博客存档 - FordeFables

May 31st, 2017.

31/5/2017

Thought for today:
"Good morning everybody. It is almost 11.30 am and I have just got up from bed, having slept for three one-hour chunks since 10.00 pm yesterday, which is a great improvement.

I heard a lovely saying somewhere recently, 'There's a time to be born and a time to die, but nowhere else are we governed by a timetable.'

One of the aspects of having a serious medical condition is that though 'time' is the stuff from which life is made, learning to maximize the value from the time we have remaining is of crucial importance if we are to maintain our sanity.

With regular attendances at medical centres, doctors surgeries and hospitals for a few years now keeping appointments, one might think that one was governed by timetables and the clock, but one isn't.

Our time is like jam; the more you try to spread it, the thinner it gets. By making better use of the time we have 'waiting' when we are doing the things we have to do in life, we can derive more benefit. I am rarely part of a queue looking at the long line in front of me. Instead, at the forefront of my mind is a beautiful woodland area waiting to be walked.

Time is a gift that most of us take for granted. We get so caught up in the business of our daily lives that we rarely stop and take a serious look at how we're spending this gift. It is worthy of a few moments consideration." William Forde: May 31st, 2017.

May 22nd, 2017.

22/5/2017

Thought for today:
"It's hard waiting around for something you know may never happen, but it can be much harder waiting for something you know must! Mum Elizabeth is on the critical list and has no chance of recovery. She is not quite there yet but is closer to God than she was yesterday. God bless her and give her daughter, Sheila the strength to know that mum's next destination shall enable her to be pain free as she enters smiling, singing and with her mind and memory fully restored." William Forde: May 22nd, 2017.

May 18th, 2017

18/5/2017

Thought for today:
"When I think about it, being a daughter to an ageing mum in an old folk's home who she daily visits and a wife to a husband with a terminal illness who can no longer walk too far, besides holding down a regular job and being voluntarily involved with a number of organizations must be pretty daunting and time demanding. What I love best about my wife, Sheila, is her unselfish nature, her inborn compassion and her automatic response to place the needs of others above her own. without a word of complaint.

Yesterday, after making two return journeys to the hospital to see to my needs, she was then called out to the hospital again as mum had been admitted and needed a number of tests. It was midnight when she went to bed and seeing her tired, my only satisfaction was that she didn't have any children to check on and tuck in. Sheila never had any children, yet I know she would have made the best of mums; passing on to them the sound values she has always possessed. Whereas, I have been blessed with fatherhood and would go so far as to say that were I forced to chose between roles, I'd prefer to be a father over that of a husband. Don't get me wrong, I love the institution of marriage, but I know that I was born to be a father primarily!

Bringing up a child to be adventurous, confident and imaginative is difficult for any parent, but cannot be done without answering the many thousands of questions from their inquisitive minds. Their growth in learning and independence is achieved by providing them with the opportunity to make their own decisions. It takes tremendous strength and resolution to allow your child to suffer the consequences of their own decision but it is a vital part of the learning curve. Any parent should, however always make time to honestly answer their questions, whatever inconvenience it may cause at the time.

Life is of itself an unanswered question, but let's still believe in the importance of the question and the dignity of the child asking it! Indeed, I'd go so far as to say that a prudent question asked by the child will represent half the wisdom attained that day.

Even the most mundane of particulars are capable of occupying the mind of a young child who is newly exploring the vast richness of the world they were born into. Even the depth of their innocent questions is capable of stumping most adults, embarrassing them greatly or putting them on the spot. It has often been said that only a child can ask questions that a wise man cannot answer.

When my son, William was only three years old and he saw a heavily pregnant woman, he asked, 'How will the baby in her tummy get out, Daddy?' Naturally, I gave him the traditional Yorkshire Pudding answer when I replied, 'The same way it got in there, son!'

Children are also experts at conciseness of expression, which I suspect is much more to do with their innate honesty than any particular mastery of the mother tongue. Most children inherently have difficulty resisting the doing of something, indeed anything which they have specifically been told 'not to do'. Hence the one thing you should never say to a child is, 'Under no circumstances, Jimmy, must you ever do that;' unless of course you actually want the child to do it.

When a child asks their parent too many 'Why' questions in the same minute to which the adult cannot provide a satisfactory explanation that the child would understand, often the weary adult will resort to the standard reply, 'Because I say so' or 'Because I say so and you've got to do what I say.

'Our William's favourite response whenever I used the term, 'Because You've got to' was one of sheer child simplicity. 'Got to not to, Dad. Got to not to!' he would invariably reply.

My daughter Becky was just as defiant and smart in her response whenever I used to threaten to leave her behind if she didn't get a move on. She would simply swing her feet in the air nonchalantly and say, 'You go if you must. See if I care!' " William Forde : May 18th, 2017.

May 17th, 2017.

17/5/2017

Thought for today:
"I have always greatly admired the sheer grit and sense of comradely and community spirit that existed in England throughout 'The Second World War,' years and wonder where it all went to since then.

At a significant time in world history, this small country stood alone against the threat posed by Adolf Hitler to rule and control every country in the whole of Europe. This small country was great enough then to conquer the European tyrant, and in my view it remains great enough despite its size, to do so again!

Even during 'The Blitz' when London got bombed to smithereens and was reduced to streets of rubble; even then, we held our heads high as a proud nation and battled on. The milk was still delivered on time, though there often be no door step remaining to put it on. Even houses reduced to rubble could not destroy the welcoming door step of every home. The bruised and battered door steps were lifted from beneath the rubble, washed down and whitened for use another day!

As a nation, we have voted to leave the European Union, so, whatever your prior view as to whether we should remain or leave, let's us please get behind our Prime Minister, get on with it and get the best deal possible! As a country, we must believe in ourselves once more and have greater faith in our abilities. Without a humble but reasonable confidence in our own powers we cannot be successful or happy. There is nothing of itself that is negative in pride as being proud can be be both good and bad. 'Good pride' represents our dignity and self-respect and 'bad pride' is the sin of superiority that reeks of conceit and arrogance." William Forde: May 17th, 2017.

May 16th, 2017

16/5/2017

Thought for today:
"When I was a boy growing up in the 1950's, like all children, there were things I liked, things I could stand, if need be, along with stuff that no self-respecting boy will ever tolerate from any adult who is purposely seeking to assert their seniority over a minor in their charge.

Just as bossy teachers can expect to find dead frogs, squashed caterpillars and slimy slugs inside their coat pockets when they go home at the end of the teaching day, clever clog parents can also expect to get their comeuppance!

I am not sure where my wicked sense of humour originated but was I to guess, I'd have to say that it probably came from my mother who would frequently have a laugh at my expense if she thought that I was getting too big for my own boots.

Although mum, who daily expressed her love for me and all her children, knew deep inside that her eldest son would go through his life carrying the cross of saint and sinner. She would often remark that despite my good intelligence because I was constantly playing jokes on others that I'd either finish up a fool or wise man, a thief or policeman.

'One way or another, Billy Forde', she would say, 'you'll be just as likely to finish up in trouble as often as out of it!'

In those days of no television, all boys played cowboys, and my mother would refer to me as 'Billy the Kid'. It was not unknown for her to pin a 'wanted notice' up on the door to remind me of something I must do, or under certain circumstances, refrain from doing (just as notices are often placed on the fridge door today to act as reminders)!

She called me 'Billy the Kid' because I was constantly 'wanted' by somebody in my youth for something I had done wrong; some wicked deed I'd been part of or had committed solo.

I never lost this sense of childish wickedness and in my older years when I became a children's author, I always found it helpful in getting inside the mind of the child reader simply by recalling the child within myself that I'd never abandoned.

I have always been aware that here is nothing better children like laughing at than silly adults slipping on the proverbial banana skin. Likewise, teenagers derive the greatest of smug satisfaction 'getting one over' on their elders who think they are their betters.

I grew up in a household with a strict father and when it came to a matter of dispute with any of his children there was but one rule; you were wrong and he was right! If you asked him why that was so, he'd simply reply, 'Because I'm the adult and you're my child.' While he'd discuss many things with you, he would rarely brook argument and never tolerate the practice of you giving him cheek, or easily withstand suspected criticism.

There is a bit of wickedness even within the best of us and nowhere better is this seen than when a teenager manages to 'tango' an adult and the adult doesn't even realise they've been had! It is tantamount to committing the perfect crime; the act whose commission isn't noticed by the victim and one which the perpetrator will never have to answer for.

I recall at the age of fourteen having an argument once with my father that turned into a heated dispute. When my dad eventually closed down the argument by essentially telling me he was right and I was wrong and that was an end to it, I left the room angry and was bent on revenge. There was simply no way that I intended to leave the matter there and forget about it!

I got a stiff piece of card and a soft pencil and went into the lavatory where I proceeded to carefully unroll about two foot of toilet paper in length. Then, placing the toilet paper on the stiff card to prevent piercing it, I lightly wrote on the reverse of each sheet the words, 'My dad is a fathead who knows nothing for his age.' I then rolled the toilet paper back onto the roll. This prank gave me a good few secret laughs when I saw dad go to the lavatory over the next day or so, knowing that he'd flush away my sin, like the Catholic priest in the confessional box, when he next pulled the chain!

On another occasion when he angered me I put a dead wasp in the middle of his sandwich that my mother had prepared for his snap box which he took to work down the pit. I knew that when lunchtime arrived he'd be so hungry that while he might open his sandwich to confirm that he had blackcurrant jam inside his bread, the darkness and thickness of the jam would disguise any content beneath its spread and he'd eat it without ever knowing the full extent of what I'd made him swallow!

A particular favourite of mine was to puncture his rigid practice of 'always being on time.' Being an exceedingly orderly and efficient man, he hated being late, especially when it involved entering the church as he always sat near the front and would be emotionally 'put out' if he entered the church after the priest had started Mass. Mass would commence at 10.00 am, and there being no buses on a Sunday morning in those days, it would take him half an hour precisely to briskly walk from our house on Windybank Estate to Cleckheaton, three miles in distance.

Being a relatively poor man with only one good pair of shoes which he wore as 'best' on Sundays, he would put on his polished footwear two minutes before leaving the house to avoid the risk of scuffing them if he put them on earlier. Whenever I could get away with it, I would sometimes hide one, delay his orderly progress and make him five minutes late attending Sunday Mass. I always assumed that he'd be faced with an insoluble predicament as he'd never take the short cut across the fields to get to church and arrive on time with dirty shoes; leaving him only with the certainty of arriving late and looking embarrassed as he quietly took his pew! Naturally, on such pleasurable occasions as these, I'd make sure that I set off before him, take the short cut across the fields and arrive at the church in time to watch him enter late as I smiled wryly from a rear seat.

None of these pranks, I might add, did I carry out on dad because he was a bad man or an unjust or over-strict parent, or because I didn't love him. I merely did them because he'd dared to cross me with impunity, like some sergeant major on the parade ground bearing down on some raw recruit as he shouted 'what for'. Nobody crosses Billy Forde and gets away with it. Nobody ever has or ever will!

If I was a parent with rebellious teenage offspring, I'd always make sure that I checked the first twenty sheets of the toilet roll before use; I'd hide my polished shoes and double check the contents of every sandwich I ate! Instead of seeking to take my rebellious child down a peg or two, far better to lift their spirits by telling them that you'll never be foolish enough to underestimate their creativity, ignore their ingenuity or doubt their sheer dogged determination!

During the 1990's I wrote a book that was suitable to be read by either teenagers or adults called, 'Butterworth's Brigade'. The book is about teenage rebels who are too unruly to be taught in a conventional school environment and have no respect for adults in general, so they are imprisoned inside a boot camp located in the heart of Arundel Forest until they change for the better. The leader of the rebels is called Axel, but was my mother alive today to read the story, she would know that it was her eldest son; me, playing the lead role!

Should you want to buy the book, it is available in E-Book format from www.smashwords.com or in paper/hardback copy from www.lulu.com or www.amazon.com with all book sale profits going to charitable causes in perpetuity (Over £200,000 profits from book sales given to charitable causes between 1990 and 2005)."William Forde: May 16th, 2017.

May 15th, 2017.

15/5/2017

Thought for today:
"We all have a secret past in some degree; things we did in our earlier life that we have not have yet emotionally resolved, may not wish to be reminded of, or for which we remain deeply ashamed or embarrassed. Such are facts that each growing relationship between a new couple must learn to deal with if they are to have a chance of long-term success and lasting happiness.

No one comes to a new relationship without a past and if your partner's drawer is neat and tidy when opened, leave it alone without seeking the need to rummage in all its corners. What you learn by unwilling contribution is often more likely to sour or destroy your happiness and relationship than what you aren't aware of.

Those things of the past which have been kept secret from you have usually been left undisclosed for good purpose. After all; take away a person's right to have a recess of their mind which only they have access to and you may as well take away their means of all peace and mental reconciliation, along with their potting shed at the bottom of the garden or their comfort derived from sharing secrets over coffee with their best friend who understands.

The more respectable a person is, the more certain they have their secrets. Remember, secrets have a way of making themselves felt just by their holding. Most secrets cannot be bound in eternal silence and have this capacity to find wings, especially where another person is concerned. Unfortunately, for three people to keep a secret, two must be dead!

The only exception to this rule is when a person (especially a child) has been physically violated by an adult and has been warned to keep their interaction secret. In such cases, the truth must out before any healing process can commence and it is more harmful the longer the secret is held. During my lifetime of work and contact with adults who were abused children and remained silent about their abuse and abuser into their adult years, never once have I seen healing take place and full health restored until they told their secret to a trusted other. It was as if they lived every one of their days facing death; thinking wrongly that their feelings were for themselves and nobody else to share.

Just like people with a terminal illness who face an earlier death, the abused secret holder cannot start to live until they have buried their emotionally traumatised past and have put it to rest. I learned a number of years ago after I discovered that I was fatally ill that I was happier each new day once I learned to take away its secrecy and freely talk about my illness. I discovered that we best learn how to die once we learn how to live the life we have every day we open our eyes and breathe into our lungs the dawn of love and the compassion of civilization.

So I beg all of you, please open your eyes to the power of love and the strength of sharing, along with gratitude for the dawning of a new day and the gift of life." William Forde : May 15th, 2017.So I beg all of you, please open your eyes to the power of love and the strength of sharing, along with gratitude for the dawning of a new day and the gift of life."

May 14th, 2017.

14/5/2017

Thought for today:
"A father carries his offspring until they are old enough to make their own way in the world, but a mother will never place any time span around the breadth of her affection or extent of her patience and will be prepared to carry her offspring until the day she dies.

No matter how far we travel in life, our mother is always with us. Just as we started off our life inside her, even when her body lies outside this world she will always live on within us. That is what makes her the gatekeeper of our inner strengths, our lighthouse of constant guidance and guardian of our souls. Even death itself cannot sever the umbilical cord that enjoined us at birth, through which mum continues to yield her genetic influence from beyond the grave. Even when mum is no longer here, she still remains in our shadow and lingers behind our every thought and breath as we see her stare straight back at us through the faces of our offspring. She makes her daily presence felt in their looks and peculiar ways, in their mannerisms and movements. She is always the first woman we loved in our lives, and along with our lifelong partners, is invariably the last!

For many a man, mum has helped pick our wives; having shaped our taste and fashioned our character without our knowledge, simply by being the mum we love. Often, we unconsciously retain that Oedipus Complex that Sigmund Freud highlighted in his lifetime's work. For instance, I have always dated shoulder-length black-haired women and would probably have turned down Marilyn Monroe without a second glance. Coincidentally, my beautiful mum had long black hair in her youth, way up until her late fifties when a few grey hairs started to gradually appear. Even many strict Irish Catholics from the land of my birth who could never give acknowledgement to the proposition of Sigmund Freud, have a propensity to place their 'Mammies' before their wives and to revere 'The Blessed Virgin' on the same level as Christ!

Without knowing it at the time, many a man measures his future wife to his mother's looks more than he realises, forming his present fancy and shaping his future dreams. It is not, therefore, surprising when his wife happens to have many of the physical features that his own mother once possessed in her youth when she first met his dad.

It also becomes less surprising when he says to his sweetheart, 'Are you sure we've not met before in some other life. We like the same things....and share the same values. It's uncanny....like destiny intended us to meet. You are so like me; so like the soul mate I've always hoped for.'

What he really means about his bride-to-be is, 'You are so like the mother I've always had, loved, worshipped and adored!'

Then, as our own children arrive on the scene, money and time alone with our wives becomes scarcer and tempers start to fray more easily. The once passionate nights we used to share over a pizza and a bottle of wine become gradually replaced by discussion of money shortage and the rationing of his or her activities while the financial belt is tightened. Bodies seem more tired after a hard day's work and parental patience start to wane when 11,00 pm comes around and the kids still aren't asleep. Add all of this to a decrease in intimate contact, allied to your marriage partner's increased nightly headaches, and you find the closeness you once shared nightly before your parental years of marriage has faded into distant memory, only to re-emerge at Christmas, holiday and birthday occasions, plus the occasional wedding attendance and night out on the town. All of the aforementioned sadly signals the arrival of the 'routine marriage stage'. Paradoxically, this is a much calmer time in married life when the couple now rows less often; largely because of their split duties, overall work commitments, waning energy and growing need for personal space and personal interests tend to keep them apart more than together.

This is the stage of marriage when the couple reassesses their relationship. The man starts to wonder what life would have been like had he married Jenny with her natural long black hair, instead of Julie, who had long black hair that was artificially coloured when they first met, and who, unknown to him, had been born a natural brunette! The man looks at his wife, who looked like his mother when they first met. As he looks anew at the woman he married and gradually notices her natural hair colour take root in her head once more, he sees that she no longer looks like his loving mum, but is now fast growing into the spitting image of his mother-in-law who never thought him good enough in the first place to marry 'her little girl'.

'Mummy....Mummy, where are you Mummy when I most need you? Your big boy wants a cuddle and a bit of sympathy. Nobody understands me like you do!' And the sad but simple truth for many a man, the bare fact, is that no one ever will!"
William Forde: May 14th, 2017.

May 13th, 2017.

13/5/2017

Thought for today:
"What is it that usually attracts young children to their grandparents in a way that mum or dad could never aspire to? That is of course until they become grandparents themselves!

Some think it to be no more than those little extra treats that fat-conscience mums and dads don't allow, whereas others hold the view that it something more special and child absorbing. I have always thought that they tend to give their grandchildren those little treats and allow them to break those parental rules that their own parents never did! Perhaps they understand each other so readily because, in their own experiences, they have shared the same enemy; the mother or father!

I recall being a child and loving being in the presence of my grandparents. Despite their craggy-lined faces (that I always believed concealed sixty years of accumulated dirt), I never once thought them to be too old. In fact, they had the capacity to live in my world, enjoy the same things and magic that I enjoyed and never run short of patience to explain whatever I asked or find the time to adequately explain it. Even when they gave me breakfast, they would sprinkle more sugar on my porridge than my mother ever would.

It is believed that grandparents are no more than a mother or father who has been given a second chance at parenthood, but I like to believe that old people live a second childhood. Thank God for that! Grandparents have much more than silver hair to offer their children's offspring; they have golden hearts and understand magic." William Forde: May 13th, 2017.

May 12th, 2017.

12/5/2017

Thought for today:
"Should you want to give your dreams the opportunity of coming true, you must keep them nourished in the water of hope and expectation. As Jane Lee Logan aptly reminds us, 'Don't forget to water your dreams today!'

I love this thought. It is simple yet so meaningful to all of our lives. So often it is too easy to nurture the weeds of the past than to grow the seed of tomorrow; so easy to allow the water spent to have currency in today's stream of consciousness.

In my life's experience, I have seen too many misspent emotions sap away the positive life energy of good people who may be experiencing some emotional instability. It is so sad a loss to become the empty vessel of past regrets and lifelong remorse. Far, far better to try to move on however hard such movement proves to be and to hear the sweet song of the birds once more at first light of each morning.

Nature is there to nurture the parts that materialism can never reach. Let nature touch you and bring you alive to all of the earth's possibilities. Allow yourself to bloom." William Forde: May 12th, 2017.

May 11th, 2017.

11/5/2017

Thought for today:
"Many Americans pride themselves as a nation of being the first and the best. Well, let me tell that isn't always so and that when it comes to providing an eyeful, whichever side of the Atlantic Ocean one finds themselves, the Blackpool visitor to the seaside often wins out!

I learned yesterday of the recent death of Pat Stewart, who became a 1950's iconic seaside image and the bedroom pin-up of every schoolboy with an ounce of testosterone going spare. All the boys over 10 years of age had a photo of 17-year-old Pat on their walls or a copy of 'The Picture Post Album' which had a picture of Pat in her spotty dress hidden beneath their mattress.

The image of Pat helped to make her world renown and to launch a show-business career. She later went on to work with Laurel and Hardy, Morecambe and Wise, Joan Collins and the comedian, Benny Hill. She also became one of 'The Tiller Girls' who danced at the 'Blackpool North Pier' in 1951.

Pat, who died a great grandmother expressed her wish to wear her famous polka-dot dress at her funeral. On that day in question, as cameraman Bert Hardy clicked, a sea breeze lifted Pat's skirt, allowing the saucy seaside snap to become an iconic image worldwide. It is reported that the editor of the Picture Post magazine initially banned the photograph for being 'too risque' and when it appeared two weeks later for public consumption (or should that be more aptly described as pubic attention), Pat's 'underwear' had been airbrushed out. Pat, who came from Featherstone in Yorkshire revealed just before she died that, 'It wasn't my knickers in the picture as I had a swimming costume on underneath the spotty dress.I was just young and enjoying life.'

Back to the Americans who like to come first and finest in whatever they do before us Brits. On this occasion, however, it would appear that the great and glamorous Marilyn Monroe thought to hijack Pat's moment of gushing innocence three years after Pat's spontaneous experience on the Blackpool seafront.

It just looks like 'Fings ain't what they used to be.'" William Forde: May 11th, 2017.

May 10th, 2017

10/5/2017

Thought for today:
"For all of you young men and women out there struggling to find a suitable job or a place to live in this tough economic climate, and to those in their 40's and early 50's who think that they've 'missed the bus' and so proceed in their lives at a walking pace, I say, 'Don't give up. It is never too late to be what you might have been.' We only live once, but if we keep trying to get it right, once is enough to succeed. Had the caterpillar given up, it would never have flown.

It is so easy for impatience to set in when progress is slow. The danger is to be diverted from our target and try too many things instead of continuing to concentrate upon the one we truly want. Like the postage stamp, it is far better to develop the ability to stick to one thing until we get there!

Others do not test themselves to the limit and never run far enough on their first wind ever to discover that they have a second. There have been so many who have unknowingly been so close to success and the realisation of their dream when they gave up. We have to sometimes learn to resist when others give in, to fight back when some might submit and to hang on when others give up. One's strength usually can be found in one's tenacity and clarity of purpose.

I remind you that it's never a moment too soon for you to do a u-turn and to put your dreams back on track. There is no failure in not getting what you want. Only in the 'not trying' does the bedrock of permanent regret reside.

During my lifetime I have seen many people enter the race. Many have not won first time but they refused to be an 'also ran.' The world's winners come only from its runners-in-the-race; the ones with the staying power. They emerge from its rank of dreamers and doers, triers and tasters, along with let's-give-it-another-go-ers!

So do not give up on your marriage, your struggles, your troublesome neighbours, friends or family members, your life or your God. Stay true to them and you shall most likely discover that they will remain faithful to you." William Forde. May 10th, 2017.

May 9th, 2017.

9/5/2017

Thought for today:
"I recollect that afternoon at the age of four when I found myself singing as I played out in the fields of Hightown, Liversedge. In those days, the only household entertainment enjoyed by every British family was the radio and the melodic strains of Vera Lynn, Alma Cogan, Ruby Murray and Bing Crosby etc. Singing and whistling were something that everyone did; some more than others.

In fact, come to think of it, I never once came across the path of a milkman, postman, bobby on the beat or working mate who didn't whistle while they worked until I'd reached my late teens. Even fearful people whistled to warn off the evil spirits and 'lookouts' for the police patrol! There was even a daily radio programme produced in December 1939, entitled 'Whistle while you work', which was described at the time as a BBC Home Service programme of gramophone records for early workers.

I remember the very first group that I was part of. It was called 'The Windybank Wailers' and was made up of Tony Walker, Peter Lockwood (now deceased), Geoffrey Munt and me; all residents of Windybank Estate. I recall the day that we decided who would take the role of lead singer. I won; not because I had the best voice, but the loudest. And besides, I was also the gang leader of Eighth Avenue and the corner of Third Avenue. Oh, and I was also the only group member without an instrument to play!

Over my youthful years, I found my natural singing voice and as I won one singing competition after another between the ages of ten years and twenty-one, there was a time when I genuinely felt that it was only a matter of time before some recording impresario would 'discover me' and reveal my talent to the pop world. This was the era of Elvis Presley, Cliff Richards, Tommy Steele and Marty Wilde; and there was, I believed, always room for me to find a slot beside these British greats.

I went to Canada for a couple of years in December 1963 and as I sailed across the choppiest of Atlantic Oceans on the 'S.S. Sylvania', I arrogantly believed myself to be the best singer ever to leave British shores. I naturally entered the ship's talent contest with every expectation of walking off with the $500 first prize. I found that to be announced the 'runner up' in the contest and awarded a prize of $100 to be no less a disappointment than to have been beaten by a seven-year-old cutie with a dimpled chin, who was the spitting image of a budding Shirley Temple with the sugary voice to match!

Being the best singer in Canada, naturally, my first job was as one of the singers in 'The Last Chance Saloon' in Montreal. Little did I realise at the time that such an establishment was one of the places a 'past it' singer ended their career days and didn't start them. I was the best singer of the five singers that the establishment had on offer during the first month I was there, and being English merely added to my nightly popularity with the ladies and curiosity with the chaps.

Within a short time, I'd forgotten about having lost out to the budding Shirley Temple on the 'S.S Sylvania' and took solace in discovering that I was the best singer in my present location; that was until a chap from Arkansaw, Wisconsin (whose name I made a point of quickly eradicating from my memory bank), sharply reminded me that I wasn't the best singer in the world! I quickly learned that as far as 'The Last Chance Saloon' was concerned, I'd never have top billing there again while the Wisconsin cowboy and his country and western voice outshone mine!

So I left 'The Last Chance Saloon' and apart from one weekend in a Scarborough pub some forty years later when my three sisters handed me a karaoke microphone and persuaded me to sing a Neil Diamond number, I have never sung outside the bathroom or my home since. But I was good when I was four; really I was, and even Shirley Temple would have been a runner up!" William Forde: May 9th, 2017.

May 8th, 2017

8/5/2017

Thought for today:
"Since I contracted cancer of the blood almost five years ago, much of my time has been devoted towards waiting for this test, this result, that treatment. The number of hours I have spent hanging around in some doctor's room or hospital department is virtually impossible to assess. Even when in my home surroundings, much of my time has been taken up by waiting for one moment of pain to pass and be supplanted by some other period of discomfort. And yet, I am blessed to be allowed to wait in the queue of the living for a sunnier day still to break through.

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 40's and 50's, 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 times and place when 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 to the City of Waterford, there would be one bus to take you there at 8.00 am and one to bring you back home at 6.00 pm. 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 jukebox 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 the world has become so preoccupied with 'getting there as fast as possible', 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 23 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 to do by mum at the time, but later discovered I'd waited too long for the wrong person.

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, I thought that I had missed the bus and was in no way waiting for another to come my way. As she passed by however, I found myself boarding this Keighley conveyance to eternal happiness and her kiss told me that all was worth waiting for, and this time, by God it was!" William Forde: May 8th, 2017.

May 7th, 2017

7/5/2017

Thought for today:
"There is an old saying that goes: 'Eat like a pig if you want to feel and look like a pig.' There is also a saying that espouses the belief that careful calorie intake count and good wholesome food plus ample exercise will ensure slimness of body.

While there may be some truth in both these sayings for the majority of people, unfortunately, it doesn't apply to every overweight person.

While I believe that there are so many people who overindulge in their calorie intake daily and find it virtually impossible not to eat that second pork pie or finish off that opened box of chocolates, my heart goes out to those unfortunates whom despite eating well and not overindulging, continually find themselves on the wrong side of the scales.

I have never been able to fathom out this Body Mass Index scoring chart which according to my weight I should be seven foot six inches tall! I know so many athletes and rugby players who would fail the BMI test. Whenever it is used on me I smile wryly.

When I was 11 years old, my height was 5 feet and five inches and like my brother Peter, I was on target for becoming a six-footer in adult life. Indeed, the part of my body above my waist line did, but unfortunately, the legs beneath the waist didn't!

I incurred a traffic accident which stopped me walking for three years, during which I had over fifty leg operations which stunted my growth below my waist. By the age of 14 years, I stood on my left leg 5 feet and 5 inches in height; the same as I had at the age of 11 years. My left leg had stopped growing from my waist downwards whereas my right leg had been temporarily stunted and grew three inches more. This left me with the stalled upper body half of a six-footer and the lower bottom half of a small man who had once stood tall. Put another way, had I done a 'Douglas Bader' and finished up with both my legs amputated, my natural height would then be over six feet tall once I'd been fitted with new legs to my choosing that matched my body proportions.

I am also aware of the various differences in hormones and fat cells between one person and another along with the different chemical imbalances that may exist. I know only too well how some folk can eat like a pig while continuing to look like a lettuce leaf, while others, however modestly they eat, they will always look overweight.

I am the eldest of seven children and all four brothers are following the precise body shape and weight path that my father took throughout his life while each of us has eaten and exercised markedly differently over the years. Whereas one brother became a sports teacher and used to race his teenage nephews around the track and beat them in their teens when he was in his fifties, another became an armchair potato couch energiser whose daily lifts involved getting a can of beer out of the fridge to drink while watching television. And yet by the stage that both of these brothers had reached sixty, there was little difference to speak of in body mass and middle age spread between them. By sixty, the sports teacher brother had become an educational psychologist who'd had one hip operation, was awaiting another if it arrived before a heart attack, and who looked like a sack of spuds ready to collapse at the first poke of his stomach, while the couch-potato brother still looked very much the can-carrying couch-potato.

I also know that most dieters who lose large amounts of weight invariably finish up putting it all back on, plus a few extra pounds as a 'weight watcher's punishment.' So the next time you are sunbathing and happen to find yourself in a position of favourable comparison with those sunbathers alongside you, it might be kinder to hold back that crude comment or scathing glance before throwing the first stone and thank God that genetics and not sheer willpower was the ultimate arbiter of your size. "William Forde: May 7th, 2017

May 6th, 2017

6/5/2017

Thought for today:
"It has been one year since I last wrote my last book (My 66th publication). Although I started writing another novel in March 2017, my body strength and mental concentration have been too poor to allow me to get beyond the first third yet. My current chemo treatment is at its most weakening stage and it saps all my energy. I am requiring blood and platelet transfusions more regularly in order to keep me going through the aggressive treatment.Today is one of my tired days but I was pleased to get a phone call from a brother with whom I haven't spoken for months.

I am also pleased that my Facebook friends pushed me into writing my next novel a year 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, being one of writing the flaming book! I am very pleased that 'Two Sisters' has been popular, especially as it gave me great pleasure to write it.

Being unwell for most of 2016/2017, 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 since that novel was published and ready for sale, it has been well received in my circle of friends. 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 can also be purchased from all reputable firms like www.amazon.com. 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 go 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.

For those who are lacking the finances to buy the novel, but would like to read it from their laptop, it is freely available from my website by following the link below: http://www.fordefables.co.uk/two-sisters.html

I hope that you enjoy the book as well as enjoying your day ahead." I am now having a relaxing weekend. William Forde: May 6th, 2017.

May 5th, 2017.

5/5/2017

Thought for today:
"Most of us will go through our lives never truly appreciating how much we have travelled on the backs of others or have been assisted in our journey before reaching our final destination. Our parents, family, teachers, employers, neighbours and friends have each, at some stage of our life, been there to help and support us when our need has been greatest and our awareness has often been wanting.

Some of the help we have received will have been 'up front' and we will, therefore, be aware of having received it. However, there will be far more support and help we have received 'in the background' and benefited from on our path of life that we may never know of. I speak of the good will, thoughts and prayers of others whom the benefactor may never know about.

For example, who helps you the most; the friend who gives or loans you some money when you badly need it, or the friend who hears someone speaking bad of you and defends you in your absence? The mother who chastises you and pulls you over the coals when you do wrong, but cuddles you when you do good, or the mother who believes you can do no wrong and defends your actions to all others whatever you do? Would you prefer a friend who is prepared to tell you the truth even if it hurts you to hear it, or one who pretends, praises and agrees with you, in order to spare your feelings and preserve your good will? Or could it be the stranger who smiles at you when you are depressed and reminds you that there are things in the world to smile about?What about the person who thinks highly of you and prayers for you during serious illness?

The travelling of life's road is never an easy journey and our passage is often made much easier by the good intentions and actions of others that we may never learn of. I recently received a message from a Facebook follower of my morning thoughts in the U.S.A. The lady told me that she has been a regular reader of my 'thought for today' for over four years and said, 'You don't know me, we have never communicated and I am not even 'befriended on your Facebook contacts, but through your words each morning, you have lifted my spirits and given me hope to carry on each day. Since you made your illness known to Facebook, I have greatly admired the way you have coped with it and there has never been a day since I first read your words when I haven't prayed for you. Thank you for your inspiration.'

No signature was attached to the message. I would like to take this opportunity to thank each and every one of you who have carried me through these past five years of my cancer treatment with your kind thoughts, support and most importantly, your prayers. Since 2013, I have been diagnosed with three different types of cancer and have received treatment for each. This most recent cancer I contracted and the chemotherapy treatment has been difficult to cope with, but whenever I feel a great deal of pain, I just think about all of your prayers and kind comments and this spiritual support keeps me going another day. A special thanks will always be reserved for my dear wife Sheila whose back has been the broadest support of all. I love you all and your daily concern humbles me. Bill x" William Forde: May 5th, 2017

May 3rd, 2017.

3/5/2017

Thought for today:
"There there, Tiddles. Mummy understands. Did the nasty Tom frighten you and ruin your little walk in the garden. Never mind, Tiddles, soon........soon your claws will grow long and sharp. No Tom will ever frighten you again after mummy has taught you how to attract them close enough to you to enable you to scratch their eyes out and to draw first blood.

When I was growing up in West Yorkshire on a new council estate, lads would fight each other frequently and the size of one's opponent was not always of primary concern. Yorkshire Code One said, 'In any fight, you have more chance of winning if you get in the first blow! There was none of this cowboy code of waiting for your opponent to draw his gun from the holster before you drew yours. I suspect that is why females rarely watched cowboy films when they were establishing their survival rules!'" William Forde: May 3rd, 2017.

May 2nd, 2017

2/5/2017

Thought for today:
"We all have a secret past to some degree; things we did in our earlier life that we may not wish to be reminded of or for which we remain deeply ashamed or embarrassed. It is worth reminding oneself that no one comes to a new relationship without a past and if your partner's drawer is neat and tidy when opened, leave it alone without seeking the need to rummage in all its corners. What you learn by unwilling contribution is often more likely to destroy your happiness and relationship than what you aren't aware of.

Things left unsaid or undisclosed are rarely done accidentally. Those things of the past which have been kept secret from you have usually been left undisclosed for good purpose. After all; take away a person's right to have a recess of their mind which only they have access to, and you may as well take away their means of all peace and mental reconciliation, along with their right to have coffee and a chat with a close friend or seek solace in their potting shed at the bottom of the garden.

After all, given the current absence of peace in the world today, a little cross-dressing isn't going to start 'World War Three', especially when there is much more in the bedroom of one's past to discover. " William Forde : May 2nd, 2017.

May 1st, 2017

1/5/2017

Thought for today:
"I am neither North, South, East or West but feel at home in all tepees. No boundaries exist in my breast; no cultural walls separate my mind from the thoughts that concern you and no hurt that ever touches you can leave me unmoved by your suffering. You are my earth neighbour and my heavenly companion and it is my fervent wish that we continue to walk side-by-side through this troubled world.

When asked, 'But who is my neighbour? Is it the person who lives in the house next door or the one three doors along; or the next street, the adjacent town, the bordering county or even across the sea in another country or on another continent? How will I know?

'I tell you, that if you can sense their happiness, sadness and pain as it is writ large across their face, if you can see their soul of muted expectation or feel the emotional burden gain some measure of the loss they carry, then call them neighbour, for they truly are!'" William Forde: May 1st, 2017.