The Green Man is an ancient symbol of nature.
Green Man or greenman phrase may also refer to:
The Green Man is a 1956 British black comedy film based on the play Meet a Body by Frank Launder and Sidney Gilliat, who produced and adapted the big-screen version.
Freelance assassin Hawkins (Sim) has plans to blow up Sir Gregory Upshott, a Cabinet minister (Huntley) when the latter is discovered to be having an affair, about to be consummated at the Green Man Hotel. However his plans are accidentally uncovered and foiled by vacuum cleaner salesman Blake (Cole) who forges an unlikely alliance with Ann (Adams), engaged to be married to a rather stuffy BBC announcer, Willoughby-Cruft (Gordon). The latter relationship breaks down when Willoughby-Cruft finds his fiancée under their bed with Blake and later, in her lingerie, accidentally entangled on the floor with him. As such, there are some romantic (and not-at-all romantic) interludes and Hawkins briefly has the task of trying to deal with Upshott's secretary, a friendly policeman, and prepare his bomb at the same time.
The Green Man cricket ground in Essex was used for a single first-class match between RN Newman's XI and R Leigh's XI in 1793. The location of the ground is likely to have been at Navestock Side, adjacent to a public house of the same name, on the site currently used by Navestock CC of the T Rippon Mid-Essex Cricket League.
SL2 may refer to:
SL2 are an English breakbeat hardcore group active in the early 1990s from London, England. They also recorded, remixed or produced under the names Slipmatt & Lime and T.H.C.
"Starting out as a group of three, SL2 was originally a coming together of DJ's Matt "Slipmatt" Nelson, John "Lime" Fernandez and rap vocalist Jason "Jay-J" James. The SL2 name came from the founders initials - Slipmatt (S) and Lime (L), and as they were a duo - hence "SL2".
As youngsters in 80s Britain, they were very much into the hip hop scene before having their heads turned by the growing rave scene.
Their big break came in 1989 through Slipmatt's older brother, who was running the now legendary party-promoting organisation Raindance, they became the enterprise's resident DJs, playing parties all over the United Kingdom.
A year into touring with Raindance, SL2 released their debut single, "Do That Dance," through B-Ware Records which sold well to fans of the rave scene. Allegedly, the practices of the record label prevented the band from ever seeing any money. Subsequently, SL2 set up their own Awesome Records label, through which they first released another single, "DJ's Take Control". The record sold 3500 copies, attracting the attention of new dance label XL Recordings.
The Silver Line is the bus rapid transit (BRT) system of the Massachusetts Bay Transportation Authority (MBTA). It currently operates four routes in two sections that were built in separate phases.
The first section has two routes from Dudley Square in Roxbury, mostly via Washington Street, to Boston's Downtown Crossing (SL5) and South Station (SL4), using articulated buses operating in reserved lanes. The second section runs from South Station Under to South Boston (SL2) and to Logan Airport in East Boston (SL1). It runs dual-mode buses, partly in a dedicated bus tunnel and partly on shared roadway, including surface streets, the Ted Williams Tunnel, and airport roads. Riders can transfer between the sections and to other lines at South Station; transfers there between SL1, SL2, and the Red Line—but not SL4—are within fare control. At South Station, however, a transfer from SL1, SL2, and the Red Line to SL4 (and vice versa) can be made by walking alongside streets.
Speed and schedule performance have disappointed some transit advocates and the Silver Line routes fall far short of the minimum BRT Standard promulgated by the Institute for Transportation and Development Policy (ITDP). Some sections have an exclusive right-of-way, but other sections are bogged down by street running in congested mixed traffic. As of September 2014, a contract has been awarded for the first phase of an extension to Chelsea, Massachusetts, largely in reserved right-of-way; other extensions of the Silver Line are being studied as well.
He was already drunk, and becoming slightly pompous; the pub jukebox blared in the corner, and outside, crowds flowed with supernatural ease through the Green Park arcades, and downhill to the river, sifting through glass-fronted boutiques, leaving for Metroland and the Christmas break. I listened because I had nothing better to do: all my friends had gone, and he'd bought me a drink.
"That winter," he said, "I went back to the family house, which was then at the edge of a large and half-finished estate. It was still and quiet, backing onto a copse the bulldozers had missed when they levelled the heath. The drab light lent everything an insubstantiality, intensifying the curious end-of-term feeling I had, the sense that the days themselves were somehow exhausted.
Three windows took up one side of the dining room, with a steadily murmuring radiator underneath. Enamel paint curled away from the window frame in flakes and peels, and the hot metal in the room gave off its alienating, faintly acidic smell. I remember clouds drifting in, and I watched them pick up the red flare of the streetlights."
This last point emphasised by a moment of silence, which he filled with a look around the bar.
"Late one night a figure appeared in the garden. It was almost pathetic; hungry-looking. boss-eyed and twisted. Under the faint light that the room cast over the gravel, I could see that its skin was made of flowers. It was hollow. It shied like an animal, and disappeared into the wood.
I knew it - you would have too, if you'd been there; it was a figure I'd glimpsed in a car park as a child; an expression crossing the face of a stranger late one night at Waterloo Station as I hurried for a train with my parents; a carving in the portico of a mediaeval church. In some nightmarish way it was particular, and it was also infinite. It was itself, it was the wood, it was the last roses in the garden, and yet it was also a wider sentience, perhaps best described as the feeling that the trees and fields we look at have always secretly been looking back into us.
The air felt charged, somehow electric, and as I stared at the place it had been, I became aware of a smell of dust. I smelt the billions of falling microscopic specks, the ghost dust-rain that surrounds all of us, all the time. For one moment of hyper-awareness I could read its mixtures and vintages, the histories and provenance of each particle of dust in the room. And faintly, hauntingly, somewhere on the edge of all the others, I smelt the surviving dust of 1978.
It was a dust of forgotten piano lessons; church halls; school gatherings in terrapin huts. Back then, to a child's nose, even the smell of glass differed from room to room, and for one second I could smell all the mirrors and the windows of those lost days, the unbounded spaces between them; it was a dust of the exhaust fumes of Austin Allegros, the naked wooden floors of a new house, bike tyres and long-discontinued cigarette brands. A dust that conjured pools of evening light, mysterious journeys, finished lives, dreads and hopes of an almost atavistic intensity.
I blinked, I seem to remember I was terrified, but at the same time so surprised, so overwhelmed with longing, with love for the past, love for the dead, that at that moment fear had no real meaning: I inhabited a bright, blank space that I'd encountered once before when I dislocated my knee on a rugby field.
Then neither quickly nor gradually, it was gone. The room returned, and with it the seamlessness, the ordinary loneliness of the night. I never saw that figure, or anything like him, again.
Days later, when the weather had broken, I looked over the hill, past the woods, and the developer's tracks and pylons. The freezing air seemed to distort the sounds of the construction vehicles, and their bleeps and revs sang like human voices. I remember thinking, 'If the world was one degree stranger, one degree more fluid, I could have escaped and joined myself back there, I could have disappeared forever. But it isn't, and I'm stranded here, split into two, getting ready for bed in a dormitory town.' "