LIGHT FLIGHT TRAVEL SCALE - LIGHT FLIGHT

LIGHT FLIGHT TRAVEL SCALE - DISCOUNTED AIRLINE TICKET - JORDAN TRUE FLIGHT TODDLERS.

Light Flight Travel Scale


light flight travel scale
    light flight
  • Light Flight is a compilation album (2 CDs) by Pentangle. It was released in 1997 on Snapper Music SMD CD 154. It was also issued on the Recall label in 1997. Three of the tracks are from John Renbourn albums.
    travel scale
  • A device attached to a spring unit, whose purpose is to provide for an indication of the vertical pipe movement.
light flight travel scale - Cabin Max
Cabin Max Digital Portable Travel Luggage Scale with built in 8 LED Torch
Cabin Max Digital Portable Travel Luggage Scale with built in 8 LED Torch
Great new model features a built in torch, makes this is a useful gadget before, during and returning from holiday. Easy grip handle ergonomically designed for easy lifting. Features digital display on top of scale so you can look down and see reading. Don't worry about excess baggage charges at the airport anymore. Don't use your bathroom scales to weigh your baggage, they are generally not very accurate! No frills flights such as Ryanair and Easyjet are very strict on their weights and you will be charged a lot EXTRA should your luggage exceed them. The ultimate travel gadget, it is small and lightweight (175g) so you can pack it and take it away with you so you don't get caught out in a foreign airport with all those holiday gifts. Additional features include reset function, Auto power off, Data lock function, Overload indication, Low battery indicator, Blue Backlight. High precision strain gauge sensor. 12 month money back guarantee

78% (12)
Gang Aft Agley (3)
Gang Aft Agley (3)
Eventually we all clambered back upon the bus and headed on our way again. Deeper and deeper still into Georgia, further and further away from the tourist trimmings of Turkey. What I had hated about Turkey was quickly becoming what I wanted. Just a glimpse of familiarity, of another traveller, another western symbol would have been welcomed. But there were none. I had, just as I had planned, managed to haul myself alone into the second world and there was no turning back. Time to get the chin up and the head sorted. As my Georgian friends slumbered into the early evening I made a point of looking out of the window. Of taking in everything that this country had to show me. I saw some glorious, swooping green valleys. Rivers running torrent through them, birds of prey swooping high above them. I saw the Caucasus range loom like a clan of sleeping giants in the distance. Black marks against the blue, blue sky. I saw flickers of charm and beauty and for each one of these my heart lifted. In the distances and scale of this country was a noble grace that was obvious, something to latch onto for an unsteady heart. Sadly what I also saw were the scar marks of some quiet, unreported disaster. For every moment of natural beauty I saw factories piling in on themselves, as redundant, empty and forgotten as the towns that swarmed around them. I saw whole villages of people sitting hunched by piles of fresh fruit. The piles were not any sign of prosperity or economic activity. These were the abundant crop of an agricultural land. An abundant crop that had no market since the Russians turned their back and closed the border. This fruit was on display out of desperation and much of it would rot in a day or two, there was not enough money and never enough people in this place to buy it all. I saw empty petrol stations and abandoned homes mar the horizon. Dusty vehicles piled up in their forecourts, long-lost furniture piled up in neglected back-yards. As we drew nearer to Tblisis, the capital, I saw the refugee camps. Ordered, squat little houses with their meagre gardens and unpaved roads. They were brutal in some quietly efficient way. While all the natural gifts made the unknown distances seem alluring, the welts and bruises of a battered country always seemed so close, so near to me that I could see no way that I could enjoy my time here. From time to time one of my bus bound companions would point something out to me and I would smile and nod. Grinning through my pathetic regret that I had ever come here. These people were so proud, so determined to share what little wealth, natural or otherwise that they had with me and I sat there wishing that they and their country would go away. That I had just booked that flight to Thailand, that I had spent my money on beer in Australia, that I had checked into any other place but here. We rolled through Kutaisi, the second city of Georgia and the bus yapped in excitement. People grabbed at me and pointed to look upon their great city, my Dutch companion told me of the great roofless Cathedral that inhabits the city centre, of the bats that would swoop along the Rioni river at dusk, of the great restaurants she once visited. All around me people were smiling and nodding. I smiled and nodded back but all I saw was a wasted old town. Crumbling roads and sinking buildings, wrecked cars and slumbering people. Every street we passed seemed to have a washed out dusty, sepia tone and I felt an odd feeling. Anger or maybe regret. Anger at this place outside the window, anger at how I let it bring me down. I wanted once more to turn this bus around and head for safety. Not home, just safety. Of course, I couldn't do that. It was far too late for that. I was committed to a month travelling alone in the Caucasus area and this was but day one. The bus carried on its way, the people pointed and nodded, I nodded and pointed back at them. All the while wishing they and their crackpot country would just vanish from my view. Finally, 27 long hours later, we clambered out of our bus and onto the pot-holed surface of Ortachala, the out of town bus station in Tblisi. I said my goodbyes to my Georgian friends as they swiftly vanished into the night. My Dutch companion, a constant source of help throughout, guided me to a shabby 1970's era Mercedes, a taxi apparently, and I clambered in. The Iranian man from the bus approached me and in perfect English asked if he could join me and if I knew of a place to stay. He seemed nervous, lost and I did have some vague idea of where we could rest. We both got into the taxi, bartered our way to a decent far and made our way into the city. I was glad for the company. We were dropped off at Marjanishvilli, one of the main thoroughfares in Tblisi and brusquely ushered up the street. 'House bed up there' said the taxi driver and sped off into the half lit murk of the night. After a few lost scuffles down some side streets, my backpack weighing heavy up
the silk road
the silk road
Shakhrisabz is Timur's hometown, and once upon a time it probably put Samarkand itself in the shade. Ak Saray, Shakhrisabz Shahrisabz is, above all, associated with the Ak-Saray palace. Many amazing legends are linked with the history of the palace's construction. According to one of them, Timur began to think of building a magnificent edifice, summoned an architect and set out his objective. After listening to the ruler, the architect asked to be allowed into the state exchequer. When permission was granted, the craftsman started to make foundation blocks from clay mixed with gold in full view of Timur. Seeing that the ruler remained impassive, he broke up the blocks and returned the gold to the exchequer. When Timur asked: "Why did you do that?" the architect replied: "So as to make sure of your determination to embark on constructing a building that requires vast expenditure." A second legend recounts that, after the main building work had been completed, Timur began to tell the craftsmen to hurry up and finish the decorative facing of the palace. But they were in no hurry to cover the building with majolica and mosaic. When the angry ruler ordered the chief architect to be brought before him, it emerged that had vanished after hanging a chain in the centre of the palace's main arch. Since no other craftsman of equal stature could be found, the building remained unfinished. Some time later, however, the architect suddenly appeared and, after making sure that the chain on the entrance arch was now considerably lower, embarked on decorating the building. When Timur demanded an explanation of his strange flight and sudden reappearance, the architect replied: "I dared not disobey my sovereign's command, but I could not carry it out either. Stern punishment awaited me in either case, since such a majestic building had to settle and bed down firmly in the ground, otherwise all the decoration on it would be destroyed." The great ruler appreciated the craftsman's wisdom and resourcefulness. The palace building in Shahrisabz took over a quarter of a century to construct. The Spanish ambassador, Ruy Gonzalez de Clavijo, who passed through Shahrisabz in 1404 on his way to the court of Timur in Samarkand, was astounded and charmed by the architectural miracle, and he left a detailed description of it, noting, however, that the splendid artistic decoration of the palace was still unfinished. The overall layout, scale and artistic appearance of Ak-Saray can be reconstituted from the descriptions of contemporaries and eyewitnesses, as well as from the results of archaeological excavation at the site. According to written accounts, the palace consisted of several stately, living or service quarters, grouped around separate courtyards.The overall scale of the palace is impressive: the main courtyard alone, which has been reconstituted from the microrelief, was 120 - 125 m wide and 240 - 250 m long. The size of the other courtyards and of the outer perimeter of the palace has not been reconstructed owing to severe disturbance of the microrelief in the 15th - 16th centuries. Calculation of the proportions of the surviving elements of the site makes it fairly certain that the height of the main portal reached 70 m. It was topped by arched pinnacles (ko'ngra), while corner towers on a multifaceted pedestal were at least 80 m high. The main entrance portal was 50 m wide, and the arch had the largest span, 22.5 m, in Central Asia. The architectural decor, featuring a wide variety of designs and colours, is particularly noteworthy in the artistic appearance of Ak-Saray. When using various techniques, however, the craftsmen bore in mind that the palace's main portal faced north, towards the capital, Samarkand. Given the poor light, the rchitects used only flat segmentation here and hence a continuous decorative treatment. The use of brick mosaic work, mainly dark and light blue in colour, forming large geometrical and epigraphic designs on a background of polished building brick, gives the portal a special softness of colour and an air of grand mystery. The various mosaic and majolica work in the niche of the portal is particularly refined and highly coloured. The delicately executed foliate ornamentation incorporates exquisite calligraphic inscriptions of mainly Koranic content, although secular ones are found too. In the midst of the decorative facing, an inscription has survived, giving the date of completion, 798 (1395 - 1396), and the name of the craftsman, Muhammad Yusuf Tebrizi (from the Azeri city of Tabriz). According to Clavijo, who visited Ak-Saray, "in this palace was a very long entrance and a very high portal, and by the entrance, to right and left, were brick arches covered with tiles painted with various designs. Beneath these arches was what looked like small rooms without doors, and the floor inside t

light flight travel scale
light flight travel scale
Light Flight: The Anthology
Two CD set. Pretty much the first UK Folk-Rock supergroup and the inventors of the sound that would later be adopted by Fairport, Trees and others. Pentangle were an unusual agglomeration of seemingly disparate talents, and at their best succeeded in mixing elements of traditional Folk, Jazz improvisation and Pop into a seamless whole. Featuring the brilliant and contrasting guitar talents of Bert Jansch and John Renbourn, against the rhythmic undertow provided by drummer Terry Cox and superb bass player Danny Thompson, and topped off with the bell-like purity of Jacqui McShee's vocals, Pentangle garnered much critical acclaim. This is the perfect introduction to their work. 31 tracks. Castle Music.

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