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Hansen Clarke (DDetroit), and the track record of the pollster, IMP made the call to report on another internal survey.
Hansen Clarke (DDetroit), and the track record of the pollster, IMP made the call to report on another internal survey.
Finding Le Coeur A Tale of Love and Regret By Don Carlson It seemed that the only meaningful question on a Friday was, ‘Do you find a party or do you put gas in the old Chrysler and go home to mom and dad?’ This college campus had little else to offer. Clarke hated Fridays. Seven weeks into his first year, and he loved every aspect of college life except for this. University of Wisconsin Eau Claire had made its way on to some stupid list of great party schools in a magazine likely to be found at the grocery store check out. Whoopee Ding. His roommate Duke, a washedup high school baseball pitcher, had found a third option to fill his free time. A sophomore girl with an apartment across campus had made room between her sheets for Duke to move into for a portion of each weekend. While Clarke didn’t dislike his roommate, it was a break to not have to listen to him rattle on endlessly about the Green Bay Packers. Few things in this world are more obnoxious than a diehard Packer fan. The dorm had felt like an anthill earlier that afternoon. More than a few students had packed their cars full of dirty laundry to haul back to mom. After supper at the dining hall, Clarke parked in the TV lounge with a couple of physics majors to watch a rerun of Hogan’s Heroes, followed by a parade of mindless sitcoms. He mused about how there had to be something more meaningful than this crap. Going for a run would have been a good idea had he started sooner. Now, it was getting dark. He always liked the idea of running. But when it came time to hit the road by himself, it was never as pleasurable as it was when he ran with a couple of other guys on his floor. Maybe it was because he was built a little more like a plow horse than a thoroughbred. Hiking in the woods with a backpack was more his style. That is the way he really would have enjoyed spending his summer, but much of the past few months were consumed working out in the sun on a paving crew to save up some money for school. Since running alone didn’t prove to be the most stimulating option, Clarke considered the fact that there was one last beer parked in the fridge back in the room. That would taste good, but the Resident Assistant would get in a knot if Clarke got caught bringing it back to the TV lounge. The Dorm Director had made it sound like having alcohol was a big nono, but in reality they just dumped it out if they caught you with it. It was almost time that he could go to bed, but if Clarke fell asleep now, a steady stream of partiers would wake him up every ten minutes for the next couple of hours. Knocking on several doors to see who might still be around, he didn’t get any response from the rooms that usually welcomed him. Maybe a long walk would provide a good chance to enjoy the crisp evening fall air of westcentral Wisconsin. It really was a beautiful time of year. Though it wasn’t so obvious at night, the leaves were near their peak color. As Clarke headed down the walkway through the central part of campus, there wasn’t anyone other than a young couple holding hands, seemingly headed to a romantic destination. A brief pang of jealousy rose up in Clarke’s chest. He pondered how his walk might be a good bit more enjoyable with a feminine hand to hold. There had been a girl in Clarke’s life just a few months ago. Ellen had come from a large family, all of whom had been generally decent to him. She was a year younger, and got seriously depressed when his graduation approached. His thoughts were more often turned toward college, and less toward her. Apparently, her dreams were filled with a wedding and babies, so there was an abundance of tears and angst over the whole business of breaking up. This was way too much drama for Clarke. By the time fall came, it was a welcome relief to pack up for school and hit the road. After walking to the north end of campus, Clarke turned to cross the bridge. It spanned the Chippewa River at a point where it was only fifty yards wide. The campus had been built on the wooded banks of the southeast side, just downstream from a small park. It truly was gorgeous. The part of the park that lay on the other side of the river was filled with oak trees hanging onto their rustred leaves, providing a quiet place to watch the lights of the campus shimmer off of the water. Clarke swept away a small pile of leaves that had accumulated on an old park bench, with the hope of taking in the scene. The air had turned cooler than he had anticipated, so he decided that only a few minutes of solitude would be possible before he had to swing back toward the dorm. To Clarke, life felt like it had been one big contradiction. It seemed that he fit in everywhere … but nowhere. In high school, football and baseball had been the sports that he participated in, but he rarely got to pick his butt up off the bench. That didn’t exactly put him in with the real jocks. Taking calculus and physics had him in classes with all of the bright kids, though he really didn’t care all that much about working hard or getting good grades. There were a couple of friends who were rebels or rowdies, but booze or drugs were of no interest, so he didn’t want to go down that road. Much of the way through high school he had a fair number of female friends, but until Ellen had come along, he had been scared to death of asking a girl out on a date. Given the choice between asking a girl out and facing a firing squad, he would prefer the firing squad. What was the worst that the firing squad could do? A girl could make life really miserable. As he sat watching the river go by, he found himself longing for just one clear direction in his life … one thing of which he could be certain. Sitting quietly with his thoughts, Clarke heard someone rustling through the fallen leaves a little way down the river. He sat as still as possible, hoping that maybe he wouldn’t be seen … or bothered. It became clear that it was a young woman, partly because of the way she walked, and partly because of the feminine voice mumbling to herself. She also seemed to be crying. Not more than a few feet away, the figure stopped in the shadows, realizing that she was being watched. Rather than turn and walk away, she just stood still, trying to gather her composure. “Are you okay?” Clarke asked, not sure how intrusive he should be. “Ya … ya … I’ll be fine. I just need … to ….” Her voice trailed off without the conclusion she was wishing for. “Would you like to sit for a while?” Clarke thought that he had caught a pretty good whiff of beer and cigarette smoke coming from this person silhouetted among the trees. “Listen … this was really stupid of me to wander into this strange park late at night … all alone. I’ve endured enough trouble for one day.” After a prolonged silence she asked, “I realize this is a insanely stupid question, but are you … okay? I mean, are you going to attack me … or do something … or …?” “Well, I suppose if I were going to attack you, I would have done it already. But this park bench might be as safe a place as you will find close by. Otherwise, you should know that this generally isn’t the safest park in the world for a woman to be by herself late at night.” The shadow didn’t move for a long moment as she pondered the possibilities set before her. Finally, as she took the last few steps that were required to arrive at the bench, Clarke got the strong impression that she was drunk … maybe very drunk. Since he had come to college, he had enjoyed a few beers with his friends now and then, but it never seemed interesting to be around people who were drunk. From the lights that shimmered across the river he could tell that she was a fairly attractive girl, though rather disheveled under the circumstances. “I left my ‘knight in shining armor’ suit at home, but is there anything I can do to help?” The distressed young woman looked at Clarke like he had said something incomprehensible. She took a long minute to process his question. “Holy crap … I just escaped one pile of heartaches … and have nowhere to go.” “I could walk you back to your apartment … or dorm, if you like?” “Damn … if it were that easy. That would be one unbelievably long walk.” It would have been easiest to start asking questions about her situation, but Clarke concluded that it might just be safest to just keep his mouth shut, and let her disclose whatever she might wish. “Soo … what is your name, Mr. Knight without his Shining Armor?” “Clarke. Sorry … but I will remember the shining armor next time. How about you, Miss Damsel in Distress?” “Hannah … and yes … I am in distress … truly deep doo doo. I suppose I could share the whole stupid story. Then you can whisk me up on your great white horse, and take me away ... or maybe shoot me and dump my body in the river.” She looked out at the river just a few feet in front of them, “You wouldn’t have far to drag my body.” Hannah began with a deep breath, “You see, a couple of months ago, I started dating this guy I worked with at a YMCA camp during the summer. I thought his armor was shining too, but now I find out that it has a good bit of tarnish. Anyway, we went out a several times at the end of the summer, and I got all caught up in hanging out with a real jock … something that NEVER happened to me in high school …a hockey player, no less.” “When August came, I started college at St. Olaf … a nice, quiet Lutheran school on a hill. Good girls go to school there, right? I’ve loved it there … vocal music major … probably elementary education minor … who knows. Then the Jerk … also known as Aaron, invites me up here for a weekend of fun. Pathetic me …I had fallen for this bad boy. I was ready to give up the whole virginity crap for him … got on the pill and everything.” Clarke found this amazing. A girl was actually spilling her guts. This had never happened to him before. Perhaps it was the booze that had broken her tongue loose. He patiently waited to hear the rest of the story. “So today after classes were done, I caught a ride with a friend here to Eau Claire. Naturally, after I got here, the party started. There were several friends of Mr. Hockey, and a girlfriend of one of the guys. I had enjoyed a few parties down at St. Olaf, but nothing like this. THIS was serious drinking. I have a feeling there might have been a pill in there somewhere too. Let’s just say, I am so unbelievably wasted that I don’t know … I don’t know which planet I’ve arrived on.” Just looking at her eyes, Clarke could tell that Hannah was not exaggerating. “So the party got a little wild?” “Wild? I wish it were just wild. After a few hours of their kind of wild, the girlfriend … her name was Cherry … or Carol … or whatever. Anyway, she told me that she had overheard someone saying that my dear boyfriend was looking forward to sharing more than his booze with his hockey buddies. I guess that meant they were hoping to pass me around. Even my poor, scrambled brain told me that this wasn’t a good idea. I slipped out the back door of their apartment building and started walking. I must have walked six or eight blocks before I got to this park. I have no clue how to get back, even if I wanted to. I fell down at least twice walking in the dark, skinning my elbow and twisting my wrist. I probably look like deathwarmedover. So there you have it … one serious damsel in distress.” With that, the last word fell out of her mouth and silence returned. Hannah sat there quietly for a couple of minutes until a deep, frightened sob broke the silence. She buried her face in her hands. Clarke had the urge to put his arm around her to comfort her, but she probably wasn’t in the mood to trust a man … any man. So he just sat with her as she cried. He couldn’t help but notice that it was continuing to get cooler outside. “Not to be too obvious, but it sounds like you need a place to sleep this off … someplace safe.” Clarke didn’t have a clue what would be possible … or even open at this hour of the night. He thought that calling the police might be an option, but that would probably mean that Hannah would get in some amount of trouble. He wasn’t sure she really deserved more of that. “You could come back to my dorm. There’s probably someone on the girl’s floor with a spare bed.” “I’m supposed to trust you?” She looked at Clarke through her glassy eyes. “You aren’t going to haul me up to your room and rip my clothes off?” “I’m not trying to talk you into anything. It’s up to you.” Hannah stared at Clarke, trying her best to look through the fog, working to figure out if she could trust this guy that she just met. After a minute she frowned and mused, “I guess there are no great options. Be good to me … please?” She grabbed his arm and squeezed it extra hard, hoping that he would know how serious she was … and how frightened. Helping Hannah back on her feet was not so easy. Her world was spinning around a little more randomly than was helpful. Walking across the uneven ground in the park provided plenty of challenges. At one point she very nearly went down, almost pulling Clarke down with her, but he got things generally headed back in the right direction. After they got up onto the bridge, it went better. There was little risk of her flopping over the railing, but he looked down at the cold water and thought about how she wouldn’t last a few seconds if she fell in. It seemed like every few years there was a drunken college student who made that mistake, and didn’t fare so well. He kept her on the inside part of the walkway. Hiking back across to the north side of the campus was somewhat less challenging. Hannah still held on tight to his arm. Clarke wondered if it was just to keep her balance, or if it provided some small amount of comfort. As they walked, she became more talkative, going back and forth between life back at St. Olaf and what an idiot she had been to trust Mr. Hockey. More than a few times she repeated elements of the story that she had first shared down in the park, adding a different slant with each telling. “Okay … we’re getting close to my dorm. You need to act as sober as possible. We don’t need anyone suspicious about what we are doing. If nothing else works out, I will get you a blanket and a pillow, and you can sleep in the TV lounge on the girl’s floor.” Hannah didn’t say a word as they crossed through the entry of the dorm. The guy at the front desk took a second to appraise the situation, giving Clarke a smirk at the thought of his good fortune. As they got in the elevator, heading for the fifth floor, Hannah winced, “Is there any chance I could find a bathroom? I gotta pee in a big away.” Clarke unlocked the door to his room and steered Hannah toward the door to the bath. Each pair of dorm rooms shared a bathroom in between, so first he took a quick glance to see if a neighbor might be using it. He was pretty certain that those guys had both gone away for the weekend, but checked to make sure. With Hannah shuffling around in the bathroom, Clarke listened to make sure there weren’t any crashes or screams. The shuffling fell to silence after a moment. He concluded he was taking care of business without additional drama. “Hannah? I’m going to go check with some female friends to see what is possible. I’ll be back in a few minutes. Will you be okay?” “Yaa … ya …….ya, I think so. I just wish the spinning would stop.” There followed another minute of silence, so Clarke headed down to the girl’s floor, hoping for a small portion of luck. At the first door he got no response. Down the hall lived another girl who had dated a friend of his for a while. With a tap on the door, he heard some voices. Slowly, the door opened a tiny bit. “Clarke … what are you doing? It must be 2 o’clock.” “There is a girl who is in serious need of a place to sleep tonight. Any chance … ?” “Aaaah … I already have some … company, so … maybe some other time?” The girl looked over her shoulder and smiled coyly. The door closed without another word. This wasn’t working out so well. Clarke wasn’t much in the mood to go knocking on any more doors at this hour. The idea about having Hannah sleep in the girl’s TV lounge seemed more reasonable by the minute. By the time he got back up to his room, there were unhappy sounds coming out of the bathroom. Apparently, Hannah’s stomach wanted to get rid of all contents, real or imagined. Every other word out of her mouth was a plea for God to be done with it all … interspersed with a few other words not usually associated with God. Clarke leaned back in Duke’s moderately comfortable recliner, ready to wait out this poor girl’s agony. Hannah really seemed to be a sweet girl. She surely didn’t deserve this kind of evening. Dozing between episodes of the dry heaves, he was a little surprised when he heard the shower turn on. Clarke walked over to the bathroom door, “Are you okay?” All he could hear over the noise of the shower was Hannah sobbing. This had to involve some sort of mess. Vomit was not one of his favorite things. All he could do was wait to see what had gotten in the way of her catharsis. After the shower finally got shut down, a humiliated voice came from behind the bathroom door, “Clarke?” “Hey … Hannah … are you feeling a little better?” “I guess so. But I have a … problem. I got puke in my hair and on my clothes … and a few other places too. I tried to rinse everything off … but now I’m … wet.” “If I found a sweat suit, would you want to change into it? I could run the dirty stuff down to the laundry. Would that be okay?” “Yaa … I guess.” “I will get a garbage bag. Put everything in it that needs to get washed, and hand it out. Then I can be back in a few minutes.” He tapped on the door to hand in the sweat suit, “It’s going to be too large, but there’s a draw string in the waist, so you should be able to make it work.” A minute later, the bag was handed back out with the unsavory contents. Grabbing a hand full of quarters and some laundry soap, he made his way down to the basement of the dorm.
CEO and co-founder Stephen Clarke sees a new partnership with Johnson Controls International Plc as a “massive vote of credibility” in his company’s technology.
Names of Guests Address Shuttle 1 22:15 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 Sasha Kovic Peppers Craigieburn Peppers Craigieburn Peppers Craigieburn Peppers Craigieburn Peppers Craigieburn Peppers Craigieburn Peppers Craigieburn Peppers Craigieburn Peppers Craigieburn Peppers Craigieburn Peppers Craigieburn Peppers Craigieburn Golfview Lodge, 5 Boronia Street Bowral Ben Dibden Katrina Dibden 17 Bundaroo Street Bowral 17 Bundaroo Street Bowral 1 1 Caroline Neild Andrew Thompson Marnie Murphy Brian Cheetham Gavin Salway Wayne Clift Emily Lye Nick Lye Imperial Hotel Bowral 1 Imperial Hotel Bowral Imperial Hotel Bowral Imperial Hotel Bowral Imperial Hotel Bowral Imperial Hotel Bowral Imperial Hotel Bowral Imperial Hotel Bowral Tim Goodhew Jeny Meyer Michael Rava Belinda Rava Bob Power Lyn Power Olivia Hopkirk Shaun Hopkirk Todd Martin Carly Allen Berida Hotel, 6 David Street Bowral Berida Hotel, 6 David Street Bowral Berida Hotel, 6 David Street Bowral Berida Hotel, 6 David Street Bowral Berida Hotel, 6 David Street Bowral Berida Hotel, 6 David Street Bowral Berida Hotel, 6 David Street Bowral Berida Hotel, 6 David Street Bowral Berida Hotel, 6 David Street Bowral Berida Hotel, 6 David Street Bowral Tim Neild Peter Christie Robyn Christie Roger Preston Stephan Davie Ellen Davie Dominic Calabria Renee Sewell Angus Mead Olivia Noakes Nathan Heard Philip Parker 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 Shuttle 2 James Fairlie Abbey Cadell 24 Clarke Street Bowral 24 Clarke Street Bowral 22:15 22:50 1 1 22:50 Daniel Stone Elliot McKenna Nathan Creary Kate Creary 24 Clarke Street Bowral 24 Clarke Street Bowral 24 Clarke Street Bowral 24 Clarke Street Bowral 1 1 1 1 Tegan Kominek Andrew Kominek Hugh Burnet Mr Burnet Mrs Burnet 18 Gladstone Road Bowral 18 Gladstone Road Bowral 18 Gladstone Road Bowral 18 Gladstone Road Bowral 18 Gladstone Road Bowral 1 1 1 1 1 Daniel Cole Morgan Cansdale Trent Shaw Yarna Halton Ryan Pomroy Ilana Rigoni Keira Williamson 11 Carlisle Street Bowral 11 Carlisle Street Bowral 11 Carlisle Street Bowral 11 Carlisle Street Bowral 11 Carlisle Street Bowral 11 Carlisle Street Bowral 11 Carlisle Street Bowral 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 Juliette Hoad Mark Rossi Divya Ramdev Amit Ramdev Lisa Robson Liam Robson 45 Retford Road Bowral 45 Retford Road Bowral 45 Retford Road Bowral 45 Retford Road Bowral 45 Retford Road Bowral 45 Retford Road Bowral 1 1 1 1 1 1 Shuttle 3 23:30 Annette Wright 17 Links Road Bowral 1 Ian Cook Erica Cook Robert Cook Stephanie Cook 565 Moss Vale Road Bowral 565 Moss Vale Road Bowral 565 Moss Vale Road Bowral 565 Moss Vale Road Bowral 1 1 1 1 Tim Anderson Annie Anderson Walton Place, Mossvale Walton Place, Mossvale 1 1 Noel Fraser Gail Fraser 14 Cutter Place East Bowral 14 Cutter Place East Bowral 1 1 Annabel Ryan John Ryan Mittagong, Range Road Mittagong, Range Road 1 1 Kuba Koltowski Paula Carlzon Louise King Ben Baltins Alex Faron 5 Spencer Street Mittagong 5 Spencer Street Mittagong 5 Spencer Street Mittagong 5 Spencer Street Mittagong 5 Spencer Street Mittagong 1 1 1 1 1 Sarah Gallard Jess Fletcher 22 Faraday Street Mittagong 22 Faraday Street Mittagong 1 1 23:30 Alex Lance Elisa Di Marco Ellen Birdsall Ben Murray Elyse Murray 22 Faraday Street Mittagong 22 Faraday Street Mittagong 22 Faraday Street Mittagong 22 Faraday Street Mittagong 22 Faraday Street Mittagong 1 1 1 1 1 David Christie Julie Christie 197 Oxley Drive Mittagong 197 Oxley Drive Mittagong 1 1
Bus Lane - Discount period Expired Steve Boffy 01/02/2017 13:42 No comments entered Scanned - Rep - Other Grounds Kayleigh.Morris 14/02/2017 06:27 Review - Client Manager Teresa Clarke 28/03/2017 13:42 No comments entered Bus Lane - NOR Teresa Clarke 28/03/2017 13:57 No comments entered Bus Lane - NOR - Printed and Posted Steve Boffy 29/03/2017 07:38 Correspondence:
WELCOME DRINKS 14.30 ~ 14.45 Jennifer Clarke WELCOME SPEECH The Worshipful the Mayor of the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea Councillor Robert Freeman THE VALUE OF VOLUNTEERS IN THE ROYAL BOROUGH OF KENSINGTON AND CHELSEA 14.45 ~ 14.50 Jennifer Clarke &
GALWAY, IRELAND CHRISTIAN MICHAEL 1918-11-05 CLARE ROBERT 1917-10-16 FRANCE GALWAY CLARKE JOHN 1916-09-12 FRANCE KILKERRIN, CO.
The claims are so outrageous that in addition to libel, they probably amount to a tortious interference with business relationships and contracts because their intent was to maliciously stop Sheriff David Clarke from continuing his business relationship with Mirahmadi and to prevent others from doing business with them.