FordeFables
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    • Strictly for Adults Novels >
      • Rebecca's Revenge
      • Come Back Peter
    • Tales from Portlaw >
      • 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
  • Celebrity Contacts
    • Contacts with Celebrities >
      • Journey to the Stars
      • Number 46
      • Shining Stars
      • Sweet Serendipity
      • There's Nowt Stranger Than Folk
      • Caught Short
      • A Day with Hannah Hauxwell
    • More Contacts with Celebrities >
      • Judgement Day
      • The One That Got Away
      • Two Women of Substance
      • The Outcasts
      • Cars for Stars
      • Going That Extra Mile
      • Lady in Red
      • Television Presenters
  • Thoughts and Musings
    • Bereavement >
      • Time to clear the Fallen Leaves
      • Eulogy for Uncle Johnnie
    • Nature >
      • Why do birds sing
    • Bill's Personal Development >
      • What I'd like to be remembered for
      • Second Chances
      • Roots
      • Holidays of Old
      • Memorable Moments of Mine
      • Cleckheaton Consecration
      • Canadian Loves
      • Mum's Wisdom
      • 'Early life at my Grandparents'
      • Family Holidays
      • 'Mother /Child Bond'
      • Childhood Pain
      • The Death of Lady
      • 'Soldiering On'
      • 'Romantic Holidays'
      • 'On the roof'
      • Always wear clean shoes
      • 'Family Tree'
      • The importance of poise
      • 'Growing up with grandparents'
    • Love & Romance >
      • Dancing Partner
      • The Greatest
      • Arthur & Guinevere
      • Hands That Touch
    • Christian Thoughts, Acts and Words >
      • Reuben's Naming Ceremony
      • Love makes the World go round
      • Walks along the Mirfield canal
  • My Wedding
  • My Funeral
  • Audio Downloads
    • Audio Stories >
      • Douglas the Dragon
      • Sleezy the Fox
      • Maw
      • Midnight Fighter
      • Action Annie
      • Songs & Music >
        • Douglas the Dragon Play >
          • Our World
          • You On My Mind
        • The Ballad of Sleezy the Fox
        • Be My Life
    • 'Relaxation Rationale' >
      • Relax with Bill
    • The Role of a Step-Father
  • My Singing Videos
    • Christmas Songs & Carols
  • Bill's Blog
    • Song For Today
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  • Contact Me

Song For Today: 30th June 2020

30/6/2020

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I dedicate my song today to Kathleen Lennon who lives in County Waterford, Ireland, and Gail Musgrove who lives in Dulwich Village. Kathleen lives in the county where I was born in 1942 and Gail attended ‘Dewsbury and Batley Technical College’ as a pupil two years after I left the same college. Both Kathleen and Gail celebrate their birthday today. Have a super day, ladies, and thank you for being my Facebook friend.

My song today is ‘It’s Now or Never’. This song was made popular by the late Elvis Presley and was released as a single in 1960. The song is the best-selling single by Presley (20 million copies), and one of the ‘best-selling singles of all time’.

In 1960, ‘It's Now or Never’ was a number-one record in the U.S. for Elvis Presley, spending five weeks at Number 1 and the UK, where it spent eight weeks at the top in 1960, and an additional week at number one in 2005 as a re-issue. It was also a major hit in numerous other countries, selling in excess of 25 million copies worldwide, making it Elvis Presley's biggest international single ever. Its British release was delayed for some time because of rights issues, allowing the song to build up massive advance orders and to enter the ‘UK Singles Chart’ at Number 1, a rare occurrence at the time. ‘It's Now or Never’ peaked at Number 7 on the R&B charts.

‘It's Now or Never’ is one of two popular songs based on the Italian song of the Neapolitan language ‘O Sole Mio’; the other being ‘There’s No Tomorrow’ which was recorded by U.S. singer Tony Martin in 1949, and which inspired Presley's version while in the 1950s Presley was stationed in Germany with the US Army. The song has had its impact on many lives. Barry White credited this song as his inspiration for changing his life and becoming a singer following his release from prison.

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I was 18 years old when this record was released and was at the height of my ‘pulling power’ with the young women whom I courted in large numbers. I was a good-looking young man with good diction, high intelligence, and presentable features. I represented a ‘good catch’ for any young woman on the lookout for a decent husband and seeking a father of her children and provider of their family.

My best mate at the time was another Irish lad, Tony Walsh, (recently deceased) who was born in the next village to where I was born in Ireland I had been born in Portlaw and Tony came from Carrick-on-Suir; a mere short bike ride away. Tony came over to England to live in England during his teenage years, and we remained lifelong mates. Also being a good-looking chap like me, when we paired up together on the dance floor, we never went wanting for a partner for the evening. When we paired together in a gang fight, we rarely went wanting for a victory. When young women went dancing at Cleckheaton Town Hall, they usually took to the floor at the start of the evening dancing together. They would often refuse an invitation to split up and dance with a couple of young men approaching them unless both were satisfied that the two young men doing the asking were worth splitting up for. Having a handsome mate wanting to split a couple of good-looking female dancers up, held far more chance of success than one handsome and one ugly one making the initial approach.

Being the youngest shop steward in Great Britain at the age of 18 years, with the offer of taking up a trade union university scholarship at ‘Ruskin College’, I was acceptable to most prospective mothers-in-law as being a future son-in-law they could show off to their neighbours as a sign that their daughter had done well for herself in picking her husband to be.
However, if there was any picking to be done, I was determined that it would be done by me!

I was also popular with my peer group being a good bopper on the dance floor, a good drinking mate, a good singer who was always being invited to perform, and a good fighter who the gang could always rely upon never to back down in a fight. Whichever floor you stood me on, it provided a platform for me to show myself off as well as I could (with the exception of the bar-room floor, as I was never a big drinker who could stomach more than three or four pints maximum).

I had incurred a life-threatening traffic accident at the age of 11 years which left me unable to walk for three years. A few years later, I received a sizable amount of compensation that I could access when I attained the age of 21 years. From the age of 15 years of age, I had but one dream. My dream was to travel and live in Canada and America for a few years and become a professional singer. Remember, this was the early 1960s and all the most famous singers in the world were coming out of Liverpool, and I only lived a mere 50 miles away! I imagined that it would only be a matter of time before some astute talent scout spotted me as I waited to be discovered, and after a bit of studio promotion, I would be launched into international stardom and a life of fame and unimaginable wealth, with women galore fighting to get their hands on me (along with my newfound wealth no doubt).

The only thing that could stop me realising my long-held dream of travel, was if I found myself emotionally committed to a young woman who I had fallen in love with and had remained in love with. Hence, it was my prime aim between the ages of 18 and 21 years, never to accept the offer of any romantic young woman who was out to nab me as her own (unless I wanted what she was offering me of course, and providing it did not impede my travel plans one day longer than need be). Under no circumstance did I ever intend to accept any young woman’s offer who I was dating, to pop 'round for Sunday tea, and to meet her parents. Accepting such an invitation would prove to be the most expensive cucumber sandwiches ever digested as far as I was concerned!

I knew that my plans to travel abroad could only happen if I prepared and ensured it happened as soon as I was 21 years of age, and before my love of beautiful young women led me up the marriage path before I was ready to travel that road. As far as I was concerned ‘It was now or never’ or it would never happen.
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Love and Peace Bill xxx
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Song For Today: 29th June 2020

29/6/2020

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I dedicate my song today to Paula Walsh who lives in Carrick-on-Suir, County Tipperary, Ireland. Paula celebrates her birthday today. Have a smashing day, Paula and leave some room for lots of cake and a birthday tipple. Thank you for being my Facebook friend. Bill xxx

My song today is ‘I’ve Got A Rock and Roll Heart’. This was a single record by Eric Clapton from his album Money and Cigarettes’ which was released in 1983. The release was successful in the United States, peaking at Number 18 on the ‘Billboard Hot 100’, and it reached Number 6 on the ‘Adult Contemporary Chart’ the same year.
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When this record was first released, I had recently been divorced from my first wife a few years earlier and I was making my way as a pioneering worker within the Probation Service. I had already founded ‘Anger Management’ during the early 1970s (a method of working with aggressive people which would mushroom around the English-speaking world, and which countless people have since benefited from). I was also one of the country’s leading exponents in Relaxation Training and was introducing my relaxation training programmes into hostels, probation offices, hospitals, community halls, educational institutions, training courses with the police, firemen, psychiatric nurses, and training psychologists. There were also, psychiatric ward patients, Lifers in prisons, church congregations, a wide range of charitable organisations and the community in general. Life was overtaking me at a hectic pace.

I recall my teenage romantic years when I was to discover that being among the best of dancers always opened the doors of a young woman’s heart for me. Rock and Roll was the rage at the time and bopping was the dance craze. Despite that being over 60 years ago, I have always loved rock and roll, and you could say that I’ve always had a rock and roll heart. One of the things I most miss today is attending the Batley Rock & Roll Club weekly, where Sheila and I used to attend before my cancers and deteriorating leg mobility led us to stop. I may have been obliged to stop dancing to rock and roll, but I will never stop listening to it, never stop enjoying it, or stop singing it until I die.

Love and peace Bill xxx

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Song For Today: 28th June 2020

28/6/2020

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I dedicate my song today to Margaret Ann Long Long who lives in Carrick-on-Suir, County Tipperary, Ireland and Kath Honeybell who lives in Heckmondwike, West Yorkshire. Both Margaret and Kath celebrate their birthday today. Have a nice day, ladies and save some room for lots of cake and suitable refreshments. Thank you for being my Facebook friends.

My song today is “Jammin’”. This song was by the reggae band, ‘Bob Marley and the Wailers’ from their 1977 album ‘Exodus’. The song also appears on the compilation album ‘Legend’. The song was re-released 10 years later as a tribute to Bob Marley and was again a hit, as in the Netherlands, where it was classified in the charts for 4 weeks. In Jamaican patois the word jammin’ refers to a getting together or celebration. It is still receiving moderate airplay from adult alternative stations.

Bob Marley's wife Rita Marley has performed the song during the tribute concert ‘Marley Magic: Live in Central Park’. Marley's children, Ziggy Marley and the Melody Makers’ regularly perform the song during their concerts.

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I did not become fully acquainted with all of Bob Marley’s songs until after the New Millennium when between 2000-2003 I worked extensively with pairing 32 West Yorkshire schools with 32 Jamaican schools in the old slave capital of Falmouth. This was a trans-Atlantic pen-pal project which aimed to increase cultural awareness and reduce racial discrimination between the black and white pupils in the 64 schools. I also worked in liaison with the Jamaican Educational Minister for two years, and the Mayor of Trelawney who is known as the Custos, along with other Jamaican educational dignitaries.

I visited Jamaica twice during this work collaboration and even managed to visit the home where Bob Marley was raised, and which now assumes local museum status while maintaining its natural atmosphere of what it was like when Bob Marley lived there.

Bob Marley was essentially a Jamaican troubadour who reminded the Jamaicans of their historical background and agitated for a better Jamaica today. He was widely followed in Jamaica and became a powerful and influential advocator in his time for the improvement of the lives of poorer Jamaicans. Born Robert Nesta Marley in February 1945 in Nine Mile, in the Parish of Saint Ann, he was to become a pioneer of reggae. His contributions to music increased the visibility of Jamaican music worldwide and made him a global figure in popular culture for over a decade. Over the course of his career, Marley became known as a Rastafari icon, and he infused his music with a sense of spirituality. He is also considered a global symbol of culture, Jamaican music, and identity, and was controversial in his outspoken support for the legalization of marijuana, while he also advocated for Pan-Africanism ( the principle or advocacy of the political union of all the indigenous inhabitants of Africa).

Bob Marley began his professional musical career in 1963, after forming ‘Bob Marley and the Wailers’. The group released its debut studio album’ The Wailing Wailers’ in 1965, which contained the single ‘One Love One Heart’. The song was popular world-wide and established the group as a rising force in reggae.

The Wailers subsequently released eleven further studio albums; while initially employing louder instrumentation and singing, the group began engaging in rhythmic-based song construction in the late 1960s and early 1970s, which coincided with the singer's conversion to Rastafarianism. During this period Marley relocated to London, and the group typified their musical shift with the release of the album ‘The Best of The Wailers’ in1971. The group attained international success after the release of the albums ‘Catch a Fire’ and ‘Burnin’ in 1973, they forged a reputation as touring artists. Following the disbandment of the Wailers a year later, Marley went on to release his solo material under the band's name.

1977 proved to be a defining year for Bob Marley. During his time in London, he recorded the album, ‘Exodus’ (1977). The song incorporated elements of blues, soul and British rock and enjoyed widespread commercial and critical success. Also, in 1977, Marley was diagnosed with acral lentiginous melanoma; an illness he died of in 1981. His fans around the world expressed their grief, and he received a State Funeral in Jamaica.

The greatest hits album ‘Legend’ was released in 1984 and became the ‘best-selling reggae album of all time’. Marley also ranks as ‘one of the best-selling music artists of all time’, with estimated sales of more than 75 million records worldwide. He was posthumously honoured by Jamaica soon after his death with a designated ‘Order of Merit’ by his nation. In 1994, he was inducted into the ‘Rock and Roll Hall of Fame’. Rolling Stone ranked him Number 11 on its list of the ‘100 Greatest Artists of All Time’.

The last time I heard “Jammin’” being sung, the singer was my brother Peter who was performing a Karaoke in a Liversedge pub. He must have been in his 50s then and I was surprised as that was the very first time I’d ever heard him sing a song in his life.

​Love and peace Bill xxx
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Song For Today: 27th June 2020

27/6/2020

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I dedicate my song today to my brother Michael Forde, who lives in Gomersal, Cleckheaton, West Yorkshire, and Jasbir Gill who lives in Bali, Indonesia. My brother Michael and Jasbir celebrate their birthday today. I hope that your special day is nice for you both.

My song today is ‘Just Walking in The Rain’. This popular song was written in 1952 by Johnny Bragg and Robert Riley, two prisoners at ‘Tennessee State Prison’ in Nashville, after a comment made by Bragg as the pair crossed the courtyard while it was raining. Bragg allegedly said, "Here we are just walking in the rain, and wondering what the girls are doing." Riley suggested that this would make a good basis for a song, and within a few minutes, Bragg had composed two verses. However, because Bragg was unable to read and write, he asked Riley to write the lyrics down in exchange for being credited as one of the song's writers.

Bragg and his band, the ‘Prisonaires’ later recorded the song for ‘Sun Records’ and it became a hit on the US ‘Billboard R&B ‘chart in 1953. However, the best-known version of the song was recorded by Johnnie Ray in July 16, 1956. It reached Number 2 on the US ‘Billboard Hot 100’, and Number 1 on the ‘UK Singles Chart’ for seven weeks. It became a gold record. Johnnie Ray initially disliked the song but decided to record it. The record featured the backup male vocals of the ‘Ray Conniff Singers’ as well as a whistler.

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I was 10 years old when this song first came out and 14 years old when Johnnie Ray released his version of the song. I attended ‘St Patrick’s Roman Catholic School’ in Heckmondwike at the time. I had just resumed my schooling following a 30-month absence (due to a serious traffic accident at the age of 11 years, followed by a nine-month stay in Batley Hospital, followed by a few years of being unable to walk). Each morning after I alighted from the bus at Heckmondwike park, while my mates would carry on walking up to school, which was five minutes away, I would always call into the park toilets first where I would spend five minutes. My purpose was to sing the latest Johnnie Ray song in the toilet building. I was a good enough singer then to win most talent contests I ever entered. I would choose the park toilets to practise my singing of the latest hit song, as its tiled walls and floor created an echo chamber (just like a recording studio). The only other place I knew which produced the same echo was the Heckmondwike swimming baths, and that was too public to rehearse.

I also recall dating a young woman when I was 16 years old and serenading her as we walked home in the rain with this song. I even found a nearby lamp post and did my Gene Kelly lap-dancing pole twist as I sang. It was our first date. She loved the song, and when she said she also loved me after three dates, I considered it to be time to call a halt to our relationship as I was looking for fun in my relationships with young women; not emotional involvement. I loved the experience of ‘falling in love’, but was wary of the responsibilities of ‘being in love’. The last thing I wanted as a teenager was to settle down into marriage before I had done all my travelling abroad when I was 21 years old. Thirty seemed to me to be the ideal age before I was prepared to be invited back to their parent’s home for afternoon tea of salmon and cucumber sandwiches with any young woman I courted. So, I considered it wise to end our relationship before It became more serious and I started to love her too.
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Love and peace Bill xxx
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Song for Today: 26th June 2020

26/6/2020

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I dedicate my song today to Kathy Smith who lives in Wakefield, West Yorkshire. It is Kathy’s birthday today. Have a super day Kathy and leave some room for lots of cake and suitable refreshments. Thank you for being my Facebook friend. Bill x

My song today is ‘Knowing Me, Knowing You’. This song was a hit single recorded by Swedish pop group ABBA. The song was written by Benny Andersson, Bjorn Ulvaeus and Stig Anderson, with Anni-Frid Lyngstad singing the lead vocals. The song is featured on the group's album ‘Arrival’ and on the compilation ‘Gold: Greatest Hits’. Recorded in 1976 at the Metronome studio in Stockholm and was released as a single in February 1977, it became one of the group's more successful hits. Group member Benny Andersson named ‘Knowing Me, Knowing You’ as one of ABBA's best recordings in a 2004 interview, along with’ Dancing Queen’, The Winner Takes All’ and ‘When I Kissed The Teacher’.

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When I think about it, few of us ever ‘really get to know’ another individual, however well we think we do. We only ever get to see what the other person chooses to let us see and know. Indeed, it would become impossible, were one not allowed to have private and exclusive space inside one’s head for one’s own private thoughts. However honest we are or try to be, most of us will hold back something when it comes to disclosing all; when it involves relating each and every detail of one’s experience with another person, set of circumstances or event.

Take the closet of loving relationships for example. It matters not if is one’s parents, siblings, friends, spouse, lover, or girlfriend (or even a professional/work relationship), we usually tell people what we feel safest and most comfortable with. Take our most intimate relationships of all, with the opposite sex. None of us come to a new relationship without carrying some concealed baggage. No partner we eventually settle down with and marry will ever benefit from knowing everything about your past relationships. Knowing that you once loved another more than you do them, or that even someone you did not love was the best bed-partner you ever lay with, can never be conducive towards being completely reconciled in your present partner’s mind and actions

If I claim one success regarding my earlier romantic years when I did not want to settle down with the young woman who I courted, it was that we always ended our relationship as friends and that we remained friends thereafter. That, on its own, suggests the presence of a healthy degree of respect between the couple.
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Love and peace Bill xxx
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Song For Today: 25th June 2020

25/6/2020

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I dedicate my song today to Jerry McCarthy who lives in Carrick-on-Suir, County Tipperary, Ireland, and Philip Murray who lives in Orcutt, California. Jerry and Philip celebrate their birthdays today. Have a good day chaps and thank you both for being my Facebook friends.

My song today is ‘Let’s Stay Together’. This song was by American singer Al Green from his 1972 album of the same name. It was released as a single in 1971 and reached Number 1 on the ‘Billboard Hot 100’ chart. It remained on the chart for 16 weeks, and also topped ‘Billboard’s R&B’ chart for nine weeks. Billboard ranked it as the Number 11 song of 1972.
It was ranked the 60th ‘Greatest Song of All Time’ by Rolling Stone magazine on their list of the ‘500 Greatest Songs of All Time’ and has been covered by numerous other performers, most notably, Tina Turner.

It was selected by the ‘Library of Congress’ as a 2010 addition to the ‘National Recording Registry’, which selects recordings annually that are ‘culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant’. The song went on to claim the Number 1 position on the ‘Billboard Year-End’ chart as an R&B song for 1972.

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When this song was first released, I had just completed my Probation Officer training one year earlier and was serving my probationary first year at the ‘Huddersfield Probation Office’. Having postponed my earlier education as a teenager in order to get into work to earn some money at the age of 15 years (when I should have been studying for my GCE O-level qualifications), I progressed rapidly in the textile job market and was a mill foreman at the age of 24 years and a Mill Manager by the early age of 25 years.

A few years later, I was to give up my well-paid Mill Manager’s job to study for my university qualifications from Further Education courses during three years of evening classes three times weekly, whilst holding down an ordinary mill hand’s job during the day. My previous job as a Mill Manager had been on permanent night shifts, and as I needed to free up my evenings for study and night school attendance three times weekly, I downsized my job to make that possible to a manual textile job earning one-third of my Mill Manager’s former salary.

Once I had qualified as a Probation Officer, my thirst for knowledge was never quenched, as I overcompensated for earlier years of education that I’d missed out on. Over my 27 years’ service as a Probation Officer, there was never a single year when I did not attend at least two advanced courses in one working method or another. At the time (1971), I was a working-class man coming into a middle-class profession carrying a huge ‘educational chip on my shoulder’. I had this inner compulsion to make up for all of the years I considered I had lost in my educational studies, and I wanted to be as learned and as professional as any other Probation Officer whom I worked alongside.

I was extremely fortunate to have entered the Probation Service in its prime of life. We were highly resourced, and unlike today, we were not subject to the overburdened pressures of having too many people to work with, having insufficient office time to work with them, or being directed as to which methods of work were most appropriate to use in their circumstances. There was a freedom in the 1970s that Probation Officers today would neither believe ever existed and would most certainly die for, were they given the opportunity.

Then, every Probation Officer had their own office, instead of one office or partitioned open space shared by three or four officers today. Then, we had our own personal secretary as opposed to a few clerical typists shared by a dozen officers or more like today. Finally, we were given ample time and sufficient freedom to do our job using the working methods we best saw fit and appropriate to best serve the client to stop offending and improve their lifestyle.

In short, I had the best job in the world which only showed signs of irreversibly changing for the worse during the last five years before I retired early on grounds of ill health. My final five years as a Probation Officer witnessed a decline year-upon-year in overall resources allocated to Probation Officers, combined with a massive increase in cases to be responsible for. I refrain from using the term ‘supervise’ as opposed to the preferred choice ‘responsible for’ as today, the bulk of a Probation Officer’s task is to act as a Parole Officer who ticks off brief office attendance with their Parole licensees. Since I retired from the service, Probation Officers (like the rest of the workers in society) have been expected to do more and more on fewer and fewer resources, coupled with additional pressures of work which I never experienced. Indeed, the Probation Service was wrongly privatised for several years; a catastrophic decision that has only recently been reversed.

For my first ten years as a Probation Officer, the matrimonial courts ( in which Probation Officers doubled as ‘Matrimonial Court Officers’) would not grant a divorce, (even to consenting marriage partners) unless the divorcing couple first attended half a dozen hourly mediation sessions with a ‘Matrimonial Court Officer’. The purpose of these meetings was for the court to offer one last opportunity for divorcing couples to explore all possible avenues of mediation and reconciliation to be explored under the guidance of a worker trained in such matters. Having completed the prestigious Tavistock Programme as a Matrimonial Counsellor over a two-year period of weekly attendances each month, I found myself in this specialist role to my additional Probation Officer functions.

No person who decides to divorce arrives at their decision in doubtful mind, and most of the couples undergoing these compulsory mediation interviews at the behest of the divorce court were merely ‘going through the motions’ to satisfy the Judge that divorce was appropriate to grant. Having thought long and hard about divorce, few couples came to seek divorce lightly and only very rarely were the couples ever reconciled because of their mandatory mediation sessions, however expertise the matrimonial worker was.

However, on the few occasions when the marriage held possibilities of being salvaged, and when man and wife had separated too soon without seeking help and ended up giving it another go, there was a level of judicial rejoicing that was wholly disproportionate in respect of the overall amount of Government resources being allocated to the mediation process. For the matrimonial mediator, reconciling a married couple to give their marriage another chance to work out was the rarest of successful work experiences; like losing a shilling and finding a twenty-pound note!

One such couple who entered a course of mediation under my supervision before they pressed ahead with their intended divorce, remained ever so grateful that they had given their marriage another chance. They annually expressed their gratitude to me, and each year, on their wedding anniversary, they would either phone me to thank me or drop me a card, or a brief letter of gratitude off at the Probation Office. It was pleasing to know that their decision to ‘Let’s Stay Together’ was the correct one for them.

Love and peace Bill xxx
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Song For Today: 24th June 2020

24/6/2020

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I dedicate my song today to Coleen Milton who lives in Ramsgate, Kent, but is presently in lockdown up in Scotland. Her extended family miss dear old Ireland and the older members are now too old or too ill to holiday there again. She asks that I lighten their spirits by singing them an Irish song that reminds them of the Emerald Isle.

My song today is probably the most sung song in Ireland; the song that is never far from the singing mouths of all Irish men and women. It is the rarer old Celtic version of ‘Danny Boy’ which I sing today. I dedicate my song today to all the Regan family. Whenever a person who was born in Ireland goes to live in another part of this world, they always carry an image of their homeland close to their heart, and however many years they live in their new country of residence, whenever they talk about Ireland, they talk unashamedly about ‘home’.

My own parents migrated across the Irish Sea to West Yorkshire with their first three of seven children they would have (I was their oldest child). The year was 1946 and England was at war with Germany. Living in Portlaw, County Waterford, in the same village as my mother, myself and sisters Mary and Eileen, and grandparents, all my three Irish uncles, and two aunts was another Irish family called the Regans. Like most Catholic Irish families, the Regan family was a large family from Portlaw, County Waterford.

Coleen’s parents were called Patrick and Irene Regan. Coleen’s grandfather was called Patrick Regan also. Patrick Snr’s wife was called Ellen (Nee Maher). Grandfather Patrick Regan had eight siblings; brother Joe, brother Jimmy, brother Billy, brother John, brother Tom, brother Michael, brother Dennis and sister Peggy. He and his siblings Peggy, Michael, and Billy are now deceased, and Coleen’s Uncle Billy’s ashes finally went back home to be laid to rest in Portlaw (as will my ashes after my death). Grandfather Patrick and Grandmother Ellen are now deceased, God rest their souls.

Today’s song is a special dedication to Coleen Milton who lives in Ramsgate in Kent. Coleen (the original spelling of her Christian name is ‘Caillin’). Coleen was the only daughter to her parents, and she has three brothers, Patrick Jr, Paul and Matthew.

During the late 1950s, the Regan family uprooted and left Portlaw after making the heart-breaking decision to move across the Irish Sea to Ramsgate in Kent. Her father Patrick Regan and all her siblings (bar one) still live in Ramsgate, Kent with their large extended family, now covering three generations of Regans.

Coleen reports that the older members of her family are all in their late 70s and up to 89 now, and none of them can go back to Portlaw because of health conditions which she says is very sad in itself. They all constantly talk about Portlaw in their lovely Irish accents that have never disappeared, and even now Coleen’s dad tells her and his grandchildren, his adventures with his brothers when they lived on their Irish farm. Such stories gladden her heart. The Regans still have more distant relatives in Portlaw. Coleen knows Mary Forsey, and Kathleen Stone(Kathleen Stone is Coleen’s cousin). They are also related to the Fitzgeralds in Portlaw and are also related to Tom Clarke too. Kathleen Stone’s father was the brother to her grandfather, Patrick Regan.

After I became an author, Coleen (I have now had 64 books published), I decided ten years ago to put pen to paper and to write a number of Irish stories, using the germ of an idea that my mother’s Irish stories (told to me as a child) held. There are fourteen books under the umbrella category called ‘Tales From Portlaw’ which can be read FOR FREE on my website or can be purchased in e-book format or hard copy from www.amazon.com
 with all sale profits going to charitable causes in perpetuity (£200,000 given to charity from the sales profits of all my published books between 1990-2000). Just follow the link below to access: http://www.fordefables.co.uk/tales-from-portlaw.html

Love and peace Bill xxx
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THE FUNERAL OF MY BEST MATE, TONY WALSH TODAY: 23/06/20

23/6/2020

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In the beginning, there was you and there was me, but once we met, there was only us. We were so close in our friendship for over sixty years that even our shadows could not be separated. In our teenage years where you went, so did I, and where I walked, you walked alongside me, blood brothers to the end.

This morning, your wife Lily, your family, and your friends said goodbye to you, dear friend, but that was never our way. There is no goodbye between best friends when they part; only ‘see you soon’.

Like the rainbow in the sky above, the greater the storm that you pass through, the brighter it is when you come through it. Like the best friends we were, we are, and always shall be, we may have faded in and out of each other’s lives over the past 60+ years, but we have never lost touch or loosened our bond of closeness, and we never will. Like, true blood brothers, our twin shadows merge into one body, and we will stay forever close.

Friendship is a mutual agreement to like, to understand and to share all things through good and bad, but being a ‘best friend’ is far, far more. It is a covenant between two soul mates, between two of a kind. Akin to a marriage between husband and wife, being a best friend is a bond which only God can break, and He never would, because like the colours of the rainbow, its brightness and presence in our lives represent the love of today and the promise of tomorrow.

Until we meet again, Tony, allow me to sing you my last song to travel alongside you until you reach the Gates of Heaven. It was recorded by your favourite singer, Elvis, and is sung today by your best friend, Billy Forde.

It will remind you of your wife, Lily, your children, your best friend and all those friends and neighbours who loved you dearly because you gave them your most precious gift of all; your love, your life and your heart. It is a song that embraces eternal love between one person and another. It encompasses ‘Today, tomorrow and forever’.
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Your best friend, Billy Forde
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Song For Today: 23rd June 2020

23/6/2020

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I dedicate my song today to my niece, Julie Knapton, who lives in Batley and my good Facebook friend, Deborah J. Deborah J Ives who lives in Leeds. Both West Yorkshire ladies, Julie and Deborah, celebrate their birthday today. Have a nice day Ladies and leave some room for lots of cake and a celebratory drink.

I also dedicate today’s song to Nathan Mitten who also celebrates his birthday today. Nathan lives in Carrick-on-Suir, County Tipperary. Have a nice birthday, Nathan.

Also, the life of my best friend Tony Walsh, who died a few days ago, will be celebrated when he is buried in Carrick-on-Suir this morning. I will put up a separate post for Tony this evening, but for this morning we celebrate the birthdays of Julie, Deborah, and Nathan.

My song today is ‘Little Children’. This song was written by J.Leslie McFarland and Mort Shuman. It was recorded by ‘Billy J. Kramer & the Dakotas’ and reached Number 1 iun the ‘UK Singles Chart’ in March 1964, and Number 7 in the ‘US Hot 100 Singles Chart’ later the same year.

The lyric concerns a man's entreaties to his girlfriend's young siblings not to reveal his courtship of their elder sister and to leave them alone, at some points, even bribing them with things like ‘candy and a quarter’ and ‘a movie’, on the condition that they ‘keep a secret’.

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When I was growing up during my romantic teenage years, all the things we got up to with our girlfriends (or should that be what we got down to?) were no different in essence than what young men and young women get up to today. The only difference today would be that whatever our girlfriend showed us in private would stay in our own minds alone and wouldn’t be stored in the memory bank of a mobile phone for private titillation at a later stage. Also, as mobile phones did not exist in the late 1950s and 1960s, there were no such things as ‘sex texting’ (sending sex messages to each other by mobile phones). Whatever secret message a young man and young woman communicated non-verbally was done by the written note or posted letter.

Once young teenage boys and girls start to physically develop, they soon advance beyond the exploratory stage of self-gratification and move towards the phase of forming emotional attachments. I never quite knew why teenagers feel things far more intensely than more mature adults, but I do know that unrequited love hurts all ages. Teenagers tend to fall in love more easily, and they also tend to fall harder. Consequently, should their romantic relationships break up, they hurt more than mature adults do. Their hearts are more fragile and are less able to withstand emotional disappointment and personal rejection. Young hearts break more easily and more often, as they are either living in raw despair or are floating on cloud nine.

In my courting days of the 1960s, there was little opportunity of courting indoors, unless it was done on the back row of the Picture House (that is the cinema for you young whippersnappers) where all manner of sexual exploration was concealed by pitch darkness, with the possible additional safeguard of a coat strategically positioned across the courting couple’s knees (in the event of the lights coming back on unexpectedly).

It was generally left to courting couples to find their own love nests somewhere outside. Locations of love often depended on the season of the year and the prevailing weather conditions. If it was a warm summer’s day, a couple’s first preference would be going a walk down the fields to examine nature close up. This might involve a closer examination of the soft ground in the long grass. During colder climate, young couples were often found sitting on a park bench or seen within a covered and isolated bus shelter, giving one’s breathless girlfriend a heart massage or rubbing Vic on her cold chest to make her feel warmer. One might sleepover at a friend’s house if your friend was of the same sex, but the only way an unengaged courting couple could stop in their parent’s house when mum and dad were out, would be if they asked their oldest daughter to babysit her younger siblings while the parents enjoyed much-needed time out together. Sometimes, a brave boyfriend would ‘call around’ ten minutes after her parents had gone out for a few hours, on the off chance his girlfriend would let him in.

In such circumstances where your girlfriend was supposed to supervise her younger siblings, or when they were proverbial pests and were requiring lots of attention, all that could be enjoyed between the courting couple was a snatched kiss when younger eyes weren’t watching, and were out of the room or engaged elsewhere. Of course, all boyfriends wanting more ‘time alone’ with their girlfriend in this situation would resort to the traditional bribe of sweets or the odd sixpence or shilling for younger children to play quietly in their bedroom for ten minutes.

As a rule though, when younger siblings were present, the courting couple would feel more frustrated than satisfied with having had their daily fix of teenage love put on hold.
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Love and peace Bill xxx
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Song For Today: 22nd June 2020

22/6/2020

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I dedicate my song today to Sheila’s nephew, Peter Daramy-Williams who lives in Leeds. It is my nephew-in law’s birthday today. Have a nice day, Peter. Love from Uncle Bill and Aunty Sheila xx.

My song today is ‘Look What You’ve Done’ which was recorded by the group Bread.

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A Facebook friend of mine recently used one of her late mother’s descriptions that accurately fitted my overall behaviour during my romantic late teenage years. She said, that her mother would have called me a ‘Jack the lad’. I would have to acknowledge that my friend’s mum would not have been far wrong in so describing me during my late teenage years.

I genuinely believed my behaviour at the time (in respect to the many young women I dated) was honest and above board, but with wiser reflection over the passing of the years, I would have to say today that I was living in a dream world. Though I always tried to do the right thing, just because I was 100 per cent honest in what I told them at the commencement of any courtship with me, it did not always turn out to be as uncomplicated for them as it was for me and what I had wished it to be. We are all different when it comes to understandings, agreements and contracts. Most of us do not read the small print and tend to go with the headline.

Allow me to explain. My greatest weakness as a teenager was that I 'fell in love' with every beautiful young woman I dated at the drop of a hat. The year was 1960 and I was an attractive and presentable catch for any young woman who wanted to meet and marry a respectable young man who would prove to be a faithful husband, a loving father to their children and a good family provider. Without sounding sexist, this was the prime ambition of most young women from working-class homes at that time; to be married to a decent man by the age of 21 years and to have had a couple of children before they were 25 years of age while they lived happily in their marital abode. It was also the general expectation of many young men whose horizons were often limited to joining the list of the newlyweds by the age of 21 years, or enlisting in the Army! From the Victorian era up to the 1960s, the vast majority of young men were born and died within a 10-mile radius and often had their Christening and funeral service conducted within the same parish church.

When I was 11 years old, I was the victim of a serious traffic accident which was to have a great impact on my life thereafter. Because of this bad accident, I was awarded a sizable sum of compensation which I would receive when I was 21 years old. I was also a good singer at the time and had even been presented with the opportunity to earn some good money on the Northern Working Men’s Club circuit at the age of twenty.

However, believing that I was the best ballad singer and crooner in the country at the time, I planned to do the two things I most wanted to do when I attained my age of majority, and in another country. First, I would emigrate to Canada, become a professional singer, and be instantly recognised as an international star in the making. Second, was my ambition to travel around Canada and parts of the United States. This dream had been my only dream since the age of 16 years, and my compensation money would act as a financial safety net and make it possible for me to pursue.

Between the ages of 18-21 years, although I felt invincible to all challenges that I faced, I did have an 'Achilles’ Heel'. I was at my most vulnerable where the beautiful young women I dated were concerned. Given the times I then lived in, it was extremely difficult for me to carry on falling in love at a frequency that made me a dead certainty to eventually come undone. I wanted regular female company and I needed frequent female physical contact. After all, I was an 18-year-old chap with too much testosterone to carry around in my 'sac' for three years longer without occasionally lightening my load.

The thing was, it was not just love making I needed. I needed to find the right young woman to 'fall in love' with, and to feel those emotions that only ‘falling in love’ bring. Strange though it may seem, but ‘falling in love’ was more important to me than ‘being in love’, as the former made me ‘feel good’ while the latter placed too many restrictions on my freedom and made me ‘feel responsible’. Looking back now, I can see that I was a female hunter who loved the chase more than the kill.

In fairness to myself, I never acted intentionally dishonesty with my dates at the start of a relationship or made it feel like a rejection when ending it, as I always remained on friendly terms with my ex’s.

The answer that I found to my romantic dilemma was to be able to ‘fall in love’ with lots of different young women without any possible marriage expectations or emotional involvement being a part of our understanding. ‘So, whilst ‘falling in love’ was fine, ‘being in love’ threw a spanner in the works of my long term plans to remain a bachelor until I was thirty and to travel and sing my way around Canada and America. I decided that if I changed my girlfriend every month, I would always have a dancing partner. So, I continued to experience the joy and benefits of ‘falling in love’ by paradoxically ‘falling out of love’ about one month into the relationship; thereby clearing the way for me to ‘fall in love again’ with whichever new girlfriend I was now dating.

I found that despite my honesty at the very start of any courtship, and declaring my clear intentions to remain a bachelor until I was thirty, it did not always work out to our mutual satisfaction. I was not always able to stop the young woman who I had been dating becoming emotionally involved with me. You see, while I had been happy to leave my physical tap open, but my emotional tap firmly closed, my date would not /could not always stop herself opening her emotional tap.

When I first heard today’s song that I sing, the very first few lines reminded me of what I’d been doing in my late teens in respect of my ‘courtship contracts’ and 'understandings' I thought I’d arrived at with my dates. Today's song says it all:

“You have taken the heart of me and left just a part of me,
Look! Look! Look what you’ve done!
You have taken the best of me
Now come get the rest of me
Look back, finish what you've begun."

And that summed up my behaviour in a nutshell; I started but never properly finished what I'd begun.
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Love and peace Bill xxx
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Song For Today: 21st June 2020

21/6/2020

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I dedicate my song today to my niece Kat Forde who lives in New Zealand, and my Facebook friend, Gerard Nolan, who lives in Carrick-on-Suir, County Tipperary. Enjoy your special day, Kathryn and Gerard.

Since my first book was published (63 books and thirty years ago), anything that ever happened to me as an author has been because a six-year-old niece called Kathryn asked me to visit her primary school in Cleckheaton to read from my first published book of stories for children, ‘Everyone and Everything’. Little did I realise at the time, how big an impact on my life that acceding to her request and keeping my little niece happy would have on my life thereafter. From that first school assembly storytelling session, over 800 famous people of national and international status (including royalty) agreed to read from my subsequent children’s books in Yorkshire schools.

Without my niece, Kathryn who has since grown into a beautiful woman and is known by the name of ‘Kat’, all the famous people whom I have met or have received literary praise from including Presidents, Prime Ministers and Princesses would not have happened. Any medals or awards I’ve received would not have happened. Any places I have had access to which I otherwise would not have seen, such as Buckingham Palace to receive an M.B.E. from Queen Elizabeth or ‘Number 10’ to have tea with the Prime Minister and his wife would not have happened. Any country I have visited in connection with my charitable work and anti-racist and discrimination projects such as Ireland and Jamaica would not have happened, and many charitable causes would have been £200,000 the poorer as a result of not having received all my book sale profits since 1990. All this I owe to the birthday girl, Kat Forde, daughter of my brother Peter and his wife, Linda. Thank you, Kathryn. Uncle Billy xxxx

My song today is ‘Lonely Blue Boy’. This song was originally entitled, ‘Danny’ and was sung by Elvis Presley. It was written by Ben Weisman and Fred Wise and was performed by Conway Twitty. It reached Number 6 on the USA Pop Chart’ and Number 27 on the ‘USA R&B Chart’ in 1960. It was featured on his 1960 album ‘Lonely Boy Blue’. The song ranked Number 38 on ‘Billboard magazine’s ‘Top 100 Singles of 1960’.

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In terms of my own life experiences, depression is one condition I have never known or displayed. I know from my many years of work with people who are prone to depression (both mild and severe in intensity) that it is a condition that adversely affects one-quarter of the population each year. Well over half the population in the United Kingdom will sometime experience a mental health problem and conditions such as anxiety and depression increase in number annually.

For over twenty-five years as a Probation Officer, (running between three and six groups annually of up to thirty group members in each group) most of the thousands of group members I worked with on my courses suffered from high levels of tension and anxiety and approximately one-third of them (mostly female members) suffered from depression regularly and were addicted to medical drugs. That is one of the prime reasons why learning to relax accounted for half of each ninety-minute group session that course members received weekly over the six-month period of the course.

By simply observing comments on the social media today, it does not surprise me in the least to read how many people have become depressed and highly disheartened by having to incur a lockdown experience for the past three months during this Coronavirus Pandemic, and that even when/if society gets back to anything resembling normal functioning, the health service will see depression in school children, and young adults more than ever previously known; and not forgetting all those adults who live alone. I know that even my wife Sheila is on the borderline of getting the blues because of the uncertainty of the government and many of the restrictions on people’s liberty which get imposed today and are then disbanded tomorrow.

It is one of the most natural things in the world for anyone to feel blue occasionally and to be thoroughly fed up with life at the present. And ironically, it does not make the person feel any less blue and better to be surrounded by someone (like me) who understands the reasons behind mild depression and the correct responses to it, yet has never once been depressed in their life.

However much anyone like me understands depression, however expert one is an effective practitioner in helping people to stop being depressed, it cannot change the simple fact that my own experience of depression shall always remain ‘secondary’ to the person who actually experiences it. I can never understand its impact as much or in the same way as anyone else who has ever felt it.
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Love and peace Bill xxx

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Song for Today: 20th June 2020

20/6/2020

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I dedicate my song today to all people who have experienced racism in their lives, whatever the colour of their skin, their culture, their nationality, or their religion. I especially ask that a more equal society becomes the norm across the world for black and white citizens, men and women of all sexual affiliation and that discrimination becomes a thing of the past.

My song today is ‘Living for The City’. This was a 1973 single by Stevie Wonder from his ‘Innervisions’ album. It reached Number 8 on the ‘Billboard Hot 100’chart and Number 1 on the ‘R&B Chart’. Rolling Stone ranked the song Number 105 on their list of the ‘500 Greatest Songs of All Time’.

‘Living for the City’ was one of the first soul music songs to deal explicitly with systemic racism and to use every-day sounds of the street like traffic, voices and sirens which were combined with the music recorded in the studio. The song won two ‘Grammy Awards’: one at the 1974 Grammy Awards for ‘Best Rhythm & Blues Song’, and the second for ‘Best Male R&B Vocal Performance’ at the 1975 Grammy Awards for Ray Charles’ recording on his album ‘Renaissance’.

The song tells the story about being born into a poor family in Mississippi, where a young black man experiences discrimination in looking for work and eventually seeks to escape to New York City in hope of finding a better and more prosperous life. Through a series of background noises and spoken dialogue, the man reaches New York by bus but is then promptly framed for a crime, arrested, convicted, and sentenced to ten years in prison.

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This was a protest song by Stevie Wonder about the racism experienced by blacks, especially the poorer black citizens. I was a new Probation Officer at the time of this record release and my previous life had witnessed numerous incidents of institutional racism against black citizens and black immigrants ever since becoming a trade union shop steward in textiles. In 1960, not only was I the youngest trade union shop steward in Great Britain (appointed shop steward in the textile firm I worked at two weeks after my 18th birthday), I hit the national papers when I brought 300 plus men and women out on strike because the firm’s owner refused to hire a suitable candidate applying to fulfil an advertised job vacancy ‘on the grounds that he was a black West Indian’. This strike lasted a week and although the textile owner relented, the West Indian refused to accept the job because of all the previous publicity his cause had attracted. This was at a time when black workers could not join trade unions, black people could not join Working Men Clubs and other organisations. It was also the era when landlords would put notices in their windows announcing vacancies that also said, ‘No Blacks. No Irish. No Dogs!’

In the late 1970s, the ANC and AAM decided to promote Nelson Mandela’s reputation, presenting him as the symbol of the anti-apartheid struggle. This was the AMM campaign to ‘Free Nelson Mandela’. When I was aged 35 years, I took part in my first and only ever protest march in a ‘Free Nelson Mandel’ rally. The rally was organised by students from Bradford University. Nelson Mandela had been arrested and imprisoned in 1962 and was subsequently sentenced to life imprisonment for conspiring to overthrow the state. Nelson Mandela served 27 years in prison, a sentence which was split between ‘Robben Island’, ‘Pollsmoor Prison’, and ‘Victor Verster Prison’.

Nelson Mandela's closing words at his trial have been much quoted. They were reportedly spoken looking the judge full in the eyes. His statement that he was prepared to die for the cause was strongly advised against by his lawyers who feared it might itself provoke a death sentence. In a concession to their concerns, Mandela inserted the words "if it needs be". Nelson Mandela, speaking in the dock of the court on 20 April 1964, said:

“During my lifetime I have dedicated my life to this struggle of the African people. I have fought against white domination, and I have fought against black domination. I have cherished the ideal of a democratic and free society in which all persons will live together in harmony and with equal opportunities. It is an ideal for which I hope to live for and to see realised. But, my Lord, if it needs to be, it is an ideal for which I am prepared to die.”

From the day that his life sentence was imposed, segregation between black and white citizens in South Africa continued, and riots and armed resistance spread unabated. In the eyes of all black people around the world and white people who wanted to see a speedy end to all segregation in South Africa, Nelson Mandela became an article of faith. More and more streets were renamed after Mandela in Great Britain, the earliest being ‘Mandela Close’ in the north London suburb of Brent. Today, the UK has more streets named after Nelson Mandela than anywhere in the world outside South Africa.

'Freeing Mandela' had become perhaps the greatest cause célèbre of the era. While serving his life sentence, Nelson Mandela changed his previous philosophy from that of being a committed anti-apartheid revolutionary who was convinced that the black citizen’s vote would only come through armed struggle, to becoming a man of peace. He wanted political change and representative government to come about by peaceful means and he did everything possible to calm down the many riots which were mounting in frequency and intensity daily with the countless loss of lives. During his prison sentence, Mandela became close friends with his prison guard and a relationship of mutual respect developed. He was elected as the very first black South African President and served between 1994 to 1999. During the remainder of his life, Nelson Mandela became the most popular statesman in the world. He died on the 3rd of December, 2013, having succeeded in dismantling the legacy of apartheid. The world lost a great man.

In celebration of the New Millennium, I wrote eight books to be published on the 1st January 20OO, which were published and sold to Yorkshire schools in their tens of thousands, raising tens of thousands of pounds for charitable causes. One of these stories was a story about South Africa of old. The story was set centuries earlier in more uncivilised times, filled with warring tribes. The story could be compared to a relay race from the past, in which the first leader of the ‘Tembu Tribe’ (Nelson Mandela’s ancestor) holds the baton of Chief during his lifetime, and as each leader dies, the baton is passed on to the tribe’s next Chief, until eventually it is passed into the hands of Nelson Mandela, the leader of the ‘Tembu Tribe’.

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Many people have had some connection with a famous person, and I have been luckier than most people. Between 1990 and 2000, I had about four dozen books published and sold hundreds of thousands of copies to Yorkshire schools and, raised over £200,000 profit from their sales which was given to charity in its entirety. During this decade, I persuaded 840 famous names and celebrities to publicly visit a Yorkshire Junior School and read from one of my books to assemblies of school pupils. These celebrities came from every sphere of national and international life and have included Ministers of Government, one Prime Minister and two Prime-Minister’s wives, Archbishops, Film Stars, Acclaimed artists, Astronauts, Antarctic Explorers, World-leading Environmentalists, Television Presenters, Singers, Authors, Footballers, Royalty, etc.

Even the late Princess Diana contacted me when her children were aged 9 and 7 years and requested that I send her two of my books so that she could read them to Princes William and Harry at their bedtimes. She even agreed to visit a Yorkshire school and read for me, but before she could honour that commitment she was killed in that a traffic collision during the early hours of the 31st August 1997 in a Parisian road tunnel. About three months earlier, Princess Diana had phoned me at my home and all she said was, “I will read for you” before putting the phone down. It pleased me to know that two of my children ‘s books have been read by a future King of England and his brother.

I also had a phone call from the late Princess Margaret who assisted me in one of my charitable projects during the early 1990s, and five or six years later, Princess Royal, Princess Anne, accepted my invitation to open a Disability Centre in Dewsbury during the late 1990s which one of my storybooks was raising money for. I also met Queen Elizabeth 11 in 1995, when she pinned an MBE on me.
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But my proudest moment of all was in the year 2000, when the phone rang at my home in Mirfield, and it was the Home Office. The person at the other end of a three-way linking line said, “Is that Mr. Forde?” and when I said it was, the next voice to speak said, “Nelson Mandela here. Mr. Forde. I just wanted to say that I have read two of your books with the African and Jamaican stories, and I thought they were wonderful, especially the story about the birth of South Africa. Thank you.”

The book I refer to regarding the birth of South Africa is called ‘The Valley of The Two Tall Oaks’. That story can be found in my books, ‘One Love, One Heart’ or 'Two Worlds-One Heart', or ‘The African/Indian Trilogy’. All my books are available in hard copy from Amazon or in E-book format from www.smashwords.com or kindle. ‘The Valley of the Two Tall Oaks’ can be purchased in E-book format on its own if required. All book profits are given to charitable causes in perpetuity.

Ever since a West Indian surgeon saved my life on the operating table of the old Batley Hospital in late 1954, I have promoted anti-racism in every aspect I have come across and I have helped underprivileged black children in their schools, both in West Yorkshire and in Falmouth, Jamaica also. Between 2000 and 2003,

I worked in conjunction with the Minister of Education and Youth Culture in Jamaica (ironically called Mr. White) and the Mayor of Falmouth (the old Jamaican slave capital), and 32 Falmouth schools who were paired with 32 West Yorkshire schools in a trans-Atlantic pen-pal project. The objective was to acquaint all the black and white pupils with each other’s culture and to hopefully reduce racism between black and white. In addition, I wrote four books for the Jamaican schools, and thousands of copies were shipped across to Falmouth to sell and raise tens of thousands of pounds for much needed educational supplies in all 32 of Falmouth’s schools.

Of all my contacts with the good and the famous (and I am far more fortunate than most people to have had so many), none will ever mean more to me than that day Nelson Mandela phoned me at my Mirfield to praise a couple of my children’s books.
​
Love and Peace Bill xxx

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Song For Today: 19th June 2020

19/6/2020

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I dedicate my song today to my sister Eileen Ann Gautry who celebrates her 75th birthday today. Eileen lives in Heckmondwike with her husband, John who is my age and is the third oldest in a family of seven siblings. She and John had their golden wedding anniversary several years ago. Eileen and her older sister Mary, and I formed the first bubble of the Forde Family, and only three years separate all three of us. Have a super birthday, Eileen. I am so sorry I cannot be with you to celebrate your special day. I love you lots. Big, brother Billy xxx

My song today is ‘I’m the One’. This was a Number 1 hit in June 1964 by ‘Gerry and the Pacemakers’. In common with the Beatles, they came from Liverpool, were managed by Brian Epstein, and were recorded by George Martin.

They are most remembered for being the first act to reach number one in the ‘UK Singles Chart’ with their first three singles, ‘How Do You Do It’, ‘I Like It’, and ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’. This record was not equalled for 20 years.

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When we were young and were growing up on Windybank Estate, all the young boys and girls soon learned two valuable responses wherever adults in authority were concerned: First, we knew never to volunteer for anything, and if anyone was ever caught in the middle of a situation with half a dozen friends where somebody had done something wrong (like criminal damage), the person who did the wrong never admitted that they were the culprit, and it was a code that none of the others ‘snitched’ in order to clear their own name. In most instances, like the collective ’I am Spartacus’ response, to the Romans, we all got the blame and we each took the punishment.

It mattered not whether it was a police officer, a teacher, or another adult, it was less shameful to be punished for something one did not do than to admit ‘I am the one!’

Deciding to identify the wrongs of another is not an easy thing to do, as opposed to walking on the opposite side of the street with one’s head down, and ’minding one’s own business’ as one passes trouble by on the other side of the street and pretends not to be aware (especially when one appreciates that the person doing the wrong will receive punishment if identified). It is harder to pull one up in public for expressing racist remarks, especially if you are part of the crowd who is socialising and having a fun night out. Such a response often invites being ostracised from the group or being considered ‘a killjoy’.

Surely, however, the most difficult of all things to do is to become aware that one of your family has committed a serious offence for which their likelihood of ever getting detected and punished is almost impossible.

Imagine that your husband has a worsening drink problem for years now, and whatever you say, he promises to cut down on his alcohol consumption but never does. He works hard and is often late home as he is expected to drink and dine with potential customers after the traditional working day has ended. He has already received a total of 9 penalty points in respect of three previous minor driving offences. On the night in question, your husband went out socialising with work friends and business contacts, and instead of leaving his car behind and getting a taxi, he foolishly drove home over the limit.

On the way back he hit a young man on a dark country road. He instinctively stopped the car, but when he saw the young walker get up and hobble away cursing him, your husband immediately drove off without checking that the young man was truly okay. Your husband knew that had the police been called and he’d been breathalysed over the limit and prosecuted, a lengthy driving ban (given his previous driving offences) would have been a mandatory sentence. He would most certainly have lost his licence. Although your family is in the higher income bracket, your favourable family lifestyle is severely threatened with collapse.

Your husband is the sole breadwinner and you are the mother of three children, with another child expected in three months. You recently bought a larger house that takes up a big chunk of your monthly income. Your husband’s high salaried job depends on him having his own car and a driving licence.

Man and wife have a big discussion about the accident when he gets home. The wife advises him to tell the police and to hope that the court is lenient. He tries to persuade her that it would be different had he killed or seriously injured the pedestrian he ‘brushed’ more than collided with, and having seen him hobble away, he feels certain that apart from a few bumps and bruises, the young man was not seriously hurt. He tells his wife that handing himself in to the police will gain nobody anything. He reminds her what such a course of action will mean for himself, his employment, and his family. He says it will mean probable imprisonment for him, loss of his good job, loss of their new family house, and he adds, that he could never trust his wife again if she failed to stand by him.

“Fail to stand by me and our marriage is over!” he warns his wife. What should his wife do? Turn her husband in or stay quiet? What would you do if it involved a family member? Would you tell?

When I was around 10 years old, and my sister Eileen was 7 years old, we had an uncle who lodged with us, Uncle Willie. Uncle Willie was a lovely man if you knew him, but he was a terrible drinker and the wickedest curser you ever heard, sober or drunk. Uncle Willie would return to our house many a night drunk and fall into bed. At the time, Uncle Willie shared a bedroom with me and my brother Patrick. One night when he returned home drunk and fell asleep, I was awake before him the next morning. So, I took full advantage of the presenting circumstances I found when I saw his trousers on the floor and that a few coins had dropped out of his pockets. Here was my opportunity to commit the perfect crime. Knowing that Uncle Willie had been as drunk as a skunk when he came home last night and wouldn’t have known what monies he had at the end of a drunken night out, I helped myself to all of his silver change (the coins on the floor as well as those coins which hadn’t fallen out of his pocket).

The upshot was my sisters Mary and Eileen saw me put the extra money (that couldn’t possibly be mine) into my pocket before I went downstairs for breakfast. The two ugly sisters threatened to tell my parents that I’d stolen from Uncle Willie’s pockets. I knew that my Father would give me a good seeing to if he found out I had stolen, especially from his wife’s brother.

Let me explain something about my sisters Mary and Eileen. Let us suppose that when I died that I was canonised by the Catholic Church and made a saint; were that to happen, the Forde family would have been the only family on record since the 'Garden Of Eden' had been created to have had three saints from one family sitting at the right hand of God when they died! In the Catholic Church, we go to Confession to have our sins forgiven, in between sinning the time to confess to new sins comes around again. How bad we have been is decided by a graduated scale of sin. One type of sin is the venial sin (the little sin), and the other type that send sone to Hell is the mortal sin(the biggest sin of all).

Let us say that while all boys and girls would usually have one mortal sin and lots of venial sins to confess, my sisters Mary and Eileen were such ‘goody-goodies’, that they have never ever committed a mortal sin! As adults, neither have ever driven at 31mph in a 30-mph zone or parked their car on a double yellow line. If they parked by a road metre and the metre was broken (thereby giving them a freebie legally), they would still post the proper parking fee to the authorities as they wouldn’t be able to sleep nights otherwise.

So, when the two ugly sisters went downstairs that morning, they raced to be the first to tell my parents, “Mum! Dad! Our Billy’s been stealing again! He’s stolen money out of Uncle Willie’s pockets. Make him turn out his pockets and see what he’s done! That morning my dad gave me a walloping and it took Uncle Willie a month before he would talk to me again. As for my sisters Mary and Eileen, all they got for snitching on their older brother was the smug satisfaction that for once, big brother had come off second best.

I wonder what my dear birthday sister Eileen (or her sister Mary) would do in the above situation if her husband John had hit a pedestrian while he was over the limit and cause hardly no injury to the victim of the car incident? Unless the leopard has changed her spots over the past 67 years or so, she’d probably ‘turn him in to the old Bill!’
Have a super day, Eileen. I love you, Big brother, Billy x
​
Love and peace Bill xxx
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Song For Today: 18th June 2020

18/6/2020

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I dedicate my song today to my favourite niece, Susan Eggett (but don’t tell the others, Susan) who celebrates her 50th birthday today. Enjoy your birthday with your husband Robert Eggett and children. Love you lots. Uncle Billy xxx

I also jointly dedicate today’s song to Suzanne Ross and Christina Kiely. Both Suzanne and Christina live in the county of my birth, County Waterford in Ireland, and they also celebrate their birthdays today. Have a smashing day, Suzanne and Christina, and thank you for being my Facebook friend. As you live in the same city and share birthdays, why not befriend each other, and mark your special day as the day when you made a new Waterford friend?

My song today is from the era of the Beatles, ‘Love Me Do’. This was the Beatles’ debut single that was backed by ‘P.S, I Love You’. The single was originally released in the United Kingdom in October 1962. It peaked at Number 17. In 1982 it was re-promoted (not re-issued, retaining the same catalogue number) and reached Number 4. It was released in the United States in 1964, where it became a Number 1 hit.

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This song was released one month before my twentieth birthday. I knew that I was planning to emigrate to Canada in December 1963 and although I was still at the height of my ‘romantic years’, I was determined not to get emotionally attached to any young woman who might steal my heart. My greatest trouble ever since I first began involuntarily reacting to the anatomical difference between girls and boys was that I could not stop myself falling in love with every beautiful young woman I ever came across or dated. How was I able to fall in love with the beautiful young women yet remain emotionally detached, I hear you ask?

I was living in the early 1960s and was constantly surrounded in the dance halls by beautiful nubile young women. While all were out to have a good night of dancing and pleasure, the majority of young women were also looking for a long-term mate. Most young women over 18 years wanted to get married to a decent young man who would be a good husband and father and provider for their family. This was the time when most young people were married by their 21st year and were often parents of two children before their 25th birthday. The greatest insult that a twenty-three-year-old unmarried woman could receive in 1960 was to be called ‘an old maid’ or suggest that she must have the feminine traits of ‘an ice maiden’.

The easiest way that young women could attract good-looking young men was as it had always been; through their sensuality. But making her catch was only the first part. She then had to ensure that she kept her young man dangling until he ‘popped the question’ and placed an engagement ring on her hand, enabling the parents of each to plan for the happy day. The surest way any young woman could keep her young man who was hungry for love was to continue to feed his manly appetite without letting himself gorge himself! Those young women who knew how best to play the courtship/marriage stakes were the ones who knew when to ‘give up enough’ to retain his interest without ‘giving it all up’ before their wedding night! It is what my mother used to mean when she spoke about being given the promise of everything with the reality of very little.

I always found that the easiest way that I could attract a young woman of my choice was to never ‘come on too strong’ on our first date or any subsequent meeting, but instead, to hold back on any serious physical contact, and focus upon developing mental contact in order to establish a meeting of minds. However, none of this mattered the slightest unless one used the most important communication skill of all; that of listening.

Many of my mates might have viewed my approach to getting a woman as being ‘a bit naff’, but as far as I was concerned, the proof of the pudding was in the eating. I was a handsome young man, but no Adonis, and I had several male friends who were better looking than I was. Yet, I got more than my fair share of the beautiful young women, so I knew that I must have been doing something right that they were not always doing.

Looking back today on my courting strategy, I can more readily recognise that my years between 12-16 years of age had made me grow up before my time. By the time I was 16 years old, I was undoubtedly mature for my age, highly presentable, and at ease in both company and conversation with people of both sexes who were much older than me. I was interested in many things that most of my peers would have considered 'too old' to be in a young man's mind, and far too highbrow. None of my reading material would ever have been picked off the bookshelves by my mates. Although, not exclusively so, but from my 18th year onward, I would prefer to go out with women a few years older than myself.

Between the ages of 15 and throughout the rest of my life, I have never once been without a beautiful girlfriend, lover, partner, or wife for more than a few weeks, unless I chose to be. Without knowing precisely why that was so at the time, I am better aware now. At the time, I initially followed my gut instinct whenever engaged in promoting female relationships. What I considered as being no more than mere ‘common sense’ before I had attained the age of twenty involved the use of psychology far more than I realised then; indeed, I employed a degree of psychology not practiced or aware of by many men in their interactions with women today.

The most common concept of young men about the opposite sex during the 1960s (which was unequal, unfair, and unjust) was that there were two stereotypes of young women. The first kind was the type with whom you had fun and sowed your wild oats. The second kind was the type of young woman you brought home for afternoon tea on a Sunday and eventually married! Even a young man’s parents advocated this concept. The first young woman who I ever brought home and introduced to my parents, I married a few years later.

By my late teens, I had already discovered three important things whenever dating that made the young women enjoy the date more and feel ‘special’ in my company. Generally, both types of young women appreciated being able to get their fair share of the conversation. All people like to talk about themselves, and their views, likes, and dislikes; and women are no different. Therefore, women appreciated being listened to by their male date. Second, while the ‘fun’ type of young woman appreciated having her body and overall appearance positively commented on and complimented by her boyfriend, the second type of woman (who would invariably hold out for marriage) was flattered more when it was her intelligence that the man complimented. Third and most important to me, was to ‘be true to myself’ and to remain above board with any young women I dated, and not mislead them. I found out that young women could accept you willingly as a ‘fun date’ with a bit of ‘How’s your father’ on the side, providing you were upfront and truthful and made them feel good about themselves, interacted with them respectfully, and made them feel happy to be in your company.

So, I always made it perfectly clear after my first date with every young woman I went out with that I intended to spend the better part of the following decade as 'a single man' and that it was my intention to live in Canada and travel around Canada and parts of the U.S.A. before I got married and settled down with a family. Therefore, however much I liked them or however well we seemed to be getting on, I would not allow myself to get emotionally involved with anyone. The bottom line was that most young women seemed happy to date me or become my dancing partner for a short while, with the knowledge that any mutual physical contact between us would always be of the ‘spontaneous’ type and would only take place by ‘mutual consent’.

I will not deceive you by saying that some young women who tentatively agreed to this arrangement did not hope to emotionally involve me more once they got to know me better, and presumably like me more. So, I would have to admit that feelings were sometimes hurt ‘inadvertently’ on the occasions that the young woman who I was dating began to want more out of our relationship than was ever on offer. That is often the emotional consequence of ‘falling in love’ when you are a teenager. Teenager’s feelings are invariably too intense, and their soreness remains too raw for far too long whenever wounded. It is as though their hearts break more easily with the unrealistic expectations that spring from living on ‘Cloud 9’.They come down to earth with too much of a bump!

Hence, I would rarely date any young woman into the second month of our relationship. I needed ‘to fall in love’ without the emotional consequences associated with ‘being in love’. So, by ending all my dating relationships after one month of contact only, I was able to ‘fall out of love’ with my previous girlfriend so that I could then ‘fall into love’ with my new girlfriend.

Today, many female readers would probably consider my behaviour in 1960 as being too cold, too cruel, and too calculating. in my defence, all I can say is that was the era of my generation; and I always prided myself of never deliberately intending to cause hurt or deceiving any young woman I dated as to my intentions.

Love and peace
Bill
​xxx

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Farewell, Dame Vera Lynn

18/6/2020

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Today, the country lost one of its most-loved entertainers who, along with Winston Churchill, were two of the most important people during the 'Second World War' when it came to rallying the morale of the fighting soldiers on the battlefields of Europe, and keeping their spirits up against an enemy force that was superior in weaponry and aircraft. Ask any war strategist or historian worldwide and they will tell you that in 1939/40 England was fighting a war that was simply unwinnable.

Put simply Winston Churchill marshalled the English language and sent it into battle across the wireless airwaves with his confident speeches that raised the nation's hope that, however many hardships England faced and battles lost, he made civilians believe that we would win the war!


Also over the wireless airwaves, Vera Lynn helped to maintain a constant connection between the English soldier fighting in the trenches and their families back home. Through her English songs, she reminded the soldiers abroad about the England they had left and the England they would return to after the war. Whereas Winston Churchill captured and tuned into the courage of the English civilian and the English soldiers, Vera Lynn captured their heart and became known as 'The Forces Sweetheart'.


While Vera Lynn was to become 'The Forces Sweetheart' and a 'National Treasure', she also was my dear late mother's 'Favourite Singer' and my own 'Dear Friend for the past thirty years'. Had mum been alive today, she would have been so proud that her favourite singer and her firstborn had become good friends.


Over the past thirty years, Vera helped me numerous times to promote my charitable ventures and my children's stories. We once arranged to jointly read to local school children in the village of Ditchling where she lives down south. Unfortunately, a few days before the reading, I was ill and could not attend, Vera went ahead with reading my book 'Robin and The Rubicelle Fusiliers' which is set in London during the Blitz and tells the story about an evacuee. After the reading, as an apology for my unexpected absence, I ensured that each of the 200 children Vera read to was given a free book.


On another occasion, I told Vera about a Mirfield man who had served in the army during the 'Second World War'. After the war, he cut out a picture of Vera from the newspaper, framed it and it sat on his mantlepiece for the following fifty years as the image browned inside the photo frame. The man's wife had died and he had become seriously ill. Vera's response was kindness itself. She sent me the original photograph to give the man. The photograph was her favourite and was cherished by her as she did not have the negative, yet she was kind enough to give a life long fan a super present. I will never forget his face when I handed him the personally inscribed photograph of Vera which he ran home with immediately to exchange with the framed newspaper image.


Vera was the very epitome of kindness in a human bundle. To celebrate her one-hundredth birthday, a CD of her most famous songs was produced for public sale. I was as pleased as punch when I later received a signed copy in the post. Her accompanying letter informed me that the CD was a special copy as so many people had requested signed copies of it, and 'she felt obliged to refuse them all, as to sign for a few of her public and not all of them would not be fair'.


Sorry to have lost you from this world, Vera. The world is a sadder place without you. We will meet again if I am lucky enough to go to the same place as you go now. Perhaps me, you and my mum can have a meetup, all three of us face to face again. Love and peace from your friend Bill xxx




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Song For Today: 17th June 2020

17/6/2020

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I dedicate my song today to my sister Mary Forde, who lives in Heckmondwike with her partner, Richard. I also dedicate it to my Facebook friend, Brian Coffey, who lives in County Meath, Ireland. My sister Mary and Brian celebrate their birthdays today. Enjoy your special day both of you and leave room for lots of cake, and maybe a drink or two.

My song today is ‘Walk Hand in Hand with Me’. This was a popular song by Johnny Cowell in 1956. The biggest-selling version recorded of the song was sung by Tony Martin that reached Number 2 in the United Kingdom and Number 10 on the ’Billboard Hot 100’ chart in 1956. A later recording by ‘Gerry and the Pacemakers’ reached Number 29 on the UK chart and Number 10 in Canada.

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As many of you know, I was run over by a large Milk Float at the age of 12 years and almost killed. My accident left unable to walk for three years due to a spinal injury, plus over fifty operations on my legs, which had been left mangled after the vehicle had knocked me down, run over me, and my body got wrapped around the main drive shaft.

During my 9 month-period in Batley Hospital, my spine started transmitting signals to my brain and my legs again, where immediately following my accident, all feeling beneath my waist had been lost. It was the medical circumstances regarding my spine damage which led the doctors to tell me and my parents that I’d never walk again.

I left the hospital unable to stand or walk and returned home. I missed the next 18 months of schooling. I had more leg operations to straighten my left leg and I started to engage in doing anything which occupied my mind and body in a profitable way. I even cycled daily before I could stand properly or walk, and whenever I fell off my bike (usually at places where I needed to stop), I would simply lie where I fell until some stranger came along and either placed me back in the saddle of my bike or took me back home.

When this song first came out, I was aged 14 years. It would be a further six months before I was able to hobble about unaided, but until then, my sisters Mary and Eileen would either push me in a home-made bunker to a friend’s house on the estate where we lived, or sometimes I would place an arm around each of their shoulders and they would act as my human crutches as they ‘walked hand in hand with me’ at a snail's pace. As with all brother and sister relationships, we would occasionally fall out or have cross words with each other, especially as I was the oldest in the family and still naturally expected to get my own way in all things. Whenever this happened, my sisters, Mary and Eileen would plonk me down on a low-level wall and then run off home laughing their heads off. I might still be sitting on that wall if my mother had not made them return for me.

That was the moment when it dawned on me, however much they loved me, and me them, I had better get myself walking sooner rather than later and not have to depend on them again!

Since I contracted a terminal blood cancer in early 2013 and anther two cancers since (skin cancer and rectal wart cancer), plus my many operations over the past 8 years (9 in total), I have been happy for Mary and Eileen to accompany me on walks despite my growing immobility, ‘but only because I now carry a mobile phone in my pocket and can call my wife, Sheila, and ask her to come and fetch me should they get it into their heads to run off and leave me again. Love you sis. Billy xx

Love and peace Bill xxx

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Song For Today: 16th June 2020

16/6/2020

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I dedicate my song today to Janis King who lives in Huddersfield in West Yorkshire. Janice celebrates her birthday today. I hope that you have an enjoyable day, Janice, and thank you for being my Facebook Friend. Bill x

My song today is ‘Spirit in The Sky’. This song was written and originally recorded by Norman Greenbaum. It was released in late 1969. The single became a gold record, selling two million copies from 1969 to 1970, and reached Number 3 on the US ‘Billboard Hot 100’ chart (April 18, 1970), where it lasted for 15 weeks in the Top 100. It also was Number 1 on WCFL on March 16, 1970, and on WLS on March 23, 1970 (just before Easter). Billboard ranked the record as ‘Number 22 song of 1970’. It also climbed to Number 1 on the UK, Australian and Canadian charts in 1970. Rolling Stone ranked ‘Spirit in the Sky at Number 333 on its list of the ‘500 Greatest Songs of All Time’. The song was featured on the 1969 album of the same name.

"Spirit in the Sky" makes several religious references to Jesus, although Greenbaum is Jewish. In a 2006 interview with ‘The New York Times,’ Greenbaum told a reporter he was inspired to write the song after watching Porter Wagoner singing a gospel song on TV. Greenbaum said: "I thought, 'Yeah, I could do that,' knowing nothing about gospel music, so I sat down and wrote my own gospel song. It came easy. I wrote the words in 15 minutes.”

About the song, Greenbaum has been quoted as saying, "It sounds as fresh today as when it was recorded. I’ve gotten letters from funeral directors telling me that it's their second-most-requested song to play at memorial services, next to 'Danny Boy’”.
When I was a boy we would go to the pictures (this is the cinema for you young whippersnappers) around two or three times weekly. The Saturday Matinee would cost a few pennies entrance and a few pence more for ice cream. Those boys and girls who had not got the entrance fee would be surreptitiously let in through the fire escape door that was in the enclosed area of the lavatory ( that is the toilet for you young whippersnappers). You might see a boy or girl slip to the lavatory after the lights had dimmed and seen three or four return back into the picture house.

When I was a boy we would go to the pictures (this is the cinema for you young whippersnappers) around two or three times weekly. The Saturday Matinee would cost a few pennies entrance and a few pence more for ice cream. Those boys and girls who had not got the entrance fee would be surreptitiously let in through the fire escape door that was in the enclosed area of the lavatory ( that is the toilet for you young whippersnappers). You might see a boy or girl slip to the lavatory after the lights had dimmed and see three or four return back into the picture house.

The film being shown would always include a ‘Cowboy & Indian’ film (not considered as being ‘racist’ viewing in the least during the 1950s). The film would always break down partway through and the lights went back on until the projectionist had done his repair job. This period of the show became the time when all manner of missiles were launched towards the heads of other seated occupants such as hard-boiled sweets, halfpennies, popcorn, and even heavier objects capable of rendering the person hit unconscious.

In almost every ‘Cowboy & Indian’ film, the Indian Chief or another native American character would make reference to the ‘great spirit in the sky’. The native American Indians had many Gods and all resided in the sky above and manifested themselves in either spirit form or in other forms of nature like bolts of lightning.

Throughout time, Christians, whilst believing that their God is everywhere, still hold on to the notion of Heaven being ‘up there’. Despite my aging years (now 77 going on 78 years of age), the sky has remained an infinite movie to me. I never get tired of looking at what’s happening up there. Even our common saying of ‘aiming for the sky to achieve our all’ tells you how much we refer to the sky whenever we think about concepts of ‘eternity’ and ‘all’. Every time I see the changing cloud patterns, they remind me that life is a constant process of change. I am reminded that there is but one God and that we all live under the same sky, but we don’t all have the same horizon. Being of different birth, beliefs, and cultures, and with each person (east or west) being of varying temperament and disposition, we will never see things and respond to emotional events in precisely the same way. Some will choose to live in the past as opposed to the present, some will automatically select the negative aspects of any situation as opposed to taking the most positive from life; and some will stay constantly looking at the ground downcast and never raising their aspirations to the sky above.

One of the most beautiful quotations I ever came across came from Eleonora Duse, the 19tyh century acclaimed Italian actress:
“If the sight of the blue skies fills you with joy if a blade of grass springing up in the fields, has the power to move you if the simple things of Nature have a message that you understand, rejoice, for your soul is alive.”

Love and peace Bill xxx
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Song For Today: 15th June 2020

15/6/2020

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I dedicate my song today to any girl or woman with long hair that touches her waist and loves to ride a horse.

My song today is ‘Mandy’. This song was recorded by Barry Manilow, an American singer-songwriter, arranger, musician, producer, and actor with a career that has spanned more than 50 years. His hit recordings include ‘Could It Be Magic’: Mandy’: ‘I Write the Songs’: ‘Can’t Smile Without You’: ‘Copercabana’.

He recorded and released 46 Top 40 singles on the ‘Adult Contemporary Chart’, including 13 songs that hit the Number 1 spot, and 28 of which appeared within the top ten. He also released 13 platinum and six multi-platinum, albums. Manilow has sold more than 75 million records as a solo artist worldwide, making him one of the world’s best-selling artists.

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This song was released during the early 1980s. In all my life, I have only once personally known of a girl or woman called ‘Mandy. I came across the young woman in question when I was living and working in Toronto, Canada. The only reason I remember her (now 56 years ago) is because of her blonde hair. The young woman lived in Texas and was on her way home via a relative she had visited in Toronto. She was in her mid-twenties and conducted herself like a high-powered businesswoman. She behaved full of confidence and looked like a woman who was well capable of handling any man who tried to put her down, with her wit and charm alone.

As she signed in for an overnight stay, I will never forget her costume and hat. She was a smart-looking woman and wore a fashionable and expensive twin suit which was crowned with a tall, flamboyant hat that one might expect to see on ‘Ladies Day’ at Ascot races every June. Later that day, I was attending the hotel desk when she came down to make an inquiry. I then understood why she had worn so large a hat. She had beautiful blonde hair which now hung loosely over her shoulders. Her tresses and locks did not stop until they touched her waistline.

It was around 9:00pm and we spoke at the hotel reception desk for a good twenty minutes. I complimented her on her beautiful hair and made some remark about the amount of time it must take her to daily brush and maintaining its texture. When asked if it ever got in her way, she replied, “When I go riding, it has to be fastened uptight, otherwise it might cause an accident”. Her mere mention of horse riding instantly made the fair damsel more interesting to me. Because of a childhood accident, I had been left with one leg shorter than the other and often lost my balance. To improve my balance, since the age of 17 years I had started to engage in various sports and activities, of which horse riding was the most recent. Mandy’s long hair and horse-riding activities provided me with an instant image. It was a picture of a fair beauty riding a horse that is immortalised in English history. From that moment on, I had renamed her in my own mind as ‘Lady Godiva of Coventry’. I told her that she would forever remain ‘Lady Godiva’ in my mind. She had never heard of ‘Lady Godiva’ so I acquainted her with the famous woman.

I told her that Lady Godiva was the wife of the Earl of Mercia. She was reportedly a woman who cared for her people. The Earl imposed ever-higher taxes on the people of Coventry, and they found the new taxes too high to pay. The Earl’s wife beseeched her husband to relent but the more that Lady Godiva begged her husband to lower the taxes he had imposed on the people, the more adamant he became that they would remain. Lady Godiva could sense the injustice of her husband’s actions and continued to plead on behalf of the poor people of Coventry. Finally, and wanting to bring the issue to a close, the Earl told Lady Godiva that if she rode through the streets completely naked, he would lower the taxes; thinking that this would shut her up and put an end to the matter. He was more than surprised when Lady Godiva accepted his offer. Lady Godiva sent a message through town telling the people of the agreement she had made with the Earl on their behalf and asked for their cooperation to preserve her dignity during the ride. She told everyone to close their shutters and stay indoors. At the appointed time when the streets were empty, Lady Godiva rode through town. She was naked from head to foot and was visually protected only by her beautiful long hair which had been grown to waist length, and which now wrapped around her most private body parts. thereby preserving her womanhood. The Earl gave in and lowered the taxes of the town. However, a licentious tailor named ‘Tom’ drilled a hole through his shutter, and as Lady Godiva rode past his property, and he caught a glimpse of her naked body as nature had made her. He was struck blind for his disobedience. Some think his punishment of blindness came from heaven, and some think that the town ‘took care of him’ themselves. This is where the phrase ‘Peeping Tom’ for a voyeur comes from. There were many celebrations to remember Lady Godiva’s courage and Peeping Tom was added to the story in the 17th century.

Mandy loved the story and gave me one of those looks that make a man's mind think twice about what he says next. She told me that it was a lovely story and that she would always think of me whenever she recalled the tale. I thanked her and told her, “Likewise". Mandy only stayed at the hotel one night and had her stay been as long as her beautiful golden locks, I would most certainly have tried to have seen more of her.

It would be another twenty years before Barry Manilow recorded 'Mandy' and had it not been for the crowning glory of her waistline hair that walked into the hotel reception of 'The Glenview Terrace Hotel' in Toronto over 50 years ago, I might never have remembered the blonde beauty from Texas.
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Love and peace Bill xxx
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Song For Today: 14th June 2020

14/6/2020

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I dedicate my song today to Martina Wells Casey who lives in Carrick-on-Suir. Martina celebrates her birthday today. Enjoy your special day, Martina, and thank you for being my Facebook friend. Bill x

My song today is ‘Many Rivers to Cross’. This song in the reggae genre was written and recorded in 1969 by Jimmy Cliff. It has since been recorded by many musicians, including Harry Nilsson: John Lennon: Joe Cocker: Percy Sledge: Desmond Dekker: UB40: Cher: Eric Burdon & The Animals: The Walker Brothers: Linda Ronstadt: Annie Lennox: and Bryan Adams, etc.

Jimmy Cliff was aged 21 when he wrote and recorded the song in 1969. Cliff stated he wrote the song due to the trouble he was having making it as a successful musical artist after originally finding success in his home of Jamaica, beginning at age 14, before moving to the United Kingdom. He commented upon how hard it was to ‘make it’ and referred to the numerous struggles he faced and bridges of hardship he crossed along the way. He said, “That song came out of my own experience."

This is one of the few Cliff tracks to use an organ, which helps to supplement the ‘gospel’ feeling provided by the backing vocalist on the track. Jimmy Cliff released the song on his 1969 album, ‘Jimmy Cliff’. It was also released on the 1972 soundtrack album for the film ‘The Harder They Come’, in which Cliff also starred. ‘Rolling Stone’ ranked it Number 325 on their list of the ‘500 Greatest Songs of All Time’.

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PLEASE NOTE THAT THIS POST IS ONE OF THE LONGEST, BUT ONE OF THE MOST IMPORTANT WHICH I HAVE WRITTEN OVER MY YEARS ON FACEBOOK. IT ADDRESSES THE RACISM PRESENT AND PRACTISED IN ENGLAND AND AMERICA OVER THE CENTURIES AND ATTEMPTS TO OFFER A DISPATIONATE APPRAISAL. MY LENGTHY POST ALSO RAISES OTHER MATTERS LIKE MASS PROTESTERS, UNACCEPTABLE PUBLIC STATUES AND SUGGESTS ALTERNATIVE ACTION WHICH COULD BE TAKEN IN ADDITION OR PREFERENTIAL ORDER. (WRITTEN BY A WHITE, IRISH MAN AND MIGRANT TO ENGLAND 52 YEARS AGO).

Over the years, this song has been used as a kind of emblematic ‘rites of passage song’ that many ‘Windrush’ Jamaicans coming to live in Great Britain brought with them as they sought a more prosperous way of life. Most migrants had experienced a harsh existence being brought up in a country that always had insufficient work for its young men and women joining the job market ever since many of its natural exports like sugar cane and coffee were priced out of the market by western economic practices. Even those who are fortunate enough to secure paid employment receive inadequately low wages (often as low as $1 a day in 2002 when I was last there in 2002). For many years now since establishing their independence, the only investment that enters Jamaica is the tourists who annually visit its shore, foreign aid, and the illegal trade in the exportation of drugs.

There is a cruel irony to be found in any country so beautiful with its clear-water seas, golden beaches, wonderous mountains, and breath-taking countryside, to see the other side of the coin show a much uglier picture. In its crime statistics, Jamaica has (more often than not) been the murder capital in the world over the past 40 years. It has a good education system despite its appallingly poor resource level, and teachers are highly respected and are applauded wherever they go, just as NHS nurses are in England.

Unfortunately, the country is totally lacking in prospects for its young teenager. Schooling drops off with acute regularity in their mid-teens and too many of the young Jamaican women too often become ‘the spare woman’ for their absent man and father of his child/children. As for gainful employment for young men leaving school, there isn’t anything ‘legal’ to be had! The only avenue that young men without the prospect of bona fide work have, is to join the gangs and to push drugs.

The most common dream of all young men and women born in Jamaica is that they can one day manage to find their way to either America or England. As many a lonely tourist widow has found on a holiday to the Caribbean, should she wish to pick up a ‘toyboy’ twenty years or more her junior, all she has to do is to lay there on the beach alone and she will be shortly approached by a man feigning interest. The woman may believe that she has found the man of her dreams on the golden sands of a Jamaican shoreline, without realising that what her Jamaican man friend wants much more than her, is a passport out of Jamaica to either America or England. As far as the Jamaican is concerned, these two countries have always been at the top of their ‘escape to list’.

The information that I provide here is gleaned from my personal knowledge of having visited Jamaica a few times during early 2000 and having worked in collaboration with the Jamaican ‘Minister for Education, Youth and Culture’ in an educational trans-Atlantic pen-pal project between thirty-two English schools and all thirty-two schools in the Parish of Trelawney over a three year period (2000-2003). The aim of this project was fourfold:
(1) First and foremost, we wanted to help reduce racial prejudice between black Jamaican pupils aged 6-16 years in Falmouth, Trelawney (the old slave capital of Jamaica) and white English pupils in Yorkshire.
(2) Through the pen-pal process of writing letters to each other monthly, we wanted to increase the black and white pupil’s awareness and a better understanding of their different cultures and way of life. The thirty-two Yorkshire schools undertook to fund the whole postal cost for the trans-Atlantic pen-pal project, as even the purchase of postal stamps was an economic cost that the poorer Jamaicans was unable to personally meet. They also raised the necessary funding cost to publish thousands of copies of two books with Jamaican and African story themes that I specifically wrote to advance the trans-Atlantic project.
(3) To raise funds for Jamaican school projects and the supply of much-needed educational resources. The monies raised from the writing and sales of four of my books with Jamaican and West African themes (which were shipped to Falmouth in their thousands of copies), helped to stock depleted school libraries, as well as being sold to raise the necessary money to buy vital school resources. The conditions experienced by Jamaican junior school pupils were hard to believe as we entered a New Millennium when compared to pupils in English schools. The Jamaican boys and girls had half a pencil each with which to write. They wrote on both sides of a sheet of paper, and also in between the lines. Textbooks were shared between four pupils, and the floor they walked on in class was often the earth beneath one’s feet. The Jamaican stories that I wrote helped to promote the positive aspects of Jamaican life as well as those aspects which were far from acceptable.

The late Nelson Mandela read three of my African/Jamaican books and phoned me personally at my home in Mirfield, West Yorkshire (through a three-way Home Office telephone call) in the year 2000 to praise these stories. After the South African President had praised my work and the news was carried around the world on the television ‘News 24 Channel’, the Jamaicans (who regarded Nelson Mandela as being one of the greatest men alive) could not get enough of me. Their view was simply one that said, ‘If Bill is good enough for Mandela, then he is good enough for us!’

The books which I had written for the Jamaican market and schools were shipped across to Jamaica in their many thousands. Many hundreds of copies were placed on depleted school library shelves in Falmouth schools, and many thousands were sold to raise money that was used by the thirty-two Falmouth schools to replenish educational stock. I was ever so proud when Basil Smith (the educational co-ordinator on the Jamaican side of the trans-Atlantic project) informed me that the headteachers of every one of the thirty-two schools in Falmouth had placed my books on their educational curriculum; a decision that had been heartedly endorsed by the ‘Jamaican Minister of Education.’

Over my years of contact with the Jamaican Educational Minister, and the Mayor (Custos) of Falmouth, and the thirty-two Falmouth schools and their Heads, many good friends were made. Unfortunately, I had to withdraw my heavy involvement during the early 2000s when I incurred two heart attacks within the space of one week; the last one which left me unconscious for four days.

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I love Jamaica and I love its people. Every year, hurricanes destroy many of their humble dwellings where most of the people live; many in make-do shacks and wooden huts. The torrential storms and hurricanes tear up their roads and destroy their bridges which connect one parish with another neighbouring parish. But, does the now homeless Jamaican throw their hands up in the air and become wholly inactive with severe bouts of depression? No! When their homes and shops have been destroyed, do they lay down and die in response to such yearly devastation and tragedy? No! Instead, they stand up proud, determined more than ever to rebuild their poor-quality dwellings and places of business. When their shops are destroyed, until re-built, the Jamaican trader sells their produce from market stalls and on the roadside. They repair their roads, re-build new bridges, and get on with living their life the best way they can. Special characteristics of a typical Jamaican is that they are always positive and forward-looking, and are usually smiling, dancing, and singing!

Let any English stranger walk into the poorest of households in Jamaica today and there is a 90 percent chance of being warmly welcomed and offered something to eat and drink. Whatever the Jamaicans have in the house to eat and drink as a family, they are always willing to share with a stranger. This is Jamaica which I experienced and grew to love. This is Jamaica which enjoins constant struggle with happy music, rebellious songs, sexy dancing, and reggae promises of good times to come once Jamaica can move forward from its enslaved past.

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For centuries now, black people across the world have experienced, racism, and discrimination in every walk of life, including (social, religious, political, educational, health, housing, and legal). It took centuries of having been treated as second-class citizens before mass black protest won the rights of the black infant to be born ‘out of slavery’. It took another century to establish the right of the black citizen to vote and appreciate the human and civil rights such as non-segregation in all public venues and spheres of everyday life.

These important developments, however, are not enough, and the wheel of equal justice for the black citizen has yet to turn full circle. The cycle will not be complete until all countries across the world rid its institutions and many of its peoples and customs of traces of racism against dark-skinned people; racism that is deeply ingrained by ‘white insensitivity’ and ‘white ignorance’, and on many occasions, ‘white intolerance’, coupled with ‘white blindness’ (of not seeing the same thing the same way as most of our black sisters and brothers). It is as though while we may be looking at the same statue, image, situation, or event, we are having a different experience, and seeing something different to each other. I will never forget the words of a West African friend of mine forty years ago telling me that until I can accept the twin-concept of looking at life with ‘black eyes’ and ‘white eyes’, the black and the white citizen will always see what we both look at differently! He then said that unless we accept the twin-concept of a ‘black heart’ and a ‘white heart’ within one body, we will never feel things precisely the same.

I don’t have to look across the Atlantic Ocean towards the blatant killing of George Floyd and many other black citizens by the police establishments or to hear the clear presence of racism from the mouth of their President, Donald Trump. I can also evidence deaths in this country of black citizens which represented police brutality and replay words spoken by our own Prime Minister, Boris Johnson about black citizens which were indisputably racist. The most recent English act of judicial racism being ‘called out’ was evident in ‘The Windrush Scandal’ of 2018 which concerned people who were wrongly detained, denied legal rights, threatened with deportation, and, in at least 83 cases, wrongly deported from the UK by the Home Office.

Institutional racism against black people is in today’s spotlight after the recent killing of George Floyd by the New York police officer. The death of George Floyd effectively lit a touch fuse that ignited the world’s indignation, and pent up repressed anger has exploded into mass protests which have mushroomed across the world to condemn racism practised against its black citizens, as it loudly advocates the message ‘Black lives matter’.

The prosperity of many white nations (like America and England) was built on the backs and the profits of slavery, colonialism, and empire expansion which resulted in the deaths of countless blacks along with other colonised natives, there is a growing desire for these two countries, in particular, to get rid of every statue, image, and vestige of any person ‘who was associated with slavery, colonialism, and the deaths of black people’. With England having once ruled a quarter of the world through Queen Victoria’s Empire, these monuments which were originally erected in honour and memory of prominent men and women of the time, are now seen (where racist associations are being currently drawn) to represent wholly unacceptable images of 2020 positive recognition within any civil society that purports to uphold ‘equality for all in all things’.

The mass protesters are determined to rid England and America of every aspect that represented the colonialism and the enslavement of many peoples over past centuries. However, I do not believe that this eradication of offensive monuments, images, and street names ought to be done by the wanton destruction in the heat of the moment, as this carries the probable risk of a justifiable movement being hijacked by extremist protesters from both the Right and the Left, who have different political agendas to pursue. What is required more than ever now is much wider discussion and decision making by community groups reaching consensus by more civilised means, which does not attempt to obliterate all knowledge of ‘ the historical fact’ (both good and bad), but one that involves finding a way where society can more accurately interpret and contexualise past events and the prominent people in them, to the satisfaction of all its citizens; both black and white.

I remember well a wise Jamaican friend I knew called Basil Smith, and with whom I worked on ‘our project’ as he called our English and Jamaican pen-pal collaboration. Interestingly, everything Basil engaged in he would term as being ‘a project’. I remember thinking at the time that anyone who used the term ‘project’ tended to focus on the future instead of dwelling on the past.

I have never been a ‘blatant accuser’ or a ‘token apologist’ in my life for past acts of enslavement, colonial expansion, or empire building committed by any nation since the Romans ruled parts of England, and I do not intend to be one now. Being Irish by birth, I know only too well of the great harm that the English Army and the English aristocratic farm settlers did during the 17th, 18th, and 19th century in Ireland. Being a student of English and American and European History all of my life, I am well able to reach a balanced view relating to probable cause and subsequent circumstances, along with the various actions by different parties, despite the fact that it is often said that ‘history is written by the victors’(slanted through their contexualisation and skewed interpretation of events, which is always ‘subjective at best’ and ‘inaccurately detailed at worse’.

The English took much from my Irish ancestors. They acted abominably, with little regard to human feelings, life, and without any semblance of ‘natural justice’. The blight which caused ‘The Potato Famine’ of 1845 was caused by fungi and not the English landlord or their occupying army per se. But because the tenants and their families relied heavily on the potato as the main source of food, the infestation had a catastrophic impact on Ireland and its population, and not one hand by the landlords or the English was raised to support the people dying from starvation and related causes in their millions. At least another million people were forced to leave their homeland as refugees.

Despite the cruel, inhuman and despicable part that the English played in much unhappiness, starvation and death caused to many of my Irish ancestries, and in spite of anything England ever took from the country of my birth during its reign of occupation, England has served me well for over 70 years of my life!

As far as the Forde family of the 20th century is concerned, England took us in as immigrants during the ‘Second World War’ years and provided us with everything we ever had. England gave us good housing, constant employment for my father and six siblings, a good education for all seven children (with three siblings educated to degree standard, plus almost all the Forde grandchildren of my parents attending universities and holding down well-paid professional jobs today). Along with access to the world’s best Health Service that is free at the point of delivery ( made possible only through its black and ethnic minority staffing levels), and a good pension in our old age, we were provided with much more than we expected as migrants to a new land.

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After Great Britain relinquished its empire in the 1950s,(more a consequence of circumstance than one of choice), England opened wide its immigration doors and offered lives of hope and prosperity to millions of migrants annually. It accepted all the refugees from Uganda in 1972 when General Amin expelled them and allowed them yo keep only £10 of their assets. England kept its doors for immigrants open until the latter decade, during which, the neediest of citizens, were placed at top of the housing ladder of every council in the land. Most people who were regarded as being of ‘highest priority’ in England were invariably the black immigrants and their families. This policy was often seen by white Englanders as having been ‘queue jumped’, and while these expressed sentiments could be seen by the black migrant as reflecting ‘intolerance’ of white people waiting on the housing list, very little of this response would be viewed as being ‘blatantly racist’ by any impartial observer. Only recently, because of China's colonialist policies towards Hong Kong, Great Britain has announced that any migrant from Hong Kong is welcome to live in Great Britain and adopt citizenship.

England is, and always has been (alongside America), the preferred country of choice to migrate to by most non-white migrants around the world today. If England is such ‘a bad place to live’, and if England is such ‘an intolerant country,’ and if England is considered to be ‘more institutionally racist’ than any other European country, why then, oh why, is England still the country which is most preferred by immigrants seeking a better life for themselves and their families? Just consider how many countries that ‘illegal migrants’ travel across and pass through to get to their preferred destination and then ask yourself, ‘Why is this so? Why do they choose to come to England above all other countries?” The answer is simple. However intolerant, discriminatory, and racist England still remains towards black migrants and its British born black citizens (and there is no doubt that we still are to some large degree), we are infinitely less so than most, if not all, predominantly white populated countries in the world!

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The history of any nation is a matter of ‘what happened’. These facts can be accurately verified by impartial historians with no ax to grind. ‘Why’, ‘how’, and ‘to what degree’, and with ‘what intent’ such things happened is always a subjective matter of human interpretation and contexualisation. I willingly accept that ‘every nation’ slants the history of any event, or any chain of events, in favour of its own people and government (either marginally or significantly, and either accidentally or deliberately). The history of any country, religion, or race should contain all relevant events and actions, whether good or bad, and whether ‘racist’ or ‘non-racist’. The late Nelson Mandela believed so when he said, “Hiding our history is not the route to enlightenment. We have to understand our history and we have to confront it.”

The presence of racism in any society should not be a question for debate, but rather the indication for immediate action to be taken to correct the situation! Having said all this, there is a wider and ongoing discussion to be had, and there are decisions to be consensually arrived at, and positive action to be mutually taken which places the black person on an equal footing in every respect with their white neighbour. No public statue should honour past racists and past colonialists, no citizen (black or white) should seek to eliminate their presence at the time they lived and full account of their total actions (good and bad) from our history books. Even men and women who did bad things do not deserve to have any good things they ever did forever disregarded. I have always held the view that ’The Scales of Justice’ has two sides which it should accurately weigh in balance (although this is clearly not the case in respect of all its citizens).

I do not object against the presence of the protests regarding of all forms of racism, discrimination and the practice of slavery wherever it exists, but cannot approve of mass protests in the middle of a Coronavirus pandemic. The mass protests are illegal on the grounds of health because they place the lives of innocent non-protesters at risk as well as every protester taking part in them, because of the absence of social distancing measures being observed.

If the mass protests are to continue, however, against all the legal and health advice of the government, the scientist, the chief medical officers, and the police in the current Coronavirus pandemic which hovers close to the ‘r’ number of 1; and if mass protesters place their cause above all the lives that their actions will inadvertently bring about to innocent others, I would merely say this.

Regarding your current mass protests against all forms of racism, if you insist on marching today, I would ask you to march down a number of other streets also because I object to the limitation of the scope of your cause and the extent of its impact. While readily accepting that racism is still embedded in all our major institutions and way of life (including the Church, Society, and State), I would personally consider all forms of current 'enslavement' to be targeted instead of having the energy of the mass protesters disproportionately directed solely toward long-dead racists, past slave masters and their statue images instead of the current 'slave masters' who are alive and kicking.

If the mass protesters must march today, I believe that more benefit would be instantly received by honest society, were the protesters to also concern themselves with tearing down other devasting presences of modern-day ‘slavery’. Instead of seeing some policemen attacked and old statues defaced and pulled down, I would rather prefer to see thousands of protesters surround the hidden houses of trafficked ‘sex slaves’ until their capturers freed the women they sexually exploit? I would like to see thousands of protesters encircled the homes of known drug pushers throughout the land who ‘enslave’ the mind and body of their addicts until their pernicious drugs invariably kill him or her! I would ask the mass protesters to keep their drug baron captives in a siege position with all their deadly stash and deadly profits, until the police arrive, arrest them and prosecute them, and enable them to be and sentenced and imprisoned, whatever their colour!

Is it not as valid to protest in your thousands outside the homes of the industrial gentry who use ‘migrant economic slaves’ to work in their grand homes for the pittance of a weekly wage; and not forgetting your own humble cleaner who you may only pay a few pounds an hour ‘on the quiet’ to perform work that you would never consider doing yourself for such ‘slave wages’? Is it not as valid to protest outside every business and shop and works who pay their employees below living wage levels, and to remain there until the employer stumps up with an appropriate wage increase, or until their business goes bust? And not forgetting to marshal mass protest outside every shop, factory and business concern who either uses machinery and manufactures and sells products which uses the mineral products extracted from the earth by children earning pennies (elements which are necessary to make your watches, laptops, computers, and mobile phones etc) in the most intolerable of conditions.

Finally, not forgetting all the fashionable clothes and footwear which are produced in the sweat factories of the far east, and which many a mass protester daily wears as they comfortably march against a different type of ‘slavery’ than the ‘economic slavery’ their purchases probably continue to support and maintain today? Indeed, the very purchase of any cheaply produced item such as our supermarket food, and any manufactured imports that is only made profitable by the sweat of child labour or cheap adult labour, involves ‘a similar rationale’ in play that slave traders and colonialists brought to the consumer over centuries past.

Of course, none of these things can ever compare to the transportation and enslaving of black people, and the incurrence of their death through the search of profit, dominion, cheap labour, and discrimination. But if mass protesters feel morally compelled to march in public today (in spite of all legal and health advice not to do so), could not some of the energies spent pulling down statues also be diverted in shaming and ridding our society of all these other forms of physical, sexual, and economic dimensions of ‘slavery’ that are present in every city in Europe, England and America today?

I will never forget my Jamaican friend, Basil telling me, “Bill, passing a law against slavery and taking the leg manacles off an enslaved Jamaican didn’t set him free. Until and unless the Jamaican can move on with their future life without being governed by their past experience (however unjust and tragic that experience was), their minds and bodies shall always remain shackled to the past and they shall remain forever enslaved; not by ‘their white master’ but by their own thoughts and emotions they have not yet resolved, yet insist upon projecting onto others, sometimes rightly but also sometimes wrongly.”

I should tell you that Basil had two degrees which he obtained from an English university and that he worked within the Office of the Jamaican Educational and Youth Culture Ministry for the last twenty years of his working life. My recall of his words is those approximately spoken by him, but the message is conveyed was 100 percent accurate as recalled.
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Love and peace Bill xxx

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Song for Today: 13th June 2020

13/6/2020

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​I dedicate my song today to Margaret Mary Walsh from Carrick-on-Suir and Dermot Anthony Keyes who lives in Portlaw in County Waterford (the village of my birth). Margaret and Dermot celebrate their birthday today. Have a smashing day and thank you both for being my Facebook friend. As you share the same birthday, why not befriend each other? Bill x x

My song today is ‘Massachusetts’. This is a song by the ‘Bee Gees’ that was released in 1967. The song was written by Barry, Robin & Maurice Gibb. Robin Gibb sang lead vocals on this song and it would become one of his staple songs to perform during both ‘Bee Gees’ concerts and his solo appearances. It later appeared on their 1968 album, ‘Horizontal’.

The song became the first of the group's five Number 1 hits in the ‘UK Singles Chart’. It also reached Number 1 in twelve other countries. It also peaked at Number 11 on the ‘Billboard Hot 100’ and eventually became one of the best-selling singles of all time, selling over five million copies worldwide. When the brothers wrote the song, they had never been to Massachusetts.

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Like the Bee Gees when they sang this song, I too have not been to Massachusetts which borders the neighbouring states of New York, and Maine and Connecticut. I did once travel to Rhode Island which is bordered by Connecticut to the west, and Massachusetts to the northeast. Have a nice day, everyone.
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Love and peace Bill xxx
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Song For Today: 12th June 2020

12/6/2020

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Having no known Facebook friends who have publicly announced that they are celebrating their birthday today, I choose to dedicate my song today to all females, girls, young women, and older women who were sexually abused or were taken sexual advantage of in time gone by. Today’s message could not be clearer; ‘NO MEANS NO!’

My song today is, ‘Maybe Baby’. This rock and roll song was written by Buddy Holly and producer Norman Petty. It was recorded by the ‘Crickets’ in 1957. The single, credited to the Crickets, was a Top 40 hit in the U.S., the UK, and Canada.

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I prefix what I write in my post today about behaviour that was commonly practised by young men ‘out on the pull’, and practised by some courting couples, and even by many married men without their wives consent, by saying that ‘THE BEHAVIOUR THAT I REFER TO IN TODAY’S POST REPRESENTS BEHAVIOUR, ATTITUDES, AND VALUES WHICH I NEVER CONDONED, ENDORSED, JUSTIFIED, ENGAGED IN, OR EVER CONSIDERED OTHER THAN BEING WRONG, IMMORAL AND CRIMINAL’

The late 50s and early 60s in Great Britain was a much different world than we live in today. It was a time that many people of much younger age than my 77 years would find repugnant to even comprehend. However much equality females enjoy today in relation to the males in society (and I am not arguing that full equality between the sexes currently exists or ever did), apart from having the vote, the only other things women had between the 17th and 21st century in Great Britain is what men were prepared to give or allow them.

Throughout these centuries, English citizens still lived in a man-made world. To put it bluntly, it was a world where males often treated women, their needs, their views, and their wants as being a ‘second consideration’ to whatever the male wanted. Women were second-class citizens in every regard that mattered; a position they held in the home, the community, their church congregation, parliament and the law, society at large, and throughout the country. This second-class citizenship was reinforced by the laws of the land; man-made laws made for the benefit of men.

Ever since the 1700s, the man had been legally able to dominate his wife in all things. When they married, her property and estate automatically became his. Indeed, she also became his property; to do with as he willed. He might have many extra-marital affairs which were considered ‘the norm’ by upper and middle-class society, but if she strayed from the marriage, her husband could have her locked away in some mental institution upon the say of a doctor friend. Whenever couples from upper and middle-class society separated or divorced, the father got automatic custody of the children. Should a working-class man leave his wife, he usually left their children in his wife’s care and custody, but when he did so, it was usually ‘through his choice’.

In the 1700s, England passed a law that allowed a man to ‘chastise his wife with a whip or rattan that was no thicker than his thumb, in order to enforce domestic discipline in the home.

Even when we advanced to the Victorian era, there was little change in male attitudes towards their women. It mattered not which class we look at, because in all three defined classes, the men treated their women as inferior. At dinner in upper-class circles, it was considered wholly inappropriate and unladylike for any female diner (even the hostess) to express a personal view upon any serious discussion which was taking place at the table between the men, such as politics etc. After dinner, the women would retire to the Drawing Room to engage in small talk and to do other things that it was considered dignified for women to do, while the men smoked their cigars and talked about ‘men matters’.

When we fast forward to the 1930s, 40s, 50s and 60s, the man went out to work and the little woman stayed at home, had children, and cooked her husband’s tea to serve him at the end of his working day. As soon as the man of the house arrived home from work, his wife would have his evening meal ready to eat. Those of you who were born around the time of the ‘Second World War’ years will have grown up with hearing your mum tell all her children eating at the table(whether they were young or married adults, as well as including her husband in her comment), “No talking politics or religion at the table please!” This was a quiet kind of rebellion that the working-class wife and mother’s engaged in, as she surreptitiously stamped her authority and reminded everybody at the family table that she was sexually equal as a wife and parent within the household, thereby giving her the right to decide what kind of topics she considered suitable for discussion at the dining table.

People are horrified today at the unnatural behaviour that the Jimmy Saville’s of this world committed with impunity for three and four decades against young girls, between the rise of the pop celebrity during the 1960s and the New Millennium. While I abhor what Saville and other sexually abusive ‘celebrities’ did, and were allowed to get away with for so long before being called to account, it does not surprise me in the least that it happened at the time it did!

The 1960s seemed to usher in a new and more promiscuous era in England. Films and books of the day became more sexualised in their content, and what would have once been depicted by the ‘shutting of a bedroom door and the dimming of the lights’ now required more visually sexually provocative scenes, dirty language and sexual grunts and groans to satisfy the viewing patron. The advent of the mini skirt appeared to promote fashion contests between who could show off more of the female’s undercarriage while still being considered as respectable in the world of designer clothes. Hippies hugged and kissed strangers on the open street and handed them a rose, and all manner of communes started to mushroom where having multiple sex partners and engaging in ‘free love’ seemed to be the ‘in thing’ with many young people who lived there.

Then, the coming of ‘The Pill’ seemed to revolutionised one of the biggest inequalities between the sexes at a stroke, and for the first time, women from all classes of society need not continue to be baby machines if they chose not to be. The birth control pill, however, was a double-edged sword. While women could now control whether they conceived a child or not as a consequence of copulation with a man, they were still expected to do the man’s bidding. A few wives may have persuaded their ‘enlightened’ husbands to get ‘the snip’, and thereby obviate the need of them having to take the birth control pill with its possible long-term health risks, but in the main, the man preferred to keep all aspects of his manhood intact! Having birth control manageable by the tripartite male methods of coitus withdrawal, French letters, or having a vasectomy, it was of no surprise that it would remain left to the female to pop the pill in her mouth to ‘take care of things’. And, if by any chance, the female happened to have ‘unwanted sex’ (clearly defined as rape today), she could always take ‘the morning after pill’ to remove the human consequences of the night before!

Unfortunately, both sexually-active males and females used the introduction of the contraceptive pill as having been given permission to engage in ‘promiscuous’ behaviour which invariably tipped over into ‘unacceptable’ behaviour, and often ended in ‘criminal’ behaviour having been committed.

Throughout every young man’s road to manhood, he will invariably come across a popular saying or a much-held belief which appears ‘to make a statement of fact’ when it is, in fact, expressing ‘an echo of male desire’. A common saying by many males in my late teenage years and a common belief held by other males was, “If she says ‘no’, she means ‘maybe baby’, and if she says ‘maybe baby’, she means yes!”

Three decades as a Probation Officer in West Yorkshire brought me in contact with so many women who had been sexually abused in childhood, their teenage years, and even in their marriage by a family member, a boyfriend, a stranger, or their male partner. Such incidents varied enormously in degree but nevertheless were viewed by the female concerned as ‘having been sexually molested and violated’. Often, the sexual abuse that had occurred in a matter of moments took a lifetime to come to terms with! I have heard women describe what was a sexual assault having occurred in their teenage years and lasting for less than a minute, sour the relationships of that abused female for a lifetime. Occasionally I have heard even male colleagues who were supposed to be ‘professional’ say inappropriate things like, ’Why she couldn’t just get over it, I will never understand. Good God, she was only touched up and fingered by a boyfriend. Anyone would think she’d been gang-raped and left for dead!”

The bottom line in all manner of emotional experience is that no other person in the world can ever truly know what any experience means for me, or me them! When somebody sexually abuses another person, they effectively open up an emotional wound that never heals completely and forever affects the thoughts, feelings, and actions of the abused person.

Given the ‘Me Too’ revelations of the past decades, throughout many quarters of society in England, America and Europe, nothing much seems to have changed in the way some men regard and treat women. It matters not whether it is a randy prince or a promiscuous pauper; when some men hear a woman say ‘no’, they will still take her reply to signify consent!

The only saying that requires mandatory learning by both sexes from infancy to old age in 2020 is that ‘NO MEANS NO!’
​
Love and peace Bill xxx
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Song For Today: 11th June 2020

11/6/2020

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I dedicate my song today to Vanessa Green from Jarrow. Vanessa celebrates her birthday today. Have a nice day, Vanessa, and thank you for being my Facebook friend. Bill x
My song today is ‘Misty’. This song is a jazz standard that was written in 1954 by pianist Erroll Garner. It became the signature song of Johnny Mathis and appeared on his 1959 album ‘Heavenly’ and reaching Number 12 on the U.S Pop Single’ chart later that year. Country and pop singer, Ray Stevens had a Number 14 hit with his version of ‘Misty’ in 1975 on the ‘Billboard Hot 100’. This version reached Number two in the United Kingdom. The song has been recorded many times, including versions by Ella Fitzgerald, Aretha Franklin, Frank Sinatra, Sarah Vaughn, and most recently, by alternative rock band ‘Qui’.

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I recall first hearing this song when I saw the film, ‘Play Misty For Me’ starring Clint Eastwood. This was a low budget film that proved to be a box-office success. I saw this film around four years after its 1971 release. I found this film to be too close for comfort in part of its storyline to make it easy watching, especially when the film theme is about a fixated woman who pursues the man she wants to be with.

The year was 1975 and I had been married for seven years and had trained and been working as a Probation Officer in Huddersfield for four years. In spite of being one of the newer Probation Officers to Huddersfield, the six-month ‘Relaxation Training and Assertion Training Group Programmes’ I had begun operating three years earlier were receiving remarkable results in which the press got hold of and widely publicised around other press and media in West Yorkshire. The programmes operated two hours weekly and lasted twenty-four weeks in total. The groups were always oversubscribed and would always have between twenty and thirty members in them. My credentials to instruct relaxation training satisfied Probation management to give me free rein in my group content (I had practised Relaxation myself since the age of twelve years).

I insisted from the start that I wanted to work with mixed membership groups. Group membership was made up of both sexes with an 18-year-old minimum age bar. I also insisted that I wanted to research my ongoing work, and therefore I wanted group membership to compose of members who had criminal records, and members who had never committed an offence in their life, and members who already worked in some social work/ psychological/ professional capacity and who wanted to develop and improve their Relaxation Training skills. Each week, members (who would only be known by their first name unless they chose otherwise) would sit alongside and interact with one another not knowing which co-members of the group had criminal records, no criminal records, or were professional workers. This composition type of group enabled me to compare the behavioural differences and contrast the overall progress which took place over the six-month course. Only I knew the precise status of each group member, and believe me, if one didn’t know, with a few exceptions, one would not always be able to tell an arsonist from a psychologist.

Without going into too much detail, the response pattern types of my group members would cover the three response pattern types within all behavioural range. The professional workers in the group would in the main behave ‘appropriately assertive’ in their responses; the violent group members would predominantly display the ‘aggressive’ response pattern, and the most reserved group members who wouldn’t say boo to a goose would predominantly display the ‘non-assertive’ group response. With my group composition containing all three response types that go to make up an individual’s collective response pattern, my research would become easier to evaluate and more relevant to developing greater effective working methods.

There were many clear observations and findings in the first six groups that I ran between 1971-1975, which I will not dwell on here, only to say, that my initial feedback and research was to lead me towards developing an effective process of working with violent people that I called, ‘Anger Management’. This method was freely spread around other workers in England, and within a further two years following its inception in the Huddersfield Probation Office by myself, ‘Anger Management’ had mushroomed in practice around the English-speaking world. Ever since 1977, onwards, the method I founded and pioneered has helped countless violent people manage their aggressive behaviour.

Despite making a global advance in a viable working method that I pioneered, the local press (forever on the lookout for a story with the more personal angle to hook onto) was more interested in one main consequence of my earlier ‘Relaxation and Assertion Training Groups’. One of the group members in my first group was a man who had been wheelchair-bound for over six years with what was then known as ‘Chronic Fatigue Syndrome’ or colloquially referred to as the ‘Yuppy Flu’. Some doctors believed that this was a viral infection, some believed that it existed in the minds of people stricken with it. Many psychiatrists considered the condition to be a mental illness and some psychologists regarded it as being brought on by psychological stress while other schools of psychological thought believed it to be psychosomatic (brought on by one’s own thought process).

Being a behaviourist, I was less concerned with the causation of this severely debilitating and energy-draining condition and was more concerned with improving or ridding the person of it. There was no doubt that whatever its roots, there was nothing imaginary about its real damaging effects on the person experiencing it. Some people with the condition remained housebound for years; some took to their sick beds with debilitating physical symptoms that interrupted their daily lives and adversely affected their family relationships. All of the people with the condition reported that they had lost all energy and 40 percent said that they were no longer able to walk and were now wheelchair-bound permanently.

Traditional worker approaches to dealing with the condition at the time were gentle exercise and lots of rest. The methods I used were relaxation and self-hypnosis, in conjunction with strenuous exercise (the very opposite to the conventional approach advocated by other professionals).

After my first group programme, by the end of it, the man who had occupied his wheelchair for six years was confident enough to abandon it. He had successfully been able to negotiate the strenuous exercise regime I had set him. A month or so later, he must have reported his ‘miraculous progress’ to the ‘Huddersfield Examiner’. Before long I was inundated with people who had suffered from the condition for between three and seven years, and who wanted to undergo membership of my six-month group programme. The press and television love ‘miraculous cures’ despite me telling all and sundry that my behaviourist programme of work in my ‘Relaxation and Assertion Training Course’ accomplished the significant change in their condition, and that it was ‘method practised’ and not ‘miracle experienced’ that was responsible for their significant improvement, along with the client’s hard ‘homework’ undertaken individually, as guided by myself.

However, when faced with the obvious, the media always look for the weird and the wonderful. Having overcome my own inability to walk for three years as a child after damaging my spine after a wagon ran over me, and being told by the medics that I would never walk again, and nevertheless walking again, had already built the image of me that fitted the story the press wanted to print. Over my first six programmes of work, another six wheelchaired members with the condition abandoned their wheelchairs forever! The press loved the story which told of ‘the lame helping the lame to walk again’.

Back to the song, ‘Misty’ and the film it featured in. After a surfeit of press and media publicity of radio and television, one young female in my group in her mid-twenties developed a fixation with me. She was an attractive married woman who had been reared in Children’s Homes all her life, and without me knowing it at the time, she was a fantasist. After she had attended a few group sessions, she waited outside after the group had finished and ‘sexually button-holed/ propositioned me’. While being naturally flattered, I knew that I did not want the situation to go where she wanted it to.

After a second unsolicited approach by her a few weeks later, I terminated her group membership, foolishly thinking that would be the end of it, but it wasn’t. Then, she started stalking me (this was long before ‘stalking’ was a term the public was acquainted with). She wrote me letters addressed to the Probation Office professing her love for me and saying that we should marry and be happy forevermore. She even spoke about the babies that she wanted with me. This was highly embarrassing as my secretary used to open all my mail and file it inappropriate order to be dealt with.

After she contacted my senior describing a relationship of her fantasy between us, I decided that enough was enough and to contact a solicitor to write a ‘warning off’ letter to her. I am glad to say that was the end of the matter.

The story plot of the film ‘Play Misty for me’ in which my song today was the signature tune, reminds me of my experience of being stalked. In the film, the popular radio show host Dave Garver (Clint Eastwood) dates a woman who becomes an obsessive fan, and who telephones the host of the show repeatedly on air to request he play the song ‘Misty’. Garver soon discovers extricating himself from the woman will be no easy feat as she becomes increasingly psychotic.
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Love and peace Bill xxx
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Song For Today: 10th June 2020

10/6/2020

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I dedicate my song today to my good friend Ann Rhodes from Cleckheaton who celebrates her birthday today. I hope that you enjoy your special day, Ann with Tom, and hopefully you will have a family video/skype with your children and grandchildren. Thank you for all your moral support and prayers over the years. I regard you as a dear friend despite our absence of frequent visits. Bill and Sheila xx

My song today is ‘Money That’s What I Want’. This is a rhythm and blues song that was written by ‘Tamla’ founder Berry Gordy and Janie Bradford. This also represented the first hit record for Gordy's Motown enterprise. Barrett Strong recorded it in 1959 as a single for the ‘Tamla’ label and distributed it nationally on ‘Anna Records’. Many artists later recorded the tune, including the Beatles in 1963 and the ‘Flying Lizards’ in 1979. According to the music staff of ‘Time Out London’ ranked ‘Money (That's What I Want)’ at Number 24 on their list of the ‘Best Beatles Songs Ever’.

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When this song was first released, I was planning to go to live and work in Canada and America for two years.

I was the firstborn of seven children born to Irish Catholic parents who emigrated to West Yorkshire towards the end of the Second World War’ years in 1946 with myself and my next two sisters down the family tree, our Mary and Eileen. Upon landing in West Yorkshire, we did not have two pennies to rub together and we occupied a one-room property where we lived. The house was a tied-property of my father’s mining employers. Dad worked at the coal face and the house we first lived in was no larger than a four-yards x three-yards single room where we lived, ate, slept, and did everything else. We had to go outside to use a compost toilet.

Mum, like most Catholic wives of the time, was a continuous baby machine. Every time I went into the hospital with appendicitis or a broken arm or leg, I would be met on my hospital discharge by another brother or sister who’d been born during my absence and delivered at home by my mum.

To get a firm foot in our new country, mum quickly made friends with the grocer, Harry Hodgeson and his wife Marion, who had a shop across the road from where we lived in Hightown. Harry kindly ‘ticked’ my mother sufficient family groceries for the first week after our arrival in our tied-property, and this relationship was to be the start of what proved to be the most important of any financial arrangement and relationship my mother was to make with anyone on English soil before she died at the age of 64 years in 1986.

From that first week when the friendly family grocer allowed my mum to pay for the food we ate out of the first wages my father would receive ‘the following week’, an unspoken understanding had been mutually agreed which remained in existence for the next fifteen years. Whatever food and household items my mother got from the grocer this week, Harry would ‘tick’ us until the following week. The ‘tick’ limit that Harry would extend would be determined by the amount that mum had repaid the following week. Thus, paying Harry Hodgeson what we owed (always one week behind) made him mum’s most important creditor. The grocer even took precedence over the rent man and all other creditors.

By the time that the Forde family had increased in size to seven children, we had been allocated a brand new council house on ‘Windybank Estate’, where naturally our weekly debt with our friendly greengrocer correspondingly increased in ratio to the new offspring in our household that required feeding.

I still smile whenever I recall the vast amounts of basic foodstuff we would daily consume as a family. Being the oldest and most responsible child, it was my job to do my mother’s shopping as Harry Hodgeson’s grocer shop was now half a mile away and was no longer a hop, skip and a jump across the main road from the miner’s tied-cottage we formerly lived at. I recall being puzzled at the looks I got if ever another customer was also in the shop at the same time as I was placing our daily order, especially as the large food order of six loaves and three bags of sugar and three stones of potatoes were placed on the counter. I had no sense of embarrassment then and would often wonder why a stranger would be gawping at our daily shopping list?

Mum always gave me a note with the items daily required ‘clearly written out’, but I was a ten-year-old boy full of pride, and I refused to be seen handing a note over to the grocer like a little child. I would learn by heart all the items needed as I walked to the grocers, and once satisfied that I knew, I would discard the note and physically ask the grocer for each item in turn. After receiving the daily list of provisions bagged up, I would quietly whisper, “Mum said, could you put it in the little red book, Mr. Hodgeson?”

This feature of always being one week in debt to our family grocer was to become a standard pattern for the majority of large and poorer families in the Hightown area. When poor Harry died (I was in my late teens), it was rumoured by those in the know that he went to his grave, buried with his little red book inside his pocket, and all the names of his creditors and the amounts of money they owed Harry died with him. I have often wondered if any of the good people who still owed him money when he died ever owned up to their outstanding debt with the executors of his will? It was later rumoured that it had been one of Harry’s largest creditors who had managed to spot the grocer’s ‘little red book’ on the sideboard on the night of Harry’s wake and surreptitiously stuffed it inside the coffin while most of the gathering was highly inebriated. The ‘little red book’ containing its long list of creditors and amounts outstanding was subsequently buried with the deceased!

Because of the size of the Forde family, all my six brothers and sisters were dressed in jumble sale garments and wore ‘hand-me-down’ clothes for our first ten years of life. Many were the time when I was obliged to wear shoes that had holed soles which shook hands with the pebbles and dirt whenever my feet walked across stony ground.

At the age of 11 years, I was the victim of an horrific road accident when a large wagon knocked me down and ran over me; twisting the trunk of my body around the main drive shift as it did so. I was left with life-threatening injuries and was discharged from the hospital nine months later with the medical prognosis that I would never walk again. I did walk again three years later; by which time a solicitor had obtained a large amount of financial compensation that I would receive when I reached the age of majority; twenty-one years old.

By today’s standard, the amount of compensation I received enabled me to fulfill my dream of travelling to America. I never needed much of this money to spend when I lived in Canada as I worked for my living. Instead, simply knowing that I had it and could readily access it if ever required represented a form of financial/psychological security that meant I would never be financially stuck. Having my compensation money ‘on the side’ enabled me to occasionally make large gestures.

I once recall my first date with Jenny Downton. Jenny was the eldest daughter of the then ‘British Trade Commissioner’ based in Toronto, and being a small person of big gesture, I wanted to make our first date ‘special’. I wanted to give Jenny one night in her life that she would always fondly remember. So, after seeking out and finding a lovely small restaurant that had a romantic ambiance about it, I learned which midweek evening that the restaurant was the least busy, and then paid the owner $600 (around £300) to close the establishment all that evening between, 7: 00 pm and 10:00pm while me and Jenny ate alone. At the time, I earned around $60 per week working at my hotel employment as a reception clerk, and my romantic gesture equated with three months of basic wages. Jenny and I courted for six months before I returned home to England. She was my first real love; someone who had circumstances been different and she a few years older, I would have married.

On other occasions, I used some of my reserve money to travel to different parts of the States, as my weekly wages from the hotel where I worked barely covered my lodgings, food, and basic maintenance. So whenever any special event arose that cost a bit more than my income allowed, or I wanted to travel elsewhere for a weekend, I would dig into my money reserve.

When I arrived back in England. I got married at the age of twenty-six years. Marriage provided the impetus I needed to change my life’s direction. I gave up my job as Mill Manager in Cleckheaton and over a three-year period, I obtained the educational qualifications I needed to gain university entrance at night-school classes. Initially, I planned to go to Bath University to take an honours degree in British History and become a History teacher. Then, at the last moment, I decided to become a Probation Officer and I attended a course of study and training at ‘Newcastle-upon-Tyne Polytechnical College’ instead.

When I was first married, we each had £2000 in compensation awards that we had previously received (she for her father’s industrial death from asbestosis, and me for my road accident as a child). At that time, our combined total of £4000 enabled us to buy a £4000 three-bedroomed modern detached house outright (Our matrimonial abode would be valued at £250,000 today)

We started our married life with every favourable advantage of no mortgage and two professional salaried jobs as an infant teacher and probation officer. As we did not have any children until 1974, we lived a rich lifestyle for the first six years of our marriage. Our marriage subsequently failed after thirteen years, and the upshot was I left my wife with all the assets of our marriage including sole ownership of the marital abode, and I started rebuilding my life from a penniless position.

The moral of my story today is that I needed to be left penniless before I started to appreciate the real worth of what really matters in life. It was only when I stopped being a person of acquisition that I discovered how to become a better, more purposeful, and happier person. Instead of making my primary goal one of acquiring things, I gradually became a person who was learning to automatically ‘give away’. Only then did I become a much more fulfilled and happier person. I had discovered that if one does not humble oneself, life does it for you!

I am neither poor nor rich in money terms today and probably have no more than a few hundred pounds in my bank balance between one pension cheque and the next. Sheila and I do possess a lovely home though in Howarth that is mortgage-free, and like all old properties, constantly needs something replacing.

Despite having three different body cancers (including incurable blood cancer), I have never been happier in my life. I am married to the most beautiful wife in the world (inside and out); I enjoy close and loving relationships with my children, siblings, and all my family members. I have many close friends and good neighbours. Every day, somewhere in the world, daily prayers are said for me, candles are lit, and frequently a mass is offered on my behalf by good people whom I have never met in person or will probably never will. I feel a much-blessed and much-loved man. With such assets and happiness, ‘WHO NEEDS MONEY?’
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Love and peace Billxxx
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Song For Today: 9th June 2020

9/6/2020

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I dedicate my song today to my cousin, Alan Ford who lives in Morecambe and J. Michael J Michael Reagan who lives in Berkeley, California. Alan and Michael celebrate their birthdays today. Have a nice day chaps and thank you for being my Facebook friend. Bill.

My song today is ‘Move It’. This song was written by Ian Samwell and was recorded by Cliff Richard and the ‘Drifters’ (the UK band that would later become ‘The Shadows’). Originally intended as the B-side to ‘Schoolboy Crush’, it was released as Richard's debut single on 29 August 1958 and became his first hit record, reaching Number 2 on the ‘UK Singles Chart’. It is credited with being one of the first authentic rock and roll songs produced outside the United States. The record was described by ‘All-music’ as being ‘Presley-esque’ and by Cliff Richard himself as "my one outstanding rock 'n' roll classic".

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I was nearly 16 years old when Cliff first released this song. The song title reminds me very much of a foreman who supervised us at ‘Bulmer & Lumb’ Textiles’; the Cleckheaton mill I then worked at. His first name was ‘Frederick’ and he was a bit of an officious jobs-body.

Frederick supervised around eight male mill-hands whose jobs essentially involved bringing and shifting whatever was required to keep the spinning, weaving, twisting, and winding departments in the mill fully operational and their female operatives happy. Mostly, we would cart empty bobbins and shift full ones from one mill department to another and clean the machines during the lunch break of the female operatives.

During the early 1960s, working practices and the ambitions of the working-class were far more limiting than they are today. As a rule, unless a working-class girl or boy was clever enough to pass the exam for Grammar School at the age of 11 years, going to university was reserved exclusively for the middle and upper classes. In fact, not to put too fine a point on it, Great Britain still had a deeply divided class system which operated from the cradle to the grave and in which everyone had a place and ‘everyone knew their place!’

Upon leaving school, working-class boys went to work in the factories or the textile mills or went down the mines like their fathers before them. In fact, it was far more common for a son to follow their father into both the type of work they would eventually do and often the same place of employment. Men would invariably stay working for the same employer for over thirty years until they retired and were presented with an inscribed clock to celebrate a lifetime’s loyalty and service to the same employer! The luckier boys might serve a five or a seven-year apprenticeship in carpentry, engineering, plastering, plumbing, decorating, or becoming a bricky. Only the boys who came from better-off homes, where the parents were not financially dependent on their child’s wage to supplement the family income could afford to let their son follow an apprenticeship that would guarantee them a good wage when they were fully skilled, but only paid a peppercorn rate of pay while the young man learned his trade on the job.

If a working-class man was very lucky, the most he could ever aspire to in the mill, mine or factory was that of ‘foreman’ or a ‘deputy’; and even then, working-class foremen tended to be ‘working foremen’ on weekly wages, while middle-class foremen were salaried and paid monthly, and their functions were devoid of performing manual work and restricted solely to supervising manual and other workers below them!

Frederick was our ‘working foreman’, and because of the dictatorial mannerisms he displayed to all those males he supervised, all thought him to be a ‘Little Hitler’ while the younger lads like myself called him by his Christian name, but would always add another ‘r’ and include a silent letter ‘p’, Freder(p)rick! This enabled us to publicly insult him without him ever knowing and enable us to call him a ‘prick’ to his face without him ever suspecting anything untoward, except the unusual way we would emphasise his Christian name.

The carts we pushed back and forth all day long were very heavy (twice our body weight) and almost the same height as we were. Whenever we paused for a breather occasionally, should Frederick see us, he’d immediately yell out, “Move it, boy! Move it! The bloody machines won’t fill themselves!” Upon receiving our orders, we would yell back, ‘Gotcha Freder(‘p’) RICK! Gotcha Freder(‘p’) RICK!” as we acknowledged his rudely-issued order with a wave of our hand. As we carried on pushing the heavy carts with our shoulders raised and faces down, we would be smirking as we softly repeated in a muffled voice, ‘Move it, FrederPRICK! Move it, FrederPRICK!

Today’s song reminds me of our officious mill working-foreman. If only Frederick knew that we would still be alive twenty years after his old clock (he had worked a lifetime to earn) had stopped; if only he knew that we are still going strong while he is presently ‘pushing up the daisies’ (an old Yorkshire colloquialism for being dead and buried), he’d turn in his grave, while we yelled back at him in synchronisation, “Move it, FrederPRICK! Move it, man!”
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Love and peace Bill xxx
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Song for today:8th June 2020

8/6/2020

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Given my present medical circumstances, I have had to radically alter the structure of my day. I need to rest more and concentrate less as every little thing is taking twice as long to do, or have done for me by Sheila. I have pre-recorded new singing videos for almost one year in advance, so you will still hear my voice, but as I will not be able to add my daily story to my daily song posted, you will have to do without my accompanying words. I shall, instead, merely mention the birthday celebrants to whom I have dedicated my daily song. Please excuse my reply to any comments made being reduced to a mere 'Thank You'. I shall still scroll through the Facebook pages of my Facebook contacts on an evening to keep abreast of the loves and vicissitudes of your life.

My song today is ’Love of My Life’. This song was recorded by ‘Queen’ from their 1975 album ‘A Night at The Opera’. The ballad was written by the late Freddie Mercury.

I dedicate my song today to Linda Jennings Francis from Elland in West Yorkshire. Linda celebrates her birthday today. Have a nice day, Linda, and thank you for being my Facebook friend.
Love and peace Bill xxx

October 12th I dedicate my song today to Today’s song is ,’Love of My Life’. This song is by the British rock band ‘Queen’ from their 1975 album ‘A Night at  The Opera’. The ballad was written by the late Freddie Mercury.

I dedicate my song today to Linda Jennings Francis from Elland in West Yorkshire. Linda celebrates her birthday today. Have a nice day, Linda, and thank you for being my Facebook friend.
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Love and peace Bill xxx

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