why are you scared?”

Harry’s eyes were warm; caring. Surely too good to be true.

“I shouldn’t have stayed.” It was barely above a whisper. Harry frowned slightly; Draco’s heartbeat raced faster.

“Did I do something wrong? Is this too fast for you?” Harry had taken Draco’s hands into his own.

“N-n-no! It’s me! I’m not supposed to stay!”

“Why?”

Draco swallowed, stomach churning.

“Jenkinson told me so.”

Draco waited for Harry to react. To agree that Draco didn’t deserve to stay. He was a fuck. Nothing more. Instead, Draco was led back to the bed, chin lifted gently so Draco’s eyes met Harry’s.

“Draco, Jenkinson was an abusive prick.” Harry gently cupped Draco’s cheek. "He treated you like shit. Things are going to be different now. Starting with this; staying over is encouraged. I like waking up to a warm bed with my boyfriend in it. So come snuggle, it’s too early for clothes and life.”

Draco swallowed hard; Harry’s eyes held only truth, no hint of lie or deception. He couldn’t believe he deserved this yet; luxury, affection. But Harry gently pulled him towards bed, regardless.

As he crawled in, Harry’s arms circled him, squeezing gently. Draco couldn’t deny the sensation of comfort pooling in his stomach as Harry brushed a gentle kiss to his ear; he wriggled closer tentatively. Maybe he was right; maybe things were different now.

Posting this again because I want too and because it's relevant to life right now. Enjoy the angst!

#drarry #mywriting #aprilwrites #harry potter #draco malfoy #hurt/comfort #angst #draco x harry #drarry squad #tw: abuse #tw: abusive relationship

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frenchcurious · 1 year

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Mercedes-McLaren SLR. 722 - Hommage à l’heure de départ (7h22) de Stirling Moss et son copilote Denis Jenkinson, vainqueurs des Mille Miglia 1955. - source News D'Anciennes.

#mercedes-benz-mclaren #stirling moss #denis jenkinson #mille miglia

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f1mike28 · 5 months

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SLR McLaren Roadster 722 Edition „What a Legend“.

The SLR 722 Edition is a car manufactured jointly by Mercedes-Benz and McLaren. The SLR was named as an hommage to the original 300 SLR.

The 722 nameplate is derived from the victory won by the British racing legend Stirling Moss and his co-driver Denis Jenkinson in a Mercedes-Benz 300 SLR with the starting number 722 (indicating a start time of 7:22 a.m.).

SLR McLaren Roadster 722 Edition powered by the Mercedes-AMG M155 V8 5.5L Supercharged engine with 650HP and 820Nm of Torque. Handcrafted by Michael Kübler @f1mike28 In Germany Affalterbach.

Driving Performance is our Passion! Mercedes-AMG the Performance and Sports Car Brand from Mercedes-Benz. Mercedes-AMG the Home of Driving Performance in Germany Affalterbach. Mercedes-AMG Handcrafted by Racers.

#amg #slr722 #slr722s #slrmclaren #slr #mercedesamg #mercedes #mercedesbenz #mclaren #affalterbach #onemanoneengine

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derautofan · 5 years

Photo

Mercedes-Benz 300 SLR #0004/55. This is the SLR that was driven to victory at the 1955 Millie Miglia by Stirling Moss and co-driver Denis Jenkinson, and is the car that the Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren 722 Edition pays homage to. via http://autofan.xyz

#car #cars #supercars #luxury car #sportscar #muscle car

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leagueofwags · 5 years

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Übersicht 2018/2019 Special- Premier League: Arsenal London

Petr Cech und seine Frau Martina

Bernd Leno und seine Freundin Sophie Christin

Héctor Bellerín Sokratis und seine Frau Xanthippi

Laurent Koscielny und seine Frau Claire

Stephan Lichtsteiner und seine Frau Manuela

Rob Holding und seine Freundin Paige

Nacho Monreal und seine Frau Isabelle

Shkodran Mustafi und seine Frau Vjosa

Carl Jenkinson Konstantinos Mavropanos und seine Freundin Maria

Sead Kolasinac (scheint so, als seien er und Jana getrennt) Mohamed Elneny und seine Frau

Henrikh Mkhitaryan und seine Freundin Betty

Aaron Ramsey und seine Frau Colleen

Mesut Özil und seine Freundin Amine

Lucas Torreira und seine Freundin Vittoria

Ainsley Maitland-Niles Denis Suarez und seine Freundin Nadia

Matteo Guendouzi Granit Xhaka und seine Frau Leonita

Alexandre Lacazette Pierre-Emerick Aubameyang und seine Frau Alysha

Alexander Iwobi Danny Welbeck

#übersicht 2018/2019 #arsenal wags #wags #arsenal london

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sexydeathparty · 2 years

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7 Tory MPs Who Think They're Helping Boris Johnson But Are Actually Making It Worse

Quite a few Tory MPs want Boris Johnson to resign. But the prime minister does still have some allies willing to defend him in public — with varying degrees of success.

Dominic Raab

Luckily we have Dominic Raab to remind us about the rule of 19 If They’re Wearing Suits And There’s A Baby Present which was definitely in place. pic.twitter.com/f8vppv2RC8

— David Schneider (@davidschneider) December 20, 2021

The deputy prime minister and justice secretary, who got a less important job but a shinier title in the most recent reshuffle, has done his best to downplay the seriousness of the partygate allegations. One gathering in the Downing Street garden could not be a party, he explained, because those photographed eating cheese and drinking wine were “all in suits”.

Nadine Dorries

The culture secretary is probably Johnson’s closely ally in cabinet. In a series of spiky tweets she has attacked the rebels as “a handful of egos” and, as things appeared to be calming down, poked fun at Tory MPs from the so-called Red Wall for being part of a “pork pie” plot to oust the PM.

Dinner on long journey home after a very cold 🥶 day in the NE. Pork pies are only really any good for one thing. 🍴 pic.twitter.com/94gmIBFb6m

— Nadine Dorries (@NadineDorries) January 27, 2022

Jacob Rees-Mogg

youtube

The Commons leader dismissed the leader of the Scottish Tories as a “lightweight” after Douglas Ross called for Johnson to resign. An intervention that will have done wonders for the Union. Rees-Mogg also decided to warn off would-be rebels by wronglarguing a general election would need to be held if the party chose a new leader.

Conor Burns

"He was ambushed with a cake." A Conservative MP says that a birthday celebration held in Downing Street for Boris Johnson wasn't a "premeditated party". Conor Burns tells @cathynewman that he supports Boris Johnson and that "the public will ultimately judge". pic.twitter.com/EGy0lcxXLA

— Channel 4 News (@Channel4News) January 25, 2022

The Northern Ireland minister, another close ally of the PM, explained Johnson had not deliberately attended a short party in Downing Street, rather that he had been in fact “ambushed with a cake”. Burns also went onto argue that in fact “there actually wasn’t a cake”.

Every Westminster scandal has a standout moment, and this one made it to the White House, with Joe Biden’s press secretary jokingly denying the president had not himself ever been surprised by cake.

Andrew Rosindell

we thought ambushed by cake would be a high point but here is Tory MP Andrew Rosindell defending Boris Johnson by saying people break the law all the time and at least “he’s not robbed a bank” pic.twitter.com/Yh3nXGkH3r

— Matthew Champion (@matthewchampion) January 26, 2022

Sure, the prime minister might have broken the rules, but the MP for Romford argued everyone was getting a bit overexcited. "Lots of people break the law in small ways, sometimes unintentionally,” he told Sky News. “He’s not robbed a bank.”

Mark Jenkinson

Johnson could be in line for a Fixed Penalty Notice (FPN) should he be found to have broken Covid regulations. But Jenkinson, the MP for Workington, rode to the rescue to argue they were just a “minor” punishment.

Fixed Penalty Notices are given out for prescribes minor breaches of law. They’re not fines, convictions or proof of guilt - all of which can only be handed out or determined by a court. I know we’ve descended into a political fake news cesspit, but facts matter.

— Mark Jenkinson MP (@markjenkinsonmp) February 3, 2022

Adam Wagner, the human rights barrister who has spent a lot of time explaining the Covid laws, was not so sure. “This is wrong,” he told Jenkinson.

“A fixed penalty notice can only be given if the police *reasonably believe someone has committed a criminal offence* under the coronavirus regulations. They are not minor. On the contrary, the PM and government spent 2 years telling us they were deadly serious.”

Boris Johnson

The prime minister is sometimes arguably his own worst enemy. In an attempt to change the story, Johnson accused Keir Starmer of having “failed” to prosecute Jimmy Savile when he was director of prosecution. The claim, which has been widely discredited, was cited by at least one senior Tory MP as a reason why they had submitted a letter calling for a no confidence vote.

Related...

All The Tory MPs Publicly Calling For Boris Johnson To Go

Nadine Dorries Was Caught Gazing At Boris Johnson And A New Meme Was Born

from HuffPost UK - Athena2 - All Entries (Public) https://ift.tt/Np3ojZBq2 via IFTTT

#IFTTT #HuffPost UK - Athena2 - All Entries (Public)

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