๐ซก ๐ฌ๐ง
101-year-old D-Day veteran Alec Penstone died 28 May 2026, his heart broken by modern Britain.
His final words must be your manifesto:
โThe sacrifice wasnโt worth the resultโฆ we fought for freedom and itโs worse than when I fought for it.โ
Mass immigration and open borders betrayed every fallen comrade.
This is Alecโs last wish โ take Britain back.
#AlecPenstone #StopTheBoats #Remembrance #BritainFirst
I've pieced together this incredibly rare & precious Edwardian colour movie, filmed 118 years ago at Upton Manor Farm in Southwick, England. This is the Autumn Harvest of 1908, showing rural life in the UK just 7 years after the end of the Victoria Era, when our life and work was considerably less mechanised.
This is amongst the earliest British colour films, which was made via Kinemacolour, developed by George Albert Smith in 1906. It employed a spinning 2-colour filter system of red and green filters to replicate "full colour". The separate colour frames line up pretty well, except fo shots of lateral movement, such as the horse's legs where the individual coloured filters become much more apparent.
The music I've used is the Largo movement from Dvoลรกk's Symphony No. 9, "From the New World", which is rather ironic considering the film shows us scenes of the Old World long gone.
Watch until the end, which leaves us a charming little love story. Though perhaps she waved her fellow off to War on the Western Front 6 years later...
(One of my hobbies is to collect old colour film footage, and if you enjoy this example I might share a few extra videos on my account)
His lighthouse stood for 123 years. And in the end it was not the tower that failed.
It was the rock underneath it. ๐ฌ๐ง
Two lighthouses stood on the Eddystone Rocks before him, 14 miles south of Plymouth, and the sea destroyed them both. The first, built of wood, vanished without trace in the Great Storm of 1703, taking its builder and 5 other men with it. The second stood for 47 years, then burned one December night in 1755, down to the rock it stood on. ๐ฅ
So Britain faced a question: how do you build on a rock the sea owns?
The Royal Society's answer was not a lighthouse man. It was John Smeaton, an Englishman from Austhorpe near Leeds, a maker of scientific instruments who had turned his mind to engineering.
He started with a question nobody had thought to ask. Why does an oak tree survive a storm? Wide at the root, narrow at the top. So he shaped his tower like the trunk of an oak. Wood had washed away and wood had burned, so he built in granite, every block dovetailed into its neighbours like a carpenter's joint in stone, pinned with dowels of marble. For the mortar he ran experiment after experiment until he proved which limestone sets hard even underwater, a lime the Romans had used whose science had been lost. He worked out why and brought it back.
3 years, 1756 to 1759, 14 miles out in the open sea. Then the lamp was lit, and the sea came to test it, winter after winter. It did not move.
He went on to build bridges, harbours, canals and mills across Britain, and because the only engineers Britain named were soldiers, he called himself a civil engineer, the first man in Britain to do it. In 1771 he and 6 others met in a London tavern and founded the first engineering society anywhere in the world. It still exists. ๐๏ธ
His light burned for 123 years. When engineers finally found a fault in 1877, it was in the reef, not the tower. The sea was wearing away the rock beneath it. His tower had outlasted the rock it stood on.
In 1882 the lamp went out for the last time. But nobody scrapped his tower. The top came down stone by stone and went back up on Plymouth Hoe, where it stands today in its red and white bands. You can climb it.
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Look at any lighthouse standing on a British rock. That curve is his oak, still holding.
We are the home of British heroes.
There is a place for you in it.
๐ https://t.co/rih7iKwnvf ๐
Be part of us. โ๏ธ๐ฌ๐ง
Be Proud Of Us. ๐๐ฌ๐ง
A beautiful tribute to Ann Widdecombe.
โI watched her with drivers, waiters, waitresses, she was kind to everybody. Frankly, this was somebody who gave her life to public service...She herself would not have harmed a fly.โ
Some lions were about to hunt a baby buffalo, and its mother went to defend it.
And when it seemed they were going to eat them both, the entire herd fell.
This is real footage from 120 years ago.
None of the people in it knew that the city around them had four days left...
What you are watching is a cable car gliding down Market Street in San Francisco, filmed on the 14th of April, 1906.
The camera was mounted on the front of the car, so you see the city exactly as it was: the crowds, the horse-drawn carriages, the early automobiles weaving through traffic, the men in hats, the great buildings rising on either side. An ordinary spring afternoon in a thriving American city.
Four days later, on the morning of the 18th of April, a magnitude 7.9 earthquake struck. The shaking lasted under a minute, but it ignited fires that burned through the city for days...
By the time it was over, more than 3,000 people were dead and roughly 80 percent of San Francisco had been destroyed. Almost every building you see in this footage was gone.
And the film itself nearly went with it.
The negative was placed on a train bound for New York on the 17th of April, the day before the earthquake. Had it left a single day later, it would have burned in the fire along with the studio that made it.
This entire moving record of a lost city survives because of one day...
We are used to seeing the 1920s in black and white. This is what London actually looked like, in full color, more than a hundred years ago.
What you are watching comes from The Open Road, filmed in the summer of 1924 by a British cinematographer named Claude Friese-Greene. It is some of the earliest colour film of London ever made.
What I love about this film is that the color collapses the distance between us and them.
The black-and-white footage we are used to is beautiful, but it makes the past feel like another world. Colour changes that. Red buses, a blue sky, the green of the trees, and suddenly 1924 does not feel like history at all...
What most people don't know is that this footage was one man's attempt to finish his father's life's work: Claude was the son of William Friese-Greene, one of the pioneers of early cinema. Together they had spent years developing a way to capture true color on film, using a system of spinning red and blue-green filters in front of the camera. The process was flawed. It flickered, it produced strange color fringes around anything that moved too fast, and it was soon overtaken by better systems and forgotten. Claude set out on a journey by car from Land's End to the north of Scotland, filming the whole country in his imperfect color, trying to prove that his father's dream could work.
For decades the footage sat largely unseen, its flaws making it almost unwatchable. Then, in our own century, the British Film Institute used digital technology to clean away the flicker and the fringing, revealing what Friese-Greene had actually captured: a lost world, brought back to life in color.
This is real footage from 126 years ago.
What you are watching is the trottoir roulant, the moving sidewalk, built for the great World's Fair in Paris in 1900.
More than a century ago, three years before the Wright brothers would make the first airplane flight, the city built an electric street that carried you across itself while you simply stood there...
It ran in a loop of around three and a half kilometres, raised on a viaduct above the fairgrounds, with nine stations where you could step on and off.
And it had a clever design: two moving platforms side by side, one going at walking pace and one faster, so you could step onto the slow one first, then onto the quick one, and ride the whole circuit in about twenty-six minutes without taking a single step.
Nearly fifty million people came to that fair, and for most of them it was the first time they had ever moved through a place without taking a step.
The very first moving walkway had appeared seven years earlier, at the World's Fair in Chicago in 1893, built by the same designers. But the Paris version was longer, faster, and far more sophisticated, and it was here that the world truly fell in love with the idea.
It astonished people. The thought that the ground itself could carry you felt like magic, like something out of a dream of the future. They even called it the Rue de l'Avenir: the Street of the Future.
Thomas Edison sent a crew to film it, which is why we can still watch it today...