FordeFables
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      • Rebecca's Revenge
      • Come Back Peter
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      • No Need to Look for Love
      • 'The Love Quartet' >
        • The Tannery Wager
        • 'Fini and Archie'
        • 'The Love Bridge'
        • 'Forgotten Love'
      • The Priest's Calling Card >
        • Chapter One - The Irish Custom
        • Chapter Two - Patrick Duffy's Family Background
        • Chapter Three - Patrick Duffy Junior's Vocation to Priesthood
        • Chapter Four - The first years of the priesthood
        • Chapter Five - Father Patrick Duffy in Seattle
        • Chapter Six - Father Patrick Duffy, Portlaw Priest
        • Chapter Seven - Patrick Duffy Priest Power
        • Chapter Eight - Patrick Duffy Groundless Gossip
        • Chapter Nine - Monsignor Duffy of Portlaw
        • Chapter Ten - The Portlaw Inheritance of Patrick Duffy
      • Bigger and Better >
        • Chapter One - The Portlaw Runt
        • Chapter Two - Tony Arrives in California
        • Chapter Three - Tony's Life in San Francisco
        • Chapter Four - Tony and Mary
        • Chapter Five - The Portlaw Secret
      • The Oldest Woman in the World >
        • Chapter One - The Early Life of Sean Thornton
        • Chapter Two - Reporter to Investigator
        • Chapter Three - Search for the Oldest Person Alive
        • Chapter Four - Sean Thornton marries Sheila
        • Chapter Five - Discoveries of Widow Friggs' Past
        • Chapter Six - Facts and Truth are Not Always the Same
      • Sean and Sarah >
        • Chapter 1 - 'Return of the Prodigal Son'
        • Chapter 2 - 'The early years of sweet innocence in Portlaw'
        • Chapter 3 - 'The Separation'
        • Chapter 4 - 'Separation and Betrayal'
        • Chapter 5 - 'Portlaw to Manchester'
        • Chapter 6 - 'Salford Choices'
        • Chapter 7 - 'Life inside Prison'
        • Chapter 8 - 'The Aylesbury Pilgrimage'
        • Chapter 9 - Sean's interest in stone masonary'
        • Chapter 10 - 'Sean's and Tony's Partnership'
        • Chapter 11 - 'Return of the Prodigal Son'
      • The Alternative Christmas Party >
        • Chapter One
        • Chapter Two
        • Chapter Three
        • Chapter Four
        • Chapter Five
        • Chapter Six
        • Chapter Seven
        • Chapter Eight
      • The Life of Liam Lafferty >
        • Chapter One: ' Liam Lafferty is born'
        • Chapter Two : 'The Baptism of Liam Lafferty'
        • Chapter Three: 'The early years of Liam Lafferty'
        • Chapter Four : Early Manhood
        • Chapter Five : Ned's Secret Past
        • Chapter Six : Courtship and Marriage
        • Chapter Seven : Liam and Trish marry
        • Chapter Eight : Farley meets Ned
        • Chapter Nine : 'Ned comes clean to Farley'
        • Chapter Ten : Tragedy hits the family
        • Chapter Eleven : The future is brighter
      • The life and times of Joe Walsh >
        • Chapter One : 'The marriage of Margaret Mawd and Thomas Walsh’
        • Chapter Two 'The birth of Joe Walsh'
        • Chapter Three 'Marriage breakup and betrayal'
        • Chapter Four: ' The Walsh family breakup'
        • Chapter Five : ' Liverpool Lodgings'
        • Chapter Six: ' Settled times are established and tested'
        • Chapter Seven : 'Haworth is heaven is a place on earth'
        • Chapter Eight: 'Coming out'
        • Chapter Nine: Portlaw revenge
        • Chapter Ten: ' The murder trial of Paddy Groggy'
        • Chapter Eleven: 'New beginnings'
      • The Woman Who Hated Christmas >
        • Chapter One: 'The Christmas Enigma'
        • Chapter Two: ' The Breakup of Beth's Family''
        • Chapter Three: From Teenager to Adulthood.'
        • Chapter Four: 'The Mills of West Yorkshire.'
        • Chapter Five: 'Harrison Garner Showdown.'
        • Chapter Six : 'The Christmas Dance'
        • Chapter Seven : 'The ballot for Shop Steward.'
        • Chapter Eight: ' Leaving the Mill'
        • Chapter Ten: ' Beth buries her Ghosts'
        • Chapter Eleven: Beth and Dermot start off married life in Galway.
        • Chapter Twelve: The Twin Tragedy of Christmas, 1992.'
        • Chapter Thirteen: 'The Christmas star returns'
        • Chapter Fourteen: ' Beth's future in Portlaw'
      • The Last Dance >
        • Chapter One - ‘Nancy Swales becomes the Widow Swales’
        • Chapter Two ‘The secret night life of Widow Swales’
        • Chapter Three ‘Meeting Richard again’
        • Chapter Four ‘Clancy’s Ballroom: March 1961’
        • Chapter Five ‘The All Ireland Dancing Rounds’
        • Chapter Six ‘James Mountford’
        • Chapter Seven ‘The All Ireland Ballroom Latin American Dance Final.’
        • Chapter Eight ‘The Final Arrives’
        • Chapter Nine: 'Beth in Manchester.'
      • 'Two Sisters' >
        • Chapter One
        • Chapter Two
        • Chapter Three
        • Chapter Four
        • Chapter Five
        • Chapter Six
        • Chapter Seven
        • Chapter Eight
        • Chapter Nine
        • Chapter Ten
        • Chapter Eleven
        • Chapter Twelve
        • Chapter Thirteen
        • Chapter Fourteen
        • Chapter Fifteen
        • Chapter Sixteen
        • Chapter Seventeen
      • Fourteen Days >
        • Chapter One
        • Chapter Two
        • Chapter Three
        • Chapter Four
        • Chapter Five
        • Chapter Six
        • Chapter Seven
        • Chapter Eight
        • Chapter Nine
        • Chapter Ten
        • Chapter Eleven
        • Chapter Twelve
        • Chapter Thirteen
        • Chapter Fourteen
      • ‘The Postman Always Knocks Twice’ >
        • Author's Foreword
        • Contents
        • Chapter One
        • Chapter Two
        • Chapter Three
        • Chapter Four
        • Chapter Five
        • Chapter Six
        • Chapter Seven
        • Chapter Eight
        • Chapter Nine
        • Chapter Ten
        • Chapter Eleven
        • Chapter Twelve
        • Chapter Thirteen
        • Chapter Fourteen
        • Chapter Fifteen
        • Chapter Sixteen
        • Chapter Seventeen
        • Chapter Eighteen
        • Chapter Nineteen
        • Chapter Twenty
        • Chapter Twenty-One
        • Chapter Twenty-Two
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May 31st, 2016.

31/5/2016

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stillThought for today:
"I have always had a fascination as to why some people live to be a hundred years old and beyond, whereas the vast majority of us will have shuffled off our mortal coil a good twenty years earlier. Some say it's to do with what you eat, others say where you happen to live and many more say it's all down to how you live. 


I once knew an old lady called Etta who became my mother substitute after my own mum had passed away. Etta lived to 94 years of life and never married. She put her longevity down to never having had the stress of marriage and motherhood; though this status is one she would have truly welcomed had her sweetheart not been killed during the Second World War. She also swore by keeping to her daily routine and never being out of bed after 10pm or still in it after 6am. 

Conversely. the late Earl of Harewood (7th Earl, George Lascelles), with whom I was friends during the last fifteen years of his life, along with his wife the Countess, read from my books to Yorkshire schools on three occasions. This cousin to the monarch once told me that most aristocrats live lengthy lives because they rarely rise before noon and live the life of Riley when they do. This explanation seemed to be diametrically opposed to the 'early to bed and early to rise' philosophy that Etta espoused.

So it seems that there is little consensus as to how best to ensure getting a birthday card from Queen Elizabeth, unless of course you happen to be her first cousin like the Earl of Harewood and get one anyway, whatever your age!

My own views on old age come from quotes, books I've read, people I've known and experiences I've had. In my seventy three years to date, I believe that none are so old as those who have outgrown their youth. One should never consider oneself too old to live life to the full or too old to jump in puddles for the sheer hell of it, or pull faces at life. You will start to see the signs of old age creeping up on you when you stop getting the urge to throw another snowball. As Bernard Shaw remarked, 'You don't stop laughing when you grow old; you grow old when you stop laughing.'

We all strive to be courageous, but we cannot develop courage by merely willing it. We develop courage by surviving difficult times and challenging adversity with a degree of positivity that dilutes its worse effects to manageable proportion. The beauty of the above woman in the photograph lies not in any facial mole, but is reflected in her soul. It is in the caring she gave her children, husband and family members throughout her life. It is in the passion of her simplest pleasures. Her face is richly marked with the lines of life which have naturally formed there by years of love and laughter, along with times of suffering and tears. It is beautiful! Her life is beautiful! She is beautiful!


For my part, ever since I was first informed three ago that I had a terminal illness, I have grown older more gracefully. And do you know the strangest thing of all? The longer I live, the more beautiful life becomes and the sweeter all creatures, nature and all new experiences seem to me. So as the poet Robert Browning exhorted, 'Grow old with me. The best is yet to be!'" William Forde: May 31st, 2016.

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May 29th, 2016.

29/5/2016

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Thought for today:
"Sheila and I have just returned from a week's holiday break on the Greek island of Crete. While unfortunately, the chest infection I have been fighting off for the past ten weeks worsened again and confined me to bed for two days of non-stop coughing, I treasured the five days that I was able to get out and enjoy the island and I  am eager to return at a future date, God willing. As I wanted and needed a complete break, I decided to cut myself off from my usual world and daily activities. For the first time in the past four years, I missed seven 'Thoughts for Today' on my Facebook post. I deliberately left my watch, phone and lap top at home, I refused to read a newspaper or watch television and for all I knew, David Cameron and Nigel Farage had agreed to form a coalition government.

Sheila and I spent a welcomed week in the beautiful village of Stylos, which is snugly nestled between mountains on three sides and the idyllic Cretan Sea coast line on the fourth side. This was our first visit to Crete and we leave with an unforgettable experience of 'another way of life' in which no one hurries.

I had only been in Crete less than a day before I realised that the greatness of Greece lies not in its glorious past, but in the maintenance of its peaceful presence. We were overlooked from the balcony of our rented compartment by high mountains and terraced terrains of olive trees, interspersed with lemon and orange groves, all dressed in an array of more shades of green than I ever knew existed. Just to let the watcher know that humans live on this magic island also, house roof tops can be caught peeping through their branches. The surrounding mountains stand proud in the clear skyline and they shelter and protect all within their embrace in a perfect green silence of ecological stillness.

Access to the mountains by car is often a perilous experience for foreign visitors who have not yet learned the Greek way of riding the middle of the narrow, unmade road. Instead of doing what any sane-minded motorist would consider natural to stay alive (particularly when no vehicle is coming in the opposite direction), the overcautious British driver prefers to place your life at risk by hugging a sheer drop of a thousand-feet at the passenger side of a Left-Hand-Drive vehicle they are wholly unacquainted with, just so not to contravene 'The Highway Code Handbook!' It didn't affect Sheila in the slightest, as she never saw the drop from her side of the car and in truth, if I was to ignore 'the fear factor', I'd have to say that even the Greeks would have admired her sheer bravery as she negotiated the mountain gorges and tried to show how the British driver observes central road lines by never crossing them; even if there is insufficient space for two cars to pass each other without at least one doing a 'Thelma and Louise' over the cliff edge!

​As for those marvellous mountains, they possess a beauty that runs riot in a feast of visual splendour which settles both soul and senses in a feeling of eternal belonging.

Unless we chose to visit the village of Stylos daily which was a mile from our apartment, and had we chosen instead to stay in the apartment, we would have heard no human sound between sunrise and sunset apart from cockerel crows, the bark of a dog, the bleating of goats and the constant song of the birds, who even chirp at a more leisurely pace than British birds. We found the sunny weather of May a thing to be enjoyed, not endured. The people were hospitable without exception and even when we got lost on our way home one night, the cafe owner we asked directions from gave me and Sheila a complimentary drink  while three customers discussed the best way back in their mother tongue. It was almost midnight and we were both ready for bed and facing the realistic prospects of sleeping in the car overnight while parked in the middle of an olive grove. Eventually, the Cafe owner's partner decided where we were staying after Sheila wisely showed him a photograph of the apartment and he kindly escorted us home.

As to the food on offer; magnifico! The sheer variety, taste and value was sufficient to satisfy the pallet of any gourmet and the purse strings of all. The sheer taste of their tomatoes and oranges were the best I ever experienced; even better than the Italian produce we tasted a number of years ago. A Greek salad (considered to be a starter or a side plate), costs a mere €5 and believe me , is a meal in itself.

Whether or not fate provides me we the opportunity to revisit this beautiful Greek island, I know that my mind will return to it many times during the period ahead. When next a troublesome thought seeks to sneak past my sentry of positivism to unsettle my inner sanctuary of peaceful equilibrium, I shall simply visualise Stylos and know that I am looking at somewhere very special on earth; a country which spins on its own access of peace and a people who believe in 'letting things be.' William Forde: May 29th, 2016.


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May 21st, 2016

22/5/2016

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Thought for today:

"If it was curiosity that killed the cat, I am sure that it was the one certain thing that coached the child in their learning of life. The future belongs to the curious. They are ones who are not afraid to try it, explore it, poke at it, question it and turn it upside down and inside out.

Every child born was designed to ask questions in order to satisfy their curiosity and add to their learning and well being. It is curiosity that sharpens the sense of the world's reality. It represents the art of the possible, a call from knowledge that beckons the unknown child to walk the road of learning. 


Curiosity is a sharpened sense of reality. It represents the art of the possible. Children who exercise their curiosity will not know boredom. Only the curious are rewarded with things to do and answers to find. Their curiosity lies in wait for every secret and is the parent of their attention, just as the absence of child curiosity is no less than a confession of their ignorance. Far better to kill a child at birth than stifle their curiosity and suffocate their imagination.

Every age of man has been provided with a keyhole at which to look through; a sight to satisfy our wanting to know. Even as an adult male, this curiosity never leaves us, but is instead directed to loftier and more adult things of the mind, particularly in hot blooded men when their eyes come to rest on a beautiful woman in a free flowing dress and wearing a smile that requires no explanation to understand its meaning. 
Nothing whets the appetite more than a passionate suspicion of what lies undiscovered." William Forde: May 21st, 2016.
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May 20th, 2016.

20/5/2016

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Thought for today:
"Be not in the slightest doubt that when it comes to downright craftiness and subtlety, woman is the master. The Spanish novelist, Carlos Ruiz Zafon was definitely on the ball when he once described the female heart as 'a labyrinth of subtleties.' 

Once engaged in their master craft, women are far too challenging for the uncouth mind of their male mate. If man really wants to possess woman (assuming such to be ever possible), he must first learn to think like her. He should first capture her mind before trying to win over her soul, for only then will he get to unwrap that sweet, soft bonus that lies beneath that scheming skin of sensual pleasure she calls virtue.

For thousands of years  women of the world have got the upper hand over their opposite number because 'sex and simplicity' became the outcome of their technical strategy. 'Simplicity' was their goal and not their starting point. Marilyn Monroe could play the dumb blonde better than most beauties and she always got her man. Unlike her fawning admirers who believed flattery was best applied with the heaviness of a trowel, all Marilyn had to do to blow their minds away was to innocently stand over a public air vent and to try to stop her dress lifting their spirits too high. Marilyn learned very early on in life that if you need something from someone, always give that person a way to hand it to you. She learned through her dealings with men who craved her body and not her mind, that acting always works best when it's hidden from the audience. I wonder how many more orgasms women have faked than genuine ones experienced in order to make their man feel better than he was! 

So the next time you think you are the head of your household, chaps, think again, only this time think with the brain above your waistline and not the brawn beneath. Women rule the world. They always have and always will and man is but a beast to their beauty and a hopeless cause to their charm." William Forde: May 20th, 2016.
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May 19th, 2016

19/5/2016

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Thought for today:
"We  do well to be at peace with the earth and our surroundings and we do better when we recognise our dependence on each other for birth and survival. Though we may think ourselves small in the grand scale of the planet, we are no less worthy than the stars that light up the sky; no less meaningful in the unfolding of life's grand opera. We are irrevocably linked to creation and cannot get through a single day without having an impact on the world around us or it on us, be it good or bad. Never be in any doubt that what we do or don't do makes a difference to ourselves and our world.

The beauty of the natural world lies in the details of man's nature and impact on it. Any ugliness in the world, man placed there to his undying shame. As mankind sought progress through the centuries, each stride of conquering superiority he strode, each seed of earthly destruction he sowed, he moved not one jot forward, but took a step backwards, away from Earth's Creator. Humans have spent centuries determined to conquer nature, but have finished up, almost beating it to death.

​One receives far more in every walk of nature than one can ever hope to understand. 
I only went out for a walk in the woods, and instead of finding myself going out, I learned that I was going in. Instead of walking forward, I found that I was going back into myself and finding my roots. It was on such a walk that I realised that the environment is where we share a mutual interest with all plants and living things. I try today to walk with nature and not over it; I try not to intrude on its sacred presence in our lives. I take nothing from its soil, but pictures, I leave nothing in its ground, but footsteps and I kill nothing, but time. The deeper I walk into the woods of my past, the more insight I gain about my present. Though I remain highly ashamed of man's action towards innocent creatures and forest life, I found myself unable to charge nature with any such wrong against us. Lets face it, you can't be suspicious of a tree because it stands there offering shade and shelter, or accuse a bird or a fish of subversion of the skies and streams; neither can you challenge the ideology of a primrose flowering in its natural splendour on a river bank.

My walks in nature have taught me that at some point, nature's beauty becomes enough. We need not half the things we have or have any need to eat our fill while others hunger. Money can never buy us happiness or the richest of lifestyles improve our health more than fresh air, exercise and enjoyment of nature can. During my walks through the woods, I am able to see pieces of heaven here on earth. I can see more clearly the inextricable joining of man to the land in which he was born and where finally his remains will rest. After my walk through the woods, my rambles over moors, my ambles down country lanes and my climbing over mountains, I see no material acquisition ever matching my natural pleasure again.

I often think that a child has far more wisdom than man in their innocent travels. I also believe that every child is a born 
a naturalist. Their eyes are, by nature, open to the glories of the stars, the beauty of the flowers, the mysteries of life and the unqualified acceptance of other children who hold no hostility to nature and others.

From Mother Earth we came, her environmental embryo, on the earth we live and to the earth we shall one day return." William Forde: May 19th, 2016
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May 18th, 2016.

18/5/2016

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Thought for today
"We are slowly advancing the pollution of our planet by the practice of deforestation, particularly the cutting down of the rain forest. The tropical rain forest is nature's natural medicine cabinet, without which the capacity to cure will be greatly diminished. Without the increase growth of trees throughout the world, mankind will drastically poison their own air and empty their medicine cabinets. So let us please return to planting trees instead of plundering our planet by cutting them down.

​Trees are a major source of energy on many levels. Physically they help people and the planet by providing oxygen and shade. They can provide shelter and habitats for animals. Some trees also give their fruit and wood to help ensure our survival. There is an energy in trees which many folk feel to be transferable and which can also affect our mental, emotional and spiritual state of being. Consider for example the peace and serenity people feel when they sit under a tree or walk through a forest. And what about the feelings of joy and excitement that children feel when climbing a tree to pick a conker or the magic of spending time in a treehouse? By coming into contact with a tree you will pick up these vibrations whether you are consciously aware of it or not. You begin to resonate with the tree’s energy and you become more centered and grounded. This can help explain the comfort many people feel when next to a tree. Maybe the hippies had the right idea when they advised people to go 'hug a tree.'

The physical characteristics that trees and humans share is scary. We stand upright, have a crown on top and mobile limbs stemming from a central trunk. The pattern of the tubular branches (bronchi) in our lungs is similar to the root system of many trees. Trees like humans are capable of providing security in the form of shelter, along with a sense of place that keeps us rooted to both nature and nurture. Mankind stands taller and becomes more grounded when he harnesses the combined power of nurture and nature.

Trees often assist our spiritual practice that we find essential and helps us to see all manner of life as being a celebration of creation and love. Aside from the Christmas tradition, trees have been involved in a number of religious and spiritual practices since time began. A tree played an important part during the first days of life for Adam and Eve and was also used to make a cross during the last day in the life of Jesus Christ on earth. Indeed, trees are much more entwined with the roots of mankind than we can ever imagine.

Many mythologies around the globe have stories of a 'world or cosmic' tree. The roots, trunk and branches of the tree represent the underworld, earth, and heavens respectively. Even biblical scriptures mention trees as in the 'tree of life' and the 'tree of knowledge of good and evil' in the book of Genesis. Buddhism has connections to the Bodhi tree where Buddha was known to have reached enlightenment as he sat and meditated. Druids and pagans were known to practice worship among sacred groves of trees. Trees have a long and rich history of sharing the spiritual path with humanity.

My first spiritual connection with a tree was during the third night of being hospitalised after having incurred a life threatening accident at the age of 11 years. For over two weeks, because of my extensive injuries, I remained in a hospital side room on my own where I floated in and out of consciousness, somewhere between this life and the next. I heard a doctor tell my parents that I would probably die during the second night of my hospitalisation. As I laid there in pain, I looked outside the room window and being high above ground, all I could see was the crown of an oak tree in full leaf standing there like a sentry of the night watching over me in my sick bed.


Over the next three weeks, my condition was so critical that I received the Last Sacraments seven times. When I did eventually emerge from danger of dying and knew I was alive, I looked out and wondered at the sight of the oak tree, the night sentry that stood alone, 'but lived' outside, in the grounds of Batley Hospital. I was glad to be alive and a large part of me wondered if the tree outside had transferred some of its own life force to myself?

So my message to all is simply, 'Save a tree and know that you save a life!' William Forde: May 18th, 2016.

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May 17th, 2016

17/5/2016

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Thought for today:
"Nobody ever got ahead by sitting on their behinds and dreaming about crickets playing football or frogs floating in sago pudding. Everything we do in life has been done before; all we plan to do today was once the dream of others. My mum tells me that I'm a good girl who deserves to dream her dream. My trouble is that I never believe that I truly belong anywhere, except when I'm laying on my bed, pretending to be somewhere else.

Bother! Bother! Bother and double bother! I'm bored waiting for a little brother to come along and boss. You lot can do what you want to. I'm going to eat a big fat cream bun and become an oversized model!" William Forde: May 17th, 2016
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May 16th, 2016

16/5/2016

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 Thought for today:
"The one thing about letting yourself get so low, is that there is only way you can then go; back up again! As with many addictions and adverse conditions, I believe that one often has to reach rock bottom before the determination to quit one's old lifestyle can exist in strong enough measure to bring about the required change.

Be you a repeat offender, an alcoholic, an obese individual, a drug addict or whatever, it is as though you have to risk the forfeiture of your life, your freedom, your marriage, your health, your home, your family, your job, your happiness, along with all hope and self respect before you are prepared to change.

When we can no longer change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves and the behaviours which support our affliction. Sadly, it is part of the human condition, but often our lives have to come crashing down around us before we are forced to accept that something is drastically wrong and that we need to consider big changes in it.

When we resist a change in the direction our lives demand and continue to muscle through hardships, we become exhausted with the constant need to swim upstream. Change often requires nothing less than turning ourself around and allowing our body to go with the flow. It is only when we have nothing left to lose that we surrender to the current; only then can we see we have nothing to gain by swimming against the tide of common sense. When everything is no longer sure in our lives, only then can anything seem possible.

Changing one's life around is never easy, it requires a great deal of consistency and hard work. People who have succeeded in this often feel that it is better to start again, because stripping things bare can create new possibilities. Too many of us hold on to old wounds as a testament to what we suffered and though we still see the scars, we should make them something we observe instead of something we still feel at the core. Only when things feels right can we be sure that they are right for us.

Accept that just because we reach rock bottom during any stage of our life, does not mean we are destined to stay there. To climb out of the hole we dug for ourselves, we need to observe past mistakes and learn from them. Only then are we able to make rock bottom the solid foundation on which to rebuild our life." William Forde: May 16th, 2016.


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May 15th, 2016.

15/5/2016

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Thought for today:
“Mean words can mean so much to those against whom they are spat. They may only take seconds to voice, but a lifetime to internalise. I have known numerous adults still affected by the verbal taunts and bullying they received as a child at school, twenty and even thirty years after they’ve been callously thrown at the victim. They pierce the body like a wrapping of barbwire and replay in the mind of the plagued adult like a stuck gramophone needle that stubbornly refuses to move on, spiking a sense of remembered pain.

During my life as a Probation Officer, I was to meet so many adults (mostly female, but not exclusively so), who still bore the pain of name calling they endured at school as a child or teenager. It is not unusual today to hear about the tragic death of some young girl or boy who found it easier to take their own life then have to face the verbal abuse of their peers a moment longer.

Unfortunately there will always be someone willing to hurt you, put you down, gossip about you, belittle your accomplishments and judge you. It is a fact that we all must face, but none of this makes it acceptable or easier for the person in the firing line, especially if they keep quiet about the bullying that is taking place and tries to deal with it themselves.

When name calling isn't successfully dealt with or resolved in childhood, it can mushroom into insidious threats in adult life, especially for the female. Sometimes that bullied person will retreat into themselves and become one of life's pushovers, and sometimes they may over-react to prior experiences and go on to become a parent and bully their own child mercilessly!

While often it is the boys who set the trap for bullying, girls are often foolishly used to push the victim (usually other girls) into it in a collusion of the cruelest of peer pressure.

I will never forget reading a novel by Fannie Flagg in the late 80s called 'Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe' in which one of the characters feared how others would see her if she did not conform to what was expected of her, particularly the judgement of men:
 
'She had stayed a virgin so she wouldn't be called a tramp or a slut; had married so she wouldn't be called an old maid; faked orgasms so she wouldn't be called frigid; had children so she wouldn't be called barren; had not been a feminist because she didn't want to be called queer and a man hater; never nagged or raised her voice so she wouldn't be called a bitch. She had done all that and yet, still, this stranger had dragged her into the gutter with the names that men call women when they are angry.'

It seems to be an unfortunate fact, but name calling in one's childhood can stay with the victim throughout their life and keep them constantly responding to the expectations of others. Feeling unworthy as a child can also lead one in adulthood into abusive relationships!

In today's world of instant communication and the power of social media, ponographic pictures of pleasured moments between a girl and boyfriend can be maliciously posted on the phone for the world to see by a spurned partner and previously unblemished reputations ripped to shreds in public view of an unforgiving mob. All girls and young women out there, do not fall into this foolish trap of being photographed in compromising situations, however much you like the boy or believe he'll never show another.

There are far worse things to befall a person than physical violence which is more easier to address.  I would go so far as to say that it is far less cruel to deliberately break another's leg or arm than to call them a name that besmirches their character or casts doubt upon their good name. Broken bones mend with time, whereas name calling and character assassination can last a lifetime!" William Forde: May 15th, 2016.


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May 14th, 2016

14/5/2016

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Thought for today:
"No one has ever been loved as much as a first-born son is by their parents. His mother may claim that she loves all of her children the same, but sadly this cannot be so. She loves them all differently. Whereas the daughter of the family is born to be the apple of her father's eye, the first son belongs forever to the affection of his mother Only the first born is loved by both father and mother in equal measure. It is to him that dad will look to carry on the family name and mum will place all her future hopes and dreams. Or so my mother always led me to believe!

It is the youngest in the family who unfortunately will forever be in a state of 'catch up' and it is the middle child who is often destined to feel the most badly done to whenever parental praise and the excuses are being dished out. Of course, all proud parents will never see or admit to this being so in the structure of their family unit, but you only have to ask the eldest, middle and youngest of your offspring to learn that which many authors, researchers and professors of psychology have discovered over the past fifty years. Or so my teachers always led me to believe!

Here's the essence of what you need to know about birth-order types and how the eldest, middle and youngest children mix, match, mesh or clash. Whether you are designated a 'take-charge' first born or an 'attention-hungry' baby of the family or the compromising middle child who is the born peace maker, where you fall in your family's hierarchical order helps shape your personality and determines the significance of your relationship skills and roles thereafter.

Catherine Salmon, Phd, Professor of psychology at the University of Redlands in California says that first born children tend to be ambitious, conscientious, organised and more dominant in relationships. The first-born child likes to be in control. It has also been found that as with all family positions, gender plays a significant role too. In the case of all first-borns, whereas oldest sons tend to be 'take-charge' types and leaders, oldest females are more likely to be bossy, confident and aggressive than their younger sisters.


Years of research has shown that middle children are the least defined of the types. Whereas there can only be one eldest and one baby, the importance of middles shift, depending on how many others there are in the whole family. That said, middleborns are described as the 'Type 0 blood' as they go with anyone and as a general rule are the best compromisers; a valuable skill which was developed and honed as they negotiated between bossy older siblings and needier younger ones! Middleborn children are also believed to be more secretive and can often hold the view that they missed out during their development to that of both oldest and youngest siblings.


Last but not least, come the youngest of the family. Beloved, treasured, and in many cases babied for much longer than their older siblings (and often by their older siblings), the stereotypical youngest of the brood tends to be less responsible and more devil-may-care, with less of a hankering to take charge. All that however, can be different if the baby of the family came after a gap of more than a few years. In that case, the baby of the family may act more like an only child or an oldest sibling; as though the family had started all over again. Or so all my reading leads me to believe!


So, depending upon whether we prefer to believe in old wives tales, folklore, the word of mum, the crystal ball of an Irish peg-selling gypsy or in the decades of research performed by thousands of professors, anthropologists and psychologists from across the world (who quite frankly would be better getting a life for themselves instead of spending their own life analysing the lives of others), we take our pick when it comes to whose nose is best: or should I say, 'Who knows best!'" William Forde: May 14th, 2016.

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December 31st, 1969

13/5/2016

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May 13th, 2016

13/5/2016

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Thought for today:
"Heaven smiles down on those who smile on others. There has never been a more powerful truth that illustrates that heaven on earth is a choice we make; not a place we find. Let us make another person's day start positively by being the first person in it to give them a smile. Let us show them that Friday 13th can be the luckiest of days to smile on one's good fortune; of being alive on a day such as today.

We shall never know all the good a simple smile is capable of doing once we have given it to another; we shall never know how far it may travel in another's day. Perhaps the smile you gave some stranger at 8.80am is the the very same smile returned to you from another at 5.30pm?

I once heard of a young student who was about to commit suicide by throwing himself off the top of Tower Bridge into the Thames. He climbed up the iron sidings and just as he was about to jump, a young woman passed by. The young woman looked into his eyes and believing him to be in the process of performing some university stunt, she simply smiled broadly at him and cheerfully walked on. The young suicide leaper was so taken aback by someone daring to smile at him at the precise moment he intended to take his life, that her very act completely disarmed him long enough for another passer by to grab him  and persuade him back to safety.

Every person can, I suppose, occasionally makes themselves hard hearted to the pleas of another, but when a father is faced with the disarming smile of his little girl, he knows that what she wants from him, he must eventually give. I swear that looking at the smile on a child's face makes the child look younger and more appealing.Whenever my daughter Rebecca did something that angered me and demanded chastisement as a child, just as I was about to give her a mouthful she would smile. It was she who was responsible for teaching me that all peace begins easier with a smile.

My advice to every pessimist would be to warn them that every day they spend without wearing a smile is another day lost. As W.C.Fields once said, 'Start every day with a smile and get it over with.'

When I was young, my mother always said, 'Billy, things that make you smile should never be regretted and people who make you laugh, never forgotten. We are all born to smile. You'll find that life is sure worth while if you just smile.' Then she would burst into a Judy Garland song of the day." William Forde: May 13th, 2016.

​https://youtu.be/GAQfwpEDdOw​
https://youtu.be/5bZxamUU0x4​​
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May 12th, 2016.

12/5/2016

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Thought for today:
​
"Every child brings a bit of heaven into the world in which they live. When we are children, we cannot wait to grow up one moment longer than is absolutely necessary and to taste the fruit of adulthood. If only then we could possess the wisdom that stark reality brings to dawn; only then would we choose to stay forever young and innocent and not allow our apple to rot before its time and our expectations sour in bitter disappointment.

​Every time I see an innocent child happily at play, it makes me want to start my life all over again. Each time I gaze upon a child I see God's miracle in the making; the purpose of every parent's existence. I have always found that children possess an inherent wisdom which leads them to learn more from what we adults are than from what we tell them. Children are our most inner being, born anew. They enter this life through us and not for us. Adults often try to programme the child to learn the way they teach, but if for whatever reason the child has different learning needs (such as autism or dyslexia), and they don't learn this way, then the onus is upon the adult to teach the way they do learn.

Very few children become bored before they start to grow beyond the age of five. From 0-5 years, they are forever busy and are happy for no particular reason other than they feel so. My greatest pleasure of being a dad was to read to my children as often as possible, especially at bedtime. I knew that when I was reading them a book or telling them a story that I was in the process of awakening their imagination and stirring their curiosity to be read to the night after.

Indeed, my oldest child James was the very reason why I became a children's author. When he and his younger brother Adam were young, I read to them nightly without fail. James turned out to be too clever for his boots and always guessed the story's ending. So I abandoned their nightly read and instead, told them a bedtime story which I had made up earlier that evening. Smarty pants James still guessed the ending; only this time when he did so, I snookered him; I changed it! Those first made up stories were about a very clever fox called 'Sleezy' who needed a second chance and an angry dragon called 'Douglas' searching for revenge, but finding love instead. These characters were to be responsible for my earliest success in children's books as an author and over 100,000 copies of these two books were sold to Yorkshire schools between 1990 and 2000.

Anyone wanting to listen to the eight stories of 'Sleezy the Fox' and 'Douglas the Dragon' free of charge can hear professional recordings that were produced for radio transmission by accessing the link on my website. They are suitable for the 5-11 year old child to listen to and read. The stories are also available in e-book format from www. smashwords.com or in paperback copy from www.lulu.com and amazon. The late Princess Diana used to read these two story books to Princes William and Harry at their bedtimes when they were aged 7 and 9years. All profits from book sales goes to charity.

http://www.fordefables.co.uk/douglas-the-dragon.html
http://www.fordefables.co.uk/sleezy-the-fox.html

Nothing is capable of softening the hardest of hearts more than the unqualified love of a child, nothing is more capable of smashing the hardest of stone than their innocent smile that says nothing yet asks for everything. Strive to be like a child by all means, but never try to make them like you. Never encourage them to grow up before their time. Let them first explore their world, dream their dreams and find that crock of gold at the end of the rainbow.

Every now and then in life, I see some adult who forever acts the child and when I do, I know that he is still searching for that crock of gold that he was never allowed to find as a child." William Forde: May 12th, 2016.

​https://youtu.be/OROFfLYQ0b0
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May 11th, 2016

11/5/2016

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​Thought for today:
"There is a truth about the world which cannot be denied and that is while the youth today do not always respect their elders like they once did, the elders will always respect the young and seek to understand their needs and ways.

When I grew up in the 50s, all of the neighbours looked out for all of the children all of the time. In many ways, the older citizens behaved no less than communal grandparents. A child needs a grandparent, anybody's grandparent, to grow a little more securely into an unfamiliar world. Sadly today, simple acts of love and concern by a stranger of senior years to any child is just as likely to bring them allegations of being 'dirty old men' than to be seen in more generous light.



As people get older, it is only natural that they have a closer association with the younger child. Watch any grandparent with their son or daughter's offspring and see heaven here on earth. In fact I'd go so far as to say that the relationship between child and grandparent is probably the one relationship that is unaffected by time or guilt. Whenever I see a grandparent glow in the presence of their grandchild's joyful play which mum or dad are too tired to entertain, I know that I am witnessing the finest safety net a child could ever have.

A grandparent never runs out of patience, love and understanding. When I was young, I always found my grandma's knee the best place to sit when I was sad. It is perhaps one of my greatest regrets in life that I have never enjoyed a relationship with my only two grandchildren that most grandparents have. I know that this is a precious time I have been denied in my older years.

I rejoice however, whenever I see the untold happiness that such union between first and second youth brings as the age gap disappears along the continuum between birth and death. I have a good friend, whose life today is centred around the relationship she has with her granddaughter. Every minute spent in her grandchild's company is a little piece of heaven that sets her up for the week ahead in a way that no other tonic ever could.The relationship between them is so close that I feel sure if someone took it away that the grandma would give up the will to live because she saw no point in any longer doing so. My friend once told me that though she loved her children to bits, she found herself loving her granddaughter more. She was in a round-about-way telling me that she made a better granny than she did a mum!

Long may the older person and the child understand each other in ways no other can.
" William Forde: May 11th, 2016.
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December 31st, 1969

10/5/2016

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'The Kilkenny Cat Trilogy'

10/5/2016

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Thought for today:
"I am often asked as an author, which works I most relished writing, which story was my most popular, which was my personal favourite and which am I likely to be remembered for after my passing. My answer to the first question is 'whichever one I am currently writing'. The answer to the second question is the two books endorsed by the late Princess Diana and which she used to read to her 7-9 year old sons, Princes William and Harry at the time, 'Douglas the Dragon' and 'Sleezy the Fox.' These books sold in their tens of thousands. The book I most enjoyed writing was the one about redundant miners which was dedicated to my late father and which represents my favourite Christmas-Day story of all time, 'Tales from the Allotments.'

The book or rather trilogy of books I shall no doubt be remembered for when I am no longer alive and which deals with discrimination across the world is undoubtedly, 'The Kilkenny Cat Trilogy.' It was these works that brought me to the attention of the late Nelson Mandela who was to later phone me personally to describe three of my books which he'd read as being 'wonderful stories.'

The personal endorsement of Princess Diana and Nelson Mandela, along with 860 famous celebrities of national and international fame who read my books in Yorkshire schools between 1990 and 2002 ensured that I continued to receive as much ongoing press and media publicity that any author has a right to expect in one lifetime. I was introduced to collaborative work with the Jamaican Minister of Education and Culture in 2000 and worked in a unique trans-Atlantic pen-pal project to understand different cultures and to reduce racism and discrimination between back and white between thirty-two Jamaican schools in Falmouth and thirty-two schools in Yorkshire during 2000-2005.

The books which spearheaded this vital work was my 'Kilkenny Cat Trilogy' and because the stories represented my core beliefs upon discrimination and its evil, particularly when embracing racist views, I considered these three interlocking books to be a duty to write, along with a privilege, as i know that they touched the minds and hearts of tens of thousands of black and white people in Jamaica, Ireland and England and hopefully encouraged some to think twice about their expressed words and intended actions at future times.

Another burning reason for me writing and publishing these three novels involved my historic need of recording changing times in our history. There was a period during the 1990's when a clash of cultures between the people of Northern England, especially between black and white residents, threatened the very stability and tolerance that as a nation, Great Britain has always displayed.

These three books are available from www.lulu.com and www.amazon.co.uk in hard copy and from www.smashwords.com in e-book format. All profits from their sale will be given to charity. From all my sixty six published books, this trilogy represents seven years of writing and research to bring into production. When first published seventeen years ago, over two thousand copies were given to schools in the old slave capital of Falmouth, Jamaica and was placed on their school curriculem. For the following two years I liaised with the Mayor of Falmouth and all thirty two of their schools along with the Jamaican Minister for Youth Culture and Education in a trans-Atlantic pen pal project between thirty-two Jamacian and thirty-two Yorkshire schools. This project and trilogy was reported on 'News 24' after it had come to the attention of the late Nelson Mandela, who phoned me personally to praise my writing.



The stories are a must for all cat lovers and people who believe in the equality of all peoples and creatures in this world and the discrimination against none. This saga is suitable reading for anyone above between teenager and adult. The three stories are allogorical and deal with all manner of discrimination that can be found throughout the world today. The background to each story is Ireland, Jamacia and Northern England during the riots towards the end of the 20th Century respectively and while all three books are linked in the family of cats over the generations, they can be read independently if preferred. 


The story is told through the eyes of a travelling group of gypsy cats who encounter discrimination wherever they go; particulary in Ireland, Jamaica and Northern England during the riots towards the turn of the New Millennium. The lives and experiences of the cats mirror those of people in society today who happen to find themselves on the bottom rung of the ladder or who are in a minority that are discriminated against. This trilogy is thought provoking and being representative of the harsher side of life is often hard to stomach, as is life for many of today's citizens. I hope that you enjoy. William Forde. 10th May, 2016.
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May 10th, 2016.

10/5/2016

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Thought for today:
"In our youth, most of us Northern pensioners will have collected sea shells on the sands of the beach at Blackpool, Morcambe or Scarborough. Sadly however, the seaside resorts of our past seem to have had their heyday. Indeed, I was reading recently just how many city children of modern times have never seen a cow or made a sandcastle on the beach with a bucket and spade.


What will the modern-day child have to remember in their old age, I wonder? I find it hard to believe what text messages they ever sent or how many different jobs they never held down will be sufficient to fill their memory bank with experiences worthy of recall.


When all the water's been drained from the cooking pot of life and all we're left with in our old age is our collection of sweet moments, what will prove more meaningful in our rocking chair of recall; finding sea shells in the sands of our youth or texting friends from the privacy of our bedrooms?

During the 90s, my late friend, Catherine Cookson loved a character of mine called 'Action Annie' so much that she and her husband Tom, paid for my first publication of the book. Annie is a girl as good as any boy; a determined child who never gives up and after a number of mishaps, eventually manages to succeed. The 'Action Annie Omnibus' is for the 5-9year old reader and contains twelve seasonal stories including, 'Annie's Seaside Surprise.' The book was described by the late Ofsted Inspector of Schools, Chris Woodhead in the press as being of 'high quality literature.' There are also four Action Annie stories that can be freely heard on my website by following the link below, of which 'Annie's Seaside Surprise' is one. The stories were recorded for radio transmission by the television actress, Brigit Forsyth, who played the character of Thelma in 'The Likely Lads.'

'The Action Annie Omnibus' is available in e-book format from www.smashwords.com.uk or for all twelve stories in an Omnibus paperback from www.lulu.com or amazon. All book sale profits will be given to a charitable cause in perpetuity , along with the £200,000 given since 1989." William Forde: May 10th, 2016.

http://www.fordefables.co.uk/action-annie.html

http://www.lulu.com/shop/william-forde/action-annie/paperback/product-21858182.html


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May 9th, 2016

9/5/2016

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Thought for today:
"Let's swear here and now that whatever the future brings, whatever happens, that we will always stay the best of friends. Even if something unthinkable happens like falling in love with the same man, let's agree to dump him rather than to lose the affection of each other. If one of us wins the lottery, let's promise to share it. Now that we have sworn that neither man nor money will ever come between us, we should be setting off back home for afternoon tea before they start looking for us.

Just as a flower cannot blossom without shade or sun, I believe that neither man nor woman can fully grow without the influence and presence of a friend. The very best thing about a true friend is that they will never believe the worse and will love you anyway. Over the past year on Facebook, I have been blessed to have been reacquainted with many old friends from my past with whom the passage of life separated us. Being in my seventies now, I frequently think about those friends of old who have suffered great tragedy or who have died over the years.

The friends of my youth are the very people in my life who are best capable of keeping me young. We thought alike, we shared our secrets and concealed each other's shame. In many ways, the friends of my youth were the siblings that God forgot to give me. Most of them became blood brothers in any cause we fought. They cheered with me when we won and bled with me in the gang fights that we lost.   

However old I get, I will never forget dropping a brick on the head of a friend from the second floor of a new council house in the process of construction, as a group of us played cowboys and Indians. He was in hospital for three weeks, but never told. I cannot escape the memories of playing rodeo on the backs of cows down the fields of Green Lane or inserting darts into the end of arrows as we tried to better the other side in our battles to the death! Indeed, come to think of it, I never had a male friend who never became a hospital patient during our time together.

In our teens, friends could always be relied upon to share everything they had with you, with the one exception of course, girlfriends. In fact, going out with a friend's girl behind his back was the most capital of all offences, even if the girl proved a willing accomplice to the deceit. Though it has no doubt happened many times, I once recalled one young chap who took on the dumped girlfriend of another, only to find her pregnant in later months and marrying her in the great uncertainty of cross-over doubt. These were the days, where paternity could never be 100% established and the one who got caught holding the bairn when the musical chairs stopped was left to push the pram!

Another friend of mine stole from a shop behind the keeper's back and ran off. The shopkeeper gave chase and the thief passed his stolen goods to his friend in their dash for freedom. The boy holding the stolen goods stumbled and fell, only to be caught by the shopkeeper. He, being the one caught with the goods in his hands was the one to pay the price, very much like my other friend, forced to marry because of the sin of another!
​

I spent most of my years between boyhood and manhood living on Windybank. Though not wealthy in material terms, my friends were my estate and what I most valued. Being part of a boy gang who enjoyed the rough and tumble, our friendship was often tested when two boys walking home were set upon by a gang of four or five others. The estate code was harsh in the extreme. If one of the two ran away, leaving the other to face the consequences, he would be excommunicated from the gang forevermore. If he stayed and fought, his friendship and reputation would be reinforced and remain for life.

The most horrific memories I ever experienced was when one mate fell from the top of a fairground Big Wheel in Cleckheaton and landed on a girl. The girl died instantly and the youth from Windybank Estate was left badly crippled. Being unable to walk properly myself at the time, I sympathised with his plight. The crippled mate, now being unable to walk without the greatest of difficulty, started to ride a motorbike and often bragged about doing the ton (a hundred miles per hour). A friend of mine called Colin, who also was a motorbike rider, raced the other for a wager and both finished up being killed in the same accident on the road to Blackpool.


I have always thought that the friendships between girls as opposed to the friendships between boys, though similar in some ways, are  spattered with less aggression and potentially fatal consequences. This isn't some macho concept I have always carried, it just seemed to be a truth of the time and place in which I grew up.
" William Forde: May 9th, 2016.
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May 8th, 2016.

9/5/2016

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Thought for today:
"Whenever I see English folk queuing impatiently today as they wait for this or that, I muse upon how much life has changed. Gone is our ability as a nation to 'hang around' one minute longer than is necessary as we go about our busy lives, filled to the brim doing less meaningful things than we used to do. 


I think of my school days in the 40s and 50s, my earlier years on holiday in Ireland where I was born, my teenage years in West Yorkshire and holidaying in Jamaica during later life. These were the time and place where folk knew how to wait.


In the 30's, my reading of history told me that men would queue for hours and walked for miles seeking work for the day and think of it as nothing unusual to have done so. During the Second World War years, housewives would queue for hours with their ration stamps, often trying to secure the purchase of some vital food for the family's only meal of the day. I recall as a child in Ireland that if you wanted to travel ten miles from the village of Portlaw where I was born into the City of Waterford, there would be one bus to take you there at 8am and one to bring you back home at 6pm. Miss it either way and you walked.


As a teenager, it was common practice to hang around street corners for half a day or go into a cafe that had a juke box and sit and chat over one cup of coffee for the whole afternoon. In adult years, I saw the poor folk of Jamaica wait for a bus for half a day, not knowing if one would ever arrive and not getting angry or annoyed when one didn't.


As a country, we have most certainly lost the ability to be able to 'hang around' any longer than it takes to change our mind. As a world, we have become so preoccupied with 'getting there as fast as possible' that we are prepared to lose the experience of the journey in the process. Is it any wonder that so many of us consider life to be less meaningful today when progress is equated with 'speed' and regression with 'hanging around?Having been a stress management consultant for much of my adult life, I have to say that people who are prepared to wait and who live at a slower pace to life are far less stressed than those who are impatient and live in the fast lane.

When I first became engage to be married at the age of 22 years, though I'd been a bad boy where the ladies were concerned for many years prior, one was expected to be prepared to honour one's wife-to-be and wait and delay gratification until after the wedding. Even my mother often told me, 'Billy, the best things come to those who are prepared to wait.' I did as was 
advised at the time, but later discovered I'd waited too long for the wrong thing. I would have saved myself much heartache had I waited for another woman to marry instead!

​As I grew older, I became much wiser and was prepared to wait for the right one to come along. Now, when I first met Sheila, her kiss told me that all was worth waiting for, and this time, by God it was!" William Forde: May 8th, 2016.
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May 7th, 2016.

7/5/2016

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Thought for today:
"The poetry of the earth's landscape will never die for any naturist. I only have to look at the mountains planted firmly on solid ground to know that in all things of nature there is the presence of divine intervention.

It has always fascinated me why climbers should want to risk life and limb scaling the dizzy heights. For me, I was never one for heights and generally considered mountains for looking at, not climbing. There again, I must admit, it would depend on the nature of the view from the top once I got there which might prove to be the most persuasive factor!" William Forde: May 7th, 2016.
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May 6th, 2016

6/5/2016

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Thought for today:
"Today is another day in the hospital receiving my regular blood transfusion. I am feeling quite good today and looking forward to the coming weeks when Sheila and I will spend a week's holiday in Crete. Hopefully, the sun will shine down on us. I have never been to Greece, but look forward to the experience.

I am also pleased that my Facebook friends pushed me into writing my next novel a few months ago after I'd found a charming photograph of two old sisters (See photograph), and wrote a single paragraph while eating my boiled egg at the breakfast table. I wanted to demonstrate how an image, any image, can generate a stream of thought in the mind of a writer and produce a central idea which could then form the central theme of a book.

Following that little exercise, I was temporarily inundated with private messages to write the book which I said I could. This thought, having been placed in my head by your good selves, stayed there doggedly for several months; leaving my only escape from it, to one of writing the flaming book!

Being unwell for most of the past year, this book represents the only publication of mine during 2016.  Thank you, Facebook friends for your gentle prod. You spurred me on to write my latest published book entitled, 'Two Sisters,' another romantic story of mine, full of mystery that comes under the umbrella title in my 'Tales from Portlaw: Book Eleven' list of tales.

​I am pleased to say that novel is now published and ready for sale. I am very pleased with the final story which emerged from that photograph of two old women attached to my 'Thought for today' of January 15th, 2016.

For those of you who encouraged me to write it and who would like to read it, it can be purchased in e-book format from www.smashwords.com or in hard copy from www.lulu.com. It will be available from amazon at weekend. It is my 66th publication since 1990 and is Book Eleven, in my 'Tales from Portlaw' series of romantic stories. All profits from book sales goes to charitable causes in perpetuity, along with the £200,000 book profits given to charity from the sales of my books between 1989 and 2005.

I hope that you enjoy the book as well as enjoying your day ahead." William Forde: May 6th, 2016. 
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May 5th, 2016.

5/5/2016

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Thought for today:
"We talk about austerity today, but have little idea of what folks from the 40's, 50's and 60's considered 'normal' unless we were around or our parents lived through those times. Times have been turned on their head over the past sixty years. Today, good jam cannot be secured unless you make your own. The only alternative is to pay £3-£4 for a jar half filled with sugar.

In my youth, bread and jam wasn't an extra at the meal table; on most occasions in many working class homes, it was the meal! Along with jars of cheap paste spreads, the thinnest slices of spam and sacks of potatoes, such produce were often the staple food of many a working class family.

I recall my father who was a miner, often work through the hunger of his day when we had little food on the table. He worked all day in pit conditions that were bad enough to send any man to an early grave. In his snack box was a few slices of bread and jam sandwiches to last him between 7am and 4pm when his shift ended. He told us that between taking his sandwich from his lunch box and placing it in his mouth, the white bread enclosing the jam would turn from white to black before he had managed to take the first bite.
Then, when he arrived home for the meal of the day, my mum would give him a plate of potatoes and if lucky, half a head of cabbage. When pay day came around and my mother could afford a family treat for the weekend table, we would dine luxuriously on pigs' trotters, along with a plate of spuds of course!

Those were the days! And what kind of man and woman did such simple fare produce? I'll tell you; men of courage, women of wisdom, children of adventure and families of fortitude. In short, folk who made a difference!" William Forde: May 5th, 2016.


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May 4th, 2016.

4/5/2016

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 Thought for today:
"We must learn to dance in the rain if we want to dance to the strains of love at all. When the rain is done and the rainbow comes, sunshine will follow, bringing warmth back into your life, but only if you have allowed the rain to touch your soul. Anyone who says sunshine alone brings happiness has never walked in the wind, kissed in the snow or danced in the rain. Love knows no place where it cannot go, no season from which it does not spring and no heart that cannot be opened. Love is all that life needs to know; it is the answer to all our questions." William Forde: May 4th, 2016.
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3/5/2016

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May 3rd, 2016.

3/5/2016

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Thought for today:
"The loss of a loved one and friend can reduce the biggest man imaginable to tears. Whereas some big boys don't cry, real men do!

​I was never so strong as the day I discovered that binding friendship could not be broken and would never require of me the need to stand alone. I also discovered that only open expression of one's feelings can make any feeling, however hard to endure, bearable. That was the day, I learned the true power of ''friendship' as being the most necessary aspect of survival and the hardest to endure when it dies.

It takes a lot of courage to reveal one's vulnerabilities and insecurities to another as opposed to hide them, along with much more sense to relate to people and pets than to ignore them. There is more 'manhood' to be found in allowing oneself to both feel and genuinely express the loss of a lifelong friend than any amount of flexing brawn and bulging muscles can produce.

In my life, I have had a number of loving dogs die. However often we experience this situation, it is always hard to get through. When someone you love dies, and you're not expecting it, you don't lose them all at once; your grief loses them in pieces over a long time, Day after day, you recognise one more bit of the loss you are feeling. You miss not having that recognition the first thing every morning that another is glad to see you up and about. You miss that awareness that told you when you looked at your pet, that it loved you more than itself. Above all else, your days began much happier when you opened your eyes and saw your pet so glad to spend a new day with you.

For a while, immediately after their passing, you care not for the rest of the world and think you will never be quite as happy again. As the months after their death go by, gradually you find their smell vanish from your home and in their favourite corner of the room. A part of you tells you to clean no more, so that you don' lose that precious smell. You notice with sadness every morning and evening when the hands on the clock reminds you that this was the time of day you used to walk your dog. You see its leash which still rests on the hook behind the door and which you are loathe to give up or even use around the neck of another. Gradually, you accumulate all the parts of them that are gone. It is as if only the pain of the process is deserving of such loss. You box their belongings, their ball, bone, leash, identity collar, and hide them away down the cellar. You think that all parts of them are now out of sight and therefore out of mind, but you couldn't be farther from the truth.

One day, some time later when you least expect it, you are emotionally taken off guard as you find one more thing to remember them by. You know that they are still alive in memory to your want of close companionship. You sense your need to stroke their affections one more time and touch the comforting feel of their cold nose as they nuzzle your face for attention.

As time passes, you realise the dependency you had on your dog's love as they had on yours, but deeper thought leads you to realise that their dependency was always greater than yours, their love ever deeper and always unconditional. It is then you realise that the greatest loss of all would have been to have died before them, leaving them alone in grief, unable to ever understand why the person who they loved more than themselves had left them!

If you should die before me, ask if you can bring a friend and meet again the ones you had." William Forde: May 3rd, 2016.
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