FordeFables
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      • No Need to Look for Love
      • 'The Love Quartet' >
        • The Tannery Wager
        • 'Fini and Archie'
        • 'The Love Bridge'
        • 'Forgotten Love'
      • The Priest's Calling Card >
        • Chapter One - The Irish Custom
        • Chapter Two - Patrick Duffy's Family Background
        • Chapter Three - Patrick Duffy Junior's Vocation to Priesthood
        • Chapter Four - The first years of the priesthood
        • Chapter Five - Father Patrick Duffy in Seattle
        • Chapter Six - Father Patrick Duffy, Portlaw Priest
        • Chapter Seven - Patrick Duffy Priest Power
        • Chapter Eight - Patrick Duffy Groundless Gossip
        • Chapter Nine - Monsignor Duffy of Portlaw
        • Chapter Ten - The Portlaw Inheritance of Patrick Duffy
      • Bigger and Better >
        • Chapter One - The Portlaw Runt
        • Chapter Two - Tony Arrives in California
        • Chapter Three - Tony's Life in San Francisco
        • Chapter Four - Tony and Mary
        • Chapter Five - The Portlaw Secret
      • The Oldest Woman in the World >
        • Chapter One - The Early Life of Sean Thornton
        • Chapter Two - Reporter to Investigator
        • Chapter Three - Search for the Oldest Person Alive
        • Chapter Four - Sean Thornton marries Sheila
        • Chapter Five - Discoveries of Widow Friggs' Past
        • Chapter Six - Facts and Truth are Not Always the Same
      • Sean and Sarah >
        • Chapter 1 - 'Return of the Prodigal Son'
        • Chapter 2 - 'The early years of sweet innocence in Portlaw'
        • Chapter 3 - 'The Separation'
        • Chapter 4 - 'Separation and Betrayal'
        • Chapter 5 - 'Portlaw to Manchester'
        • Chapter 6 - 'Salford Choices'
        • Chapter 7 - 'Life inside Prison'
        • Chapter 8 - 'The Aylesbury Pilgrimage'
        • Chapter 9 - Sean's interest in stone masonary'
        • Chapter 10 - 'Sean's and Tony's Partnership'
        • Chapter 11 - 'Return of the Prodigal Son'
      • The Alternative Christmas Party >
        • Chapter One
        • Chapter Two
        • Chapter Three
        • Chapter Four
        • Chapter Five
        • Chapter Six
        • Chapter Seven
        • Chapter Eight
      • The Life of Liam Lafferty >
        • Chapter One: ' Liam Lafferty is born'
        • Chapter Two : 'The Baptism of Liam Lafferty'
        • Chapter Three: 'The early years of Liam Lafferty'
        • Chapter Four : Early Manhood
        • Chapter Five : Ned's Secret Past
        • Chapter Six : Courtship and Marriage
        • Chapter Seven : Liam and Trish marry
        • Chapter Eight : Farley meets Ned
        • Chapter Nine : 'Ned comes clean to Farley'
        • Chapter Ten : Tragedy hits the family
        • Chapter Eleven : The future is brighter
      • The life and times of Joe Walsh >
        • Chapter One : 'The marriage of Margaret Mawd and Thomas Walsh’
        • Chapter Two 'The birth of Joe Walsh'
        • Chapter Three 'Marriage breakup and betrayal'
        • Chapter Four: ' The Walsh family breakup'
        • Chapter Five : ' Liverpool Lodgings'
        • Chapter Six: ' Settled times are established and tested'
        • Chapter Seven : 'Haworth is heaven is a place on earth'
        • Chapter Eight: 'Coming out'
        • Chapter Nine: Portlaw revenge
        • Chapter Ten: ' The murder trial of Paddy Groggy'
        • Chapter Eleven: 'New beginnings'
      • The Woman Who Hated Christmas >
        • Chapter One: 'The Christmas Enigma'
        • Chapter Two: ' The Breakup of Beth's Family''
        • Chapter Three: From Teenager to Adulthood.'
        • Chapter Four: 'The Mills of West Yorkshire.'
        • Chapter Five: 'Harrison Garner Showdown.'
        • Chapter Six : 'The Christmas Dance'
        • Chapter Seven : 'The ballot for Shop Steward.'
        • Chapter Eight: ' Leaving the Mill'
        • Chapter Ten: ' Beth buries her Ghosts'
        • Chapter Eleven: Beth and Dermot start off married life in Galway.
        • Chapter Twelve: The Twin Tragedy of Christmas, 1992.'
        • Chapter Thirteen: 'The Christmas star returns'
        • Chapter Fourteen: ' Beth's future in Portlaw'
      • The Last Dance >
        • Chapter One - ‘Nancy Swales becomes the Widow Swales’
        • Chapter Two ‘The secret night life of Widow Swales’
        • Chapter Three ‘Meeting Richard again’
        • Chapter Four ‘Clancy’s Ballroom: March 1961’
        • Chapter Five ‘The All Ireland Dancing Rounds’
        • Chapter Six ‘James Mountford’
        • Chapter Seven ‘The All Ireland Ballroom Latin American Dance Final.’
        • Chapter Eight ‘The Final Arrives’
        • Chapter Nine: 'Beth in Manchester.'
      • 'Two Sisters' >
        • Chapter One
        • Chapter Two
        • Chapter Three
        • Chapter Four
        • Chapter Five
        • Chapter Six
        • Chapter Seven
        • Chapter Eight
        • Chapter Nine
        • Chapter Ten
        • Chapter Eleven
        • Chapter Twelve
        • Chapter Thirteen
        • Chapter Fourteen
        • Chapter Fifteen
        • Chapter Sixteen
        • Chapter Seventeen
      • Fourteen Days >
        • Chapter One
        • Chapter Two
        • Chapter Three
        • Chapter Four
        • Chapter Five
        • Chapter Six
        • Chapter Seven
        • Chapter Eight
        • Chapter Nine
        • Chapter Ten
        • Chapter Eleven
        • Chapter Twelve
        • Chapter Thirteen
        • Chapter Fourteen
      • ‘The Postman Always Knocks Twice’ >
        • Author's Foreword
        • Contents
        • Chapter One
        • Chapter Two
        • Chapter Three
        • Chapter Four
        • Chapter Five
        • Chapter Six
        • Chapter Seven
        • Chapter Eight
        • Chapter Nine
        • Chapter Ten
        • Chapter Eleven
        • Chapter Twelve
        • Chapter Thirteen
        • Chapter Fourteen
        • Chapter Fifteen
        • Chapter Sixteen
        • Chapter Seventeen
        • Chapter Eighteen
        • Chapter Nineteen
        • Chapter Twenty
        • Chapter Twenty-One
        • Chapter Twenty-Two
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July 31st, 2015.

31/7/2015

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Thought for today:
"There are times when we all need a place to think where we will not be disturbed. I have always had one or two secret places where I know that I could go to if I wanted and nobody would ever find me until I was ready for showing my face to the world again. 

I have long known that the secret of success is often no more than getting started, but paradoxically it was only when I discovered Relaxation and Meditation, I learned that until you are prepared to lose yourself, you can never be truly found. 

After three years of being unable to walk in my youth, when I did eventually regain mobility I frequently walked to a nearby wood down Green Lane, one mile from my house in Windybank Estate, every day the sun shone. The small woodland area was commonly known as 'Bluebell Wood.' Once there, I would lie myself down beneath a large oak tree at its centre and close my eyes. For many an hour I relaxed beneath that oak, feeling the warmth above percolate down through the branches overhead and warm my face and outstretched hands below. As I lay there, my arms and legs got heavier, my breathing would start to become as evenly spaced as the woodland breeze and I'd hear the many variety of birds sing. Before long, I would become so still in mind and body that I'd be able to hear and distinguish the noise of every woodland creature and I would eventually drift off into peaceful sleep. My body would sink into the earth upon which it lay, my heart would pulsate to the steady beat of woodland life and my blood pressure would flow in synchronisation with the ripples of a nearby stream. I found myself totally relaxed and I discovered that in every sound the hidden silence sleeps. I would always awake reinvigorated and feel stronger in myself and be more ready to face the world again.

Over the three years I visited 'Bluebell Wood,' little did I realise the important part this place would play in my future role as a Relaxation Trainer and Stress Management Consultant.

It would be almost twenty years later after I'd become one of the foremost Relaxation Trainers in the country that I decided to make a relaxation tape to help poor sleepers and searchers of inner peace. After almost two full weeks in a recording studio and the personal expenditure of over £2000, the tape entitled, 'Relax with Bill' was produced. Despite receiving a number of lucrative offers to sell the tape, all of which I refused, I decided instead to freely distribute it to every stressed client I ever encountered thereafter. The relaxed scene I use in the recording is the precise scene I visited myself over twenty years earlier in Bluebell Wood.

I have, since its production in the 1970s, freely given away between 5,000 and 10,000 copies of this tape and I also include it on my website where it can be freely downloaded by any interested reader. I only ask that it not be played while performing any task that requires one's full concentration such as driving and that it not be used by pregnant women, people who normally have very low blood pressure (as the tape reduces blood pressure further) and people with any form of brain dysfunctioning. Daily practise of around half an hour over one month will help you sleep much easier and reduce high blood pressure quicker than any tablet can. Please pass on to anyone in need." William Forde: July 31st, 2015.         http://www.fordefables.co.uk/relax-with-bill.html

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July 30th, 2015.

31/7/2015

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Thought for today:
"Cruelty is cruelty whoever the perpetrator is and when violence is performed against any living creature it can never be justified...or can it asks the poet? 


It seems to me that the question most worthy of the asking is, 'Does the pain mankind inflicts on helpless animals hurt any less or make the suffering more acceptable than it would were we to feel it?'" William Forde:July 30th, 2015.
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July 29th, 2015,

30/7/2015

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Thought for today:
"Let us embrace all the good things about our fellow man and wherever possible avoid the bad. The tree of life will never be found naked if we keep our roots anchored in wholesome soil and do not ignore the lessons of our forefathers and look out for the young of tomorrow. If however, we eat into the inheritance of our children and spend today their future profits yet unearned, we will leave them bereft of all the greenery we have ever known.


From all of the political mistakes I have observed over the past seventy years, the worst thing the adults of this country have done to the children of tomorrow is to saddle them with an enormous debt which they can never repay and to ensure that austerity will remain with them during their entire lifetime. However did we become so selfish a society as not to care for those who come after us with the brush and dustpan?" William Forde: July 29th 2015.
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July 28th, 2015.

28/7/2015

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Thought for today:
"We are each trying to find the right path to walk down; the path that will take us to the place our hearts and minds want to go. My advice is that if what you are doing makes you happy and keeps you in love with life and your neighbour, then keep doing it as you have already found your path of happiness to follow. Should however, you find yourself down the wrong path, trust in the certainty that if you don't change direction, you will most certainly end up where you're heading.

While it may be the journey and not the arrival which matters most in one's travels, have no doubt, it is the path that changes you! One of the sayings of Buddha sums it up in the words: 'No one saves us but ourselves. No one can and no one may. We ourselves must walk the path.'

So if we believe we are walking the right path, all we have to do in life is to keep walking and we will eventually get there. Never think that death is the last path we shall walk, for as sure as meadows spring up each season, so shall our spirit return to the delights of God's woodland." William Forde: July 28th, 2015.


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July 27th, 2015.

27/7/2015

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Thought for today:
"When all is said and done 'smug is smug' and no amount of persuasion will ever convince me that it's only one step removed from laughing silently behind your back!


When I was a Probation Officer, I recall once coming across a young man who was forever getting his custodial sentence extended and losing all remission because of his inability not to give a mouthful back to any Prison Officer who goaded him. The more he produced this type of aggressive response, the more they riled him. The answer was to teach him the power of active restraint whilst allowing his imagery, thoughts and self-talk to travel any path they wanted, so long as he kept them quiet.


The next time an officious Prison Officer tried to goad him with the aim of producing an aggressive response for which he could then be sanctioned, to their astonishment he remained calm and smiled back at them...while imagining a scenario in which something nasty happened to the said Officer whilst silently mouthing, 'fat head' at him as he continued to smile warmly. I also found this ploy very useful with a number of school children who had a personality clash with certain teachers whom they were constantly mouthing off to and attracting detention from.


Being quite pleased with my new discovery at the time, which I seriously considered patenting across the world, I told my mother and expected a pat on the back. Instead, all I got was her curt reply, 'I've been doing that to your dad for years, along with every other married woman I ever met. Grow up, Billy!' " William Forde: July 27th, 2015.
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July 26th, 2015.

26/7/2015

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Thought for today:
"There is a bible story about a traveller who was walking to Damascus. As the traveller approached the city, leaving it was Saul who'd recently been converted to all that was good and wholesome. The traveller said to Saul, 'Pray tell me, as I am going to live in Damascus, is it a nice place to live? Are the people there friendly and good neighbours?' Saul replied, 'Did you find your neighbours helpful and friendly in the last town where you lived?' The traveller replied, 'No! They were a strange lot with whom I always felt uncomfortable. That's why I decided to move out and set up home in another town.' Saul looked towards the traveller and replied, 'Then unless you change your ways, I'm afraid you'll find them the same here also!'

When I was growing up in the early 50s, I must confess that I found the world a much friendlier place than it is today. The Second World War years had forged a spirit of community which is frequently said to be sadly lacking in modern times. This was a time when neighbour would help neighbour without being asked and would receive likewise when their need was present. These were times when people were pleased to share what little they had with a neighbour who had less and lend a hand and rally round in times of hardship.

Let me tell you that the world hasn't suddenly become devoid of such good neighbours although the world has changed considerably. It's true that we don't tend to live in each other's houses as much as our parents and their neighbours once did anymore or perhaps gossip as often or as extensively with every passer by, but it would be wrong to think that such goodness has completely vanished from our neighbourhoods in the space of sixty years. I am willing to bet that the overwhelming majority of folk reading this post represent such good people and would still react as their parents once did. I know that we are no longer a nation of letter writers, but we communicate with others no less, albeit differently than in the past.


It heartens me to see people open up their minds and souls on Facebook today about all manner of things in their life, both good and bad, pleasurable and painful. Are they not communicating with others of like mind? Are they not sharing in a purposeful way? What pleases me enormously however, and is evident by people's posted responses that I daily read, is the tremendous support that a person experiencing illness or some other difficulty in their life receives from friends, acquaintances and people whom they have never met, yet know more about than their parents ever learned about their next-door neighbours.


People need people today as much as they have always done. It isn't suRprising that they will make use of whatever role, task or device in conventional society which they commonly engage in order to communicate, whether it be chatting on mobile phones, texting, participating in social media networks like Facebook or even looking up the dating sites. 


Just as such methods are today's means of communication, in yesteryear it would have been talking outside their front door with the neighbour as they swept down the path or whitened their doorstep, hung out their washing across the street as they gossiped with next door or merely leaned over their garden wall/fence having a good old chin wag. What gossip they couldn't pick up there or pass on in these locations could be obtained in attending the local pub, the Women's Institute and other community gatherings or even Sunday Church!

It is sadly true that there has been a number of changes which many of us oldies might not have welcomed with open arms, but whatever change that has taken place has been in the so called ways and conventions of modern day society and not in the people who go to make up our neighbourhood. Our neighbours are still as good or as bad as they ever were, as are we.
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So continue to be friendly to everyone, particularly those who deserve it least as they need it the most. Throughout my life I have found that when you are a happy and contented individual who cares for one's neighbours, everything is possible and tomorrow looks friendlier through any window, from any doorstep or across any garden wall! " William Forde: July 26th, 2015. 


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July 25th, 2015

25/7/2015

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Thought for today:
"Sometimes when we mess up with someone close to us and finish up in the dog house, it is so embarrassing for all concerned. Whenever this happens, I have found that the best thing to do is to put on the bravest face you can and sit things out until you can show yourself to the world once more." William Forde: July 25th, 2015.

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July 24th, 2015.

24/7/2015

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Thought for today:
"There is no sadness strikes as deep or lasts as long as the death of an unborn child in a womb that has waited to bring forth life. Unfortunately, around 4,000 babies are stillborn in the UK each year. Stillbirth refers to the death of a baby after 24 weeks of pregnancy, but before birth.

So often have I heard or encountered women who lost the child in their womb who received less support than they deserved. Because it had died before delivery, others considered its loss to have been less than say a child who died in infancy or in their early childhood. Nothing could be farther from the truth! When a child is conceived, it is conceived in both the mind and body of a woman and the two cannot be separated by any change of circumstances that transpires thereafter. From the moment of its conception, hopes are formed, plans are laid and dreams are dreamt. Henceforth, whatever the circumstances that transpire, no hurt felt is lessened. 

I once worked with a woman who had given birth to three healthy children. She and her husband had been happily married for thirteen years and they loved their children dearly. During their first attempt to have a child as newly weds, there were complications and the child died in the womb. Although she could have had a caesarean, she decided to deliver the infant stillborn and lived out the four remaining months in a process of constant grieving.

In later years, when others eventually learned of her earlier experiences and sought to reassure her with unthinking reference to her three healthy children, she told them that the grief she and her husband experienced for their unborn child was no more or less than if one of her other children were tragically taken from her today. I cannot recall her precise words and to paraphrase them would seem improper, but I remember her expressing the sentiments that she and her husband buried much more than a child that day; they also buried  a part of themselves that could never be replaced however many healthy children she gave birth to thereafter.

For those of you who would like to support the parents of the stillborn, I would ask you to think about 'The Lily Mae Foundation.' This foundation is determined to change public perception of Stillbirth and Neonatal Death and to stop it becoming a taboo subject. Official statistics show that Stillbirth in the UK is ten times more common than cot death. There has also historically been a woeful lack of funding for research into Stillbirth and Neonatal Death.

The death of a baby is like a stone cast into the stillness of a quiet pool; the concentric ripples of despair sweep out in all directions, affecting many, many people for many years thereafter. Sweet little flower of heavenly birth, you were too fair to bloom on earth." William Forde: July 24th, 2015.


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July 23rd, 2015

23/7/2015

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Thought for today:
"When teenagers are tired of travelling down the path that loving parents first mapped out for them, most find ways of rebelling that mum and dad find hard to understand. A generation gap suddenly appears in the pursuit of establishing their own identity as they make their own road to the places and experiences they wish to travel.The farther from the beaten track they travel, the greater often is the concern of the parents.

I recall making my first break with home in 1963. I was 21 years old and emigrating to Canada alone. My father, who was never a man for traditional goodbyes had said his farewell the night earlier before he went to bed. He rarely gave advice so I remember clearly his words of those few occasions when he did. His parting piece of Polonius guidance was, 'Don't forget son, no work is beneath you and whatever you do for a living, do it to the best of your ability.' By the time I'd got up the next day to make ready my departure, he'd already gone in to work his day shift in a local foundry. My mother was the hardest parent to leave and as I departed and looked back, I can still see her crying in the frosted pane of the front window. She cried as though she would never see me again; tears that got mine flowing also.

As I travelled the cold Atlantic that December, for the first time in my life I knew that I was on my own in every respect. Apart from our exchange of letters, I knew that contact between me and my parents would be sparse. It was then that I reconciled in my own mind that a father is his son's first hero and the man his daughter first loves. As to the definition of a mother, she is simply all and more besides!

During my first year away from home I was often homesick. There were times I overestimated my own capabilities or failed to live up to them, and once or twice I fell flat on my face. By and large though, my two years in Canada helped me to grow up a great deal. I was to learn that attaining the age of 21 years doesn't automatically make one a man any more than being the eldest of seven children makes one a natural leader in a new land.

Then, life abroad suddenly took on new meaning when I met Jenny, a lovely girl of seventeen with beautiful long black hair who reminded me of an image of my mother at similar age. Falling in love with Jenny led me to fall in love with Canada and life in general. For a full nine months I was on cloud nine as me and Jenny courted and planned our future together. Despite being the daughter of the then British Trade Commissioner, and me being a lowly hotel desk clerk, Jenny's parents openly accepted me as their daughter's boyfriend and even welcomed a possible engagement between us. They merely expressed their wish that Jenny would complete her University education before getting married.

I still recall the third time I went to their house for tea or so I thought. I still hadn't grown accustomed to evening meals being called 'dinner' and not 'tea.' The occasion was formal and the guests were numerous people of political and commercial distinction. Their house was a large manor in acres of guarded grounds and three servants were always in residence. The hall entrance was larger than the house I'd grown up in and the formal dining table sat thirty people around comfortably. The utensils and crockery was china and silver and the guest of honour that evening was Jean Lesage, the Prime Minister of Quebec between 1960-66. It was not surprising that coming from a large family and having lived most of my life on a council estate, I felt clearly out of place. Noticing my discomfort, Jenny's mother kindly allowed me and Jenny to excuse ourselves from the company immediately after dinner.

While Jenny's parents never once tried to dissuade their daughter from planning her engagement to me, I eventually decided it would be wrong to expect her to dramatically change her standard of life as I could never hope to give her what she'd be leaving behind. So I broke off our relationship and within four months was back home in England. 

Seven years after my return to England, I had become a more mature individual. Never again would I allow myself to feel ill at ease in any manner of company, nor let class or privilege separate me from the woman I loved, the places I wanted to go or the things I wanted to say and do. And yet, I know that at that time in my life when I gave up Jenny, that was the right thing to do.

Leaving home had enabled me to grow into my own man and though I returned to live at the parental abode in Windybank Estate for another three years before I married and finally moved out, things were never quite the same. I had been to Canada and back and I had loved and lost. Canada had changed me. I was a different person!

I found myself in between worlds; not being able to fit in again to either working class life or fully reconcile myself to middle class values and the ways and folk that accompany it. Before going to Canada, I had been a textile foreman. Shortly after my return, I became a mill manager earning half as much again above the average wage, with more on offer. By my marriage at the age of 26 years, I owned a brand new three-bedroomed house in a posh part of upwardly-mobile Mirfield and I seemed to have left my roots behind. 

For over the next four years, I tried to settle down to living 'the good life,' but I remained unsettled.  Then, when I had everything a young married man not yet thirty could want, I threw all my prospects overboard again and after securing enough GCE '0' and 'A' levels at night school at the age of thirty, I obtained a university place at Bath to read History. One month before I was due to go to Bath University, I got offered a one year course at Newcastle University (then a Polytechnic College), to train as a Probation Officer. I decided to seek fame instead of fortune and to do a job that made full use of my real identity, talents, roots and values I grew up with. From that moment, I never once looked back.

A person needs to leave home and be separated from the surround of their family and values before they understand how much both mean to them. If mum and dad are wise, they will not reject their children's right to find themselves and to make their own way in the world. Good parents will stay anchored to the family values that they have always displayed and when youthful travels have shown their children what the world has to offer them, their offspring will have hopefully grown to understand that the real worldly treasure they have always possessed is to be found within themselves and in their own back yard that they grew up in." William Forde: July 23rd, 2015.
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July 23rd, 2015

23/7/2015

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July 22nd, 2015.

23/7/2015

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Thought for today:
"There is no need to miss out on happiness, especially as love is all around you. The earth has music for all who care to listen and the heavens holds dreams for all who care to reach out. So shake hands with Nature and the rest of God's creatures and you will always be at peace with the world around you and the one within." William Forde: July 22nd, 2015.

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July 21st, 2015.

21/7/2015

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Thought for today:
"It was twenty years ago when I went to see Queen Elizabeth at Buckingham Palace to get my MBE. Upon being presented to the Queen, she usually asks the recipient some meaningless question to keep the line moving along smoothly.

While previously, I would not have thought that I'd ever be stuck for words, being in the presence of majesty seems to have a peculiar effect upon a lowly subject of Irish extraction.

As I moved forward at the appointed signal for the Queen to pin on my medal, Her Majesty asked, 'I see that you're an author, Mr Forde; and what kind of books do you write?'

I thought for one moment before replying, as I neither wanted to appear arrogant in self-opinion or overawed by the occasion. Looking straight up towards the Queen (Being a mere five feet nothing she stands on a step approximately two foot higher than the person she looks down upon), I smiled gently and simply said, 'Good ones, Mam. Good ones'

The Beefeater guard who stood behind the Queen armed with his ceremonial spear at the ready (presumably to prevent any assassination attempt upon Her Royal Personage), moved forward a pace. For one moment he seemed to wait in readiness for the royal command, 'We are not amused. Off with his head'  to proceed from the monarch's mouth. 



I was greatly relieved however, to see the queen's mouth gradually soften and opened wider as she smiled broadly at me. As the queen smiled, the Beefeater lowered his spear and moved back one pace. Please note that it wasn't a palpable laugh that came from the Queen's mouth, as monarchs always avoid laughing in a peasant's face in public, but a broad smile it most definitely was..... and I've got the picture and video to prove it! William Forde: July 21st, 2015.

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July 20th, 2015.

21/7/2015

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Thought for today:
"I heard on the radio this morning about the maze of secret tunnels that Winston Churchill had built beneath the Clifffs of Dover during 1940. While this is ground-breaking news, the uncanny thing is that I wrote about such tunnels in my 1990s' book about the Second World War, called 'Butterworth's Brigade.' While I surmised the construction of such secret tunnels by Winston Churchill in my novel of fiction, they in fact turned out to be nearer the truth than the fiction I wrote.

http://www.lulu.com/shop/william-forde/butterworths-brigade/paperback/product-21904998.html


This made me think of other strange constructions which had taken place around England which held their own secrets, but on this occasion, where what had always been thought to be true, wasn't in fact true. I refer to the M62 motorway that runs through the heartland of West Yorkshire.


Imagine the skill and sweat that went into the construction of the M62 motorway through sheer rock to form one of the country's nicest motorways which stretches 107 miles across the Northern England Pennines, connecting Liverpool in the west to Hull in the east via Manchester and Leeds. The motorway, which was first proposed in the 1930s, and conceived as two separate routes, was opened in stages between 1971 and 1976.

Little did the planners at the time envisage the will of the 'little man' to withstand the might of big Government who sought to force change to his way of life, just as Hitler had done in the late 1930s. Along the proposed route of the new motorway, all farm owners and other land owners readliy sold their assets; all that is with the exception of one stubborn Yorkshire farmer who managed 'Stotts Hall Farm', an 18th century homestead that had graced this glorious wild landscape since 1737. This farm and the resistance of its owner to hold out, would daily remind thousands of motorists who passed it on their trans-Pennine travels that an English man's home is his castle and will always remain so. It also stood proudly as a banner, symbolising the of the power of the small individual to resist big Government change by refusing to be driven from their home. Or so I had always been led to believe since it was first built until I recently unearthed a clipping from an old 'Look North' website which recorded an interview with the owner of the farm, Paul Thorpe!

It would seem that the reason the farm was allowed to remain functioning as a going concern and avoid the bulldozer when so many others in the way were consigned to history was more to do with 'the resistance of the surrounding land' and not that of the lowly farmer fighting the forces of powerful Government. In Paul's own words, 'They couldn't build the eastbound carriageway as high as the westbound carriageway. They just kept getting landslips and one thing and another. So they decided to part the motorway and managed to save the building. That's the only reason it's still here.'

Often I find the truth to be less of a story than the myth, don't you? I now wish I'd never discovered this old footage which unearthed these facts, as I much preferred the romantic story I'd grown up with about the lowly farmer fighting the might of Government and winning out! I also wish that Churchill's secret tunnels under the Nation's chalk cliffs of Dover had remained an official secret and hadn't ruined the plot of one of my most popular books for teenagers and adults!


I wonder how many more myths my mind has accepted as facts over the years and how many facts I've accepted that turned out to be myths? Also, were the stories my mother told me since I was knee-high self evident truths or the myths of Irish fokelore, peg-selling gyspies and old wive's tales?" William Forde: July 20th, 2015.







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July 19th, 2015.

19/7/2015

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Thought for today:
"Don't ever doubt that black is beautiful or that simplicity is sophistication at its best." William Forde: July 19th, 2015.
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July 18th, 2015.

18/7/2015

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Thought for today:
"No greater love can one have than to commit one's life to another at their birth and to stay with them through every trial and tribulation, thick and thin. Thus, as a mother's love will never desert her child's needs, however deep their troubles, if she be your role model, then so shall you become." William Forde: July 18th, 2015.
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July 17th, 2015.

17/7/2015

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Thought for today:
"A wise old Catholic priest once told me in the confessional box that there is no point asking for God's forgiveness unless you are prepared to forgive others as well as yourself. I was kindly reminded that God is love and that love is nothing less than an act of endless forgiveness; a tender look which becomes a habit. It was from this discussion I learned that darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate and anger cannot drive out anger; only love can do that.
From the moment of that revelation at an early age of my life, I resolved to change both my outlook and purpose. From that moment forth, life became an adventure in forgiveness, starting with myself.
Previous to this walk along the road to Damascus, I had spent a number of years having been given numerous second chances and never taking them.Then the worst thing that ever happened to me became the best thing, when I was run over by a lorry at the age of eleven and told that I'd never walk again because of my damaged spine.
For the next three years, I could not walk. Paradoxically, as my muscles in my body weakened, my belief in myself and in God strengthened. Spending almost nine months in a hospital bed gave me plenty of time to think upon my many failings, then something strange happened to change my life irretrievably. I started to think upon my many strengths and how I could make them work for me in my future life. In this change of attitude, I discovered that I had started to forgive myself and following that, I even started to love myself again.  

Forgiveness is not always easy. At times, it feels more painful than the wound we first suffered and it can be extremely difficult to forgive the one that inflicted it. And yet, there is no peace without forgiveness; no earthly redemption to be had. I learned that there is some good in the worst of us and some evil in the best of us. When we discover this, we are less prone to hate our enemies and more likely to love ourselves.


When one thinks about it, as Marlene Dietrich once remarked, 'There's no point in burying a hatchet if you’re going to put up a marker on the site.'  When we truly forgive another we confer dignity, but when we forget we merely express contempt. Forgiving is not forgetting. It's letting go of the hurt. To forgive is to change the future and not the past.


Too often before I realised all this, when I erred, my automatic response was to say, 'I'm sorry' in the belief that these few words of apology would be enough. I have learned that sometimes though, saying 'sorry' is not enough. Sometimes we actually have to change to express true regret for past wrongs." William Forde: July 17th, 2015..   https://youtu.be/J2e4NlnLr28
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July 16th, 2015.

16/7/2015

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Thought for today:
"Though dreams be often fanciful to hold and fact cruel to embrace, there are times in life when rewards prove greatest by following your heart instead of your head. Let yourself be silently drawn by the strange pull of what you really love. It will not lead you astray, for beauty rises when the soul satisfies.” William Forde: July 16th, 2015.

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July 15th, 2015.

16/7/2015

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Thought for today:
"Today I go into hospital for my three weekly transfusion of blood. On some visits there is often one familiar face of another ward patient with terminal cancer absent. On such occasions, one's mind naturally spends a few brief moments in consideration of the time when someone notices my future absence, Then, I look to the other side of the ward and see some man or woman who's been having transfusions for up to seven years and determine, 'Why not me also?'


My thoughts occasionally go to our Rough Collie bitch, Lady, who at twelve years of age is older than me in dog years. Lady's slowing down in mobility strangely matches that of my own. It is as though she has decided that it is less scary for each of us if we walk the last path together. I don't know if there is a heaven for dogs, but I'd like to think that there is. If so, is it the same one inhabited by humans? It would comfort me to think that the greatest of all spirits would not seek to separate mankind from his best of friends for the remainder of eternity. 


If however, man and dog do inhabit different heavens, then I wouldn't mind if I went where dogs go. The better I got to know people and the many hurtful things mankind is capable of doing against another, the more I found myself loving dogs. Don't get me wrong, dogs, or any other pet for that matter are not my whole life and should never be more important than any person in it, but their presence has always made my life more complete. I have been hurt from time to time, but must confess that any bite marks left on me came from humans and never dogs. I have no doubt whatsoever that the reason that a dog can leave the house and meet more friends than either you or I before it has passed the first lamp post is because it learned to wag its tail long before it learned to bark.


I guess by now that those of you who don't know me will have guessed that I'm a dog lover and have been so since chilldhood years. Indeed, I love all manner of creature. I also love all types of people too, but must admit that I can find human company too pressing after an hour or two, but never my dog's. Do you know, I can say any foolish thing I like to Lady, our Rough Collie, and all she will do is to give me a look that says, 'Wow, you're right! I never would've thought of that!' 


In the final analysis, seventy two years of life has taught me that women and cats will do as they please; therefore men and dogs should just relax and get used to the idea." William Forde: July 15th, 2015.

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July 14th, 2015

15/7/2015

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Thought for today:
"The moon is a friend to all lovers. It keeps the wolves at bay by allowing mankind to hear their presence. Like the moon we each have a dark side which we keep hidden, but there are three things that man cannot hide: the sun, the moon and the truth. All will out when their time comes.


I await the day when, like the moon, all good men and women will rise up as one force against the world's evil and show their face for all to see. I believe that it is in the simple, yet truthful workings of mankind wherein the salvation of the universe will be found. I believe that though mankind be the cause of all sickness, he also holds the cure for all ailments. 


There is no greater remedy for mankind than to love one another more, for it is only through the expression of love, given freely to one another, can we become the good persons that we were meant to be. It is only through our boundless generosity of spirit and goodwill towards our neighbour can we continue to walk among the stars and wink at the heavens above." William Forde: July 14th, 2015.  

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July 13th, 2015.

13/7/2015

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Thought for today:
"Last week, while holidaying in Ireland, I spent a pleasant day in Cork, which is now firmly established as one of Ireland's cultural centres with its art and book festivals. Being in Cork reminded me of being in love with reading as there is an unrivalled pleasure and beauty in all books.

I first fell in love with girls when I reached eleven, but it would be another seven years before I fell deeply in love with books.

Indeed, between the ages of twenty-six and thirty-six, our marital home had no television, but instead housed a library of 7,000 books that gave me tremendous pride to own. I would buy four or five books a week and finished up possessing more books than Imelda Marcos, the First Lady of the Philippines, had pairs of shoes!

When I was divorced in my thirties, I left the non-mortgaged house and possessions to my first wife and started up again with an empty bank balance and a pocket full of dreams. I moved into an old Victorian cottage with no roof and which required years of renovations to bring up to scratch as a family home.

With money being scarce, I took on a second and third job as well as being a Probation Officer to help pay for child maintenance and other extras when the children came to me on Sunday afternoon access. In spite of working in a coal yard labouring on a Saturday morning and as a bingo caller three evenings per week, in addition to my Probation Officer's occupation, I remained short of required monies, so I decided to sell my only substantial asset. To get additional money I eventually sold all, but a few hundred of my treasured books at a fraction of their true value.

I can still recall seeing my library disappear before my eyes and the deep sadness it brought. At the time, I felt bereft with losing my books and I literally cried to see them go.

While I'd visited libraries in my youth, I started to visit them in earnest in my second marriage once I stopped owning books and began to borrow them again. Borrowing books helped me to break my addiction towards needing to possess them. I realised that I could still benefit from reading books even when they weren't mine and that the knowledge gained from reading a book from the public library as opposed to from my private book shelf was no less! It was from this awareness at the late age of forty that I accepted that any possession that causes grief and emotional upset to be without had no place in my home.

I soon came to view the public library as 'thought in cold storage,' an array of escapades and adventures I'd often dreamt about having, but which had so far escaped me. It was in the library where the birth of an idea came that was to change my life. I started to imagine that one day I would write my own book. I had always believed that we all have a book in us.

Another ten years was to pass before I put pen to paper and wrote my first book, then a second. The manuscripts were then placed in the bottom drawer and forgotten about and I made no attempt to get these adult novels published until recently. 'Rebecca's Revenge' was published six months ago and 'Come Back Peter' is due for publication next month. Please note that both these books are strictly adult reading only.

As the years passed, I eventually found myself promoting public awareness of numerous causes affecting society such as homelessness and increased disability etc. The ones that really concerned me however, were those that adults find hard to cope with, but children invariably find overwhelming, like the bereavement of a family member, pet or friend and the emotional turmoil of acute loss, along with bullying and name calling by their peers.

I found that I was better able to access child feelings if I placed them in story characters, so I started to write stories for children. My work in this field mushroomed and brought me to the attention of Royalty, Presidents, Prime Ministers, Film stars, Actors, Authors and all manner of celebrity and famous names. Between 1990 and 2005, my books for children numbered dozens and had been publically read in approaching two thousand Yorkshire schools by famous people. The profits from their sales of £200,000 was given in entirety to charitable causes, as they are today and will be in perpetuity.

Since 1990, I have had sixty-four books published and some have even been praised by the late Princess Dianna and Nelson Mandela, along with the Chief Inspector of Schools for Ofsted, Chris Woodhead, who recently died. Mr Mandela phoned me and described my African stories as being 'wonderful.' Princess Diana also contacted me and requested that I send her two of my books, which she could read, to the young princes William and Harry, then aged 9 and 7 years. Chris Woodhead gave a press interview to the Guardian newspaper and described my writing as 'high quality literature.' Between 1990 and 2002, over 850 famous names had publically read from my books to school assemblies.

Neil Richard MacKinnon Gaiman, an English novelist who shares my birthday with me on the 10th of November once said that libraries are the thin red line between civilisation and barbarism. Libraries have played an important part in my life and it saddens me to see so many of them closed year upon year. I say that the Government should reverse this insane policy. They should be taking bonuses from bankers; not library books from children!" William Forde: July 13th, 2015.

 

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July 12th, 2015.

12/7/2015

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Thought for today:
"The capacity to continue living positively for some people never ceases to amaze me however old I get. I see children with fatal illnesses working their little socks off for charitable causes as they move closer to God. I read about patients who have had heart transplants doing marathons for hospices only months after their operations to help put something back. I hear of poor people who don't have two pennies to rub together, giving half of the one penny they do have to someone poorer than themselves or some worthy cause. I hear of magnificent feats of bravery daily carried out by firemen and firewomen as they enter burning buildings to rescue the trapped and put their lives on the line by doing so. I see men and women whose hearts have been broken by another, invest their love and trust once more, in the knowledge that they could experience the same emotional turmoil again, but in the hope they won't. I see soldiers returning from war with horrific injuries and the absence of limbs who go on to make the best out of what they are mercifully left with as they get on with their lives. 



Such are the individuals who truly deserve the medals of honour and distinction when such accolades are being dished out annually; not the celebrities who receive a massive monetary reward for plying their trade, the civil servants with their £50,000 per year pensions, the Chief Executives of large business corporations, the high-rolling party-political donators or the banking bosses. Society should honour those people who truly make Britain great, not greedy!" William Forde: July 12th, 2015.

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July 11th, 2015

11/7/2015

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Thought for Today:
"Irish hospitality will never be found wanting and all my countrymen have looked after us this past week. The Irish person knows the importance of 'me and you.' They know that sheep represent much more than the wool on one's back and lamb chops on the plate.

Back to Haworth today from my week's holiday in Ireland, the land of my birth. It has been most enjoyable; indeed spiritually uplifting to have made contact with my roots once more. It was lovely to see old friends, along with meeting a number of my new Facebook contacts from Portlaw and Waterford. Even Maggie, the publican from the 'Cotton Mill', opened her doors five hours early to facilitate me meeting folk and provided all refreshments free of charge to all attendees.

I have had a number of 'firsts' in my life and I once stopped the traffic in Huddersfield when Anita Roddick and I marched 1,000 disabled children through town, but to have any pub in the land open its doors before time is a 'first' for me that is nothing short of a miracle.

One thing about the Irish is that they certainly know how to look after their own. The press and the radio always mark my return back to Portlaw with an interview and a newspaper article. 

I recall one visit back home during May, 1998. The international legend and singing star, Frank Sunatra, had died that same week. I was therefore flabbergasted to see old blue eyes' orbituary in the bottom right hand corner of the front page of the Munster Express, while covering the remainder of the front page was headlined, 'Author and local boy from Portlaw, Bill Forde, returns home today'. The Irish certainly do look after their own first!

While I love Ireland in a way that England will never be loved, I love Haworth to bits and my beautiful wife and dog, Lady and our quaint home there.
So while Haworth will always remain in my heart, Portlaw will always stay the very heart of my soul and being." William Forde, July 11th, 2015
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July 10th, 2015.

10/7/2015

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Thought For Today:
"It is our last day in Ireland today as we sail home tomorrow. Our final day will be spent visiting a Facebook friend Danielle in Carlow and later, my cousin John Brennan and his wife Kaye in Kilkenny.
It is fitting that the last Irish contact I shall meet is John Brennan as the Brennan family were a major part of my father’s early life.
My father came from the poorest of large Irish families and in his early teens, he was effectively brought up by my cousin John’s parents, Ann and Mickey Brennan, who took him under their roof.
After my father’s footballing career ended (then an unpaid activity, even at international level), he came to England to find work down the mines and establish a home to bring his wife and first three children across to.
During our early years living in England in the late 1940s, we Irish were discriminated against until we had settled into English ways. In the late 50s and 60s, the discrimination then changed towards the West Indian immigrant and by the 70s, those of Pakistani origin. Today, we discriminate against all manner of other social groups and nationalities.
Then from the mid 90s, the Northern Riots between black and white citizens broke out and racialism between both groups spread from Rochdale to Bradford at a ferocious and alarming rate.
The Northern Riots emotionally moved me so much that I wanted to capture the spirit of it in book form. I also wanted my own opportunity to put the record straight as my personal experience had shown me that it wasn't a 'one way street'. I wanted to portray the discrimination that was practised by white towards black, by black towards white, by black towards black and by white towards white in all countries, and particularly Ireland, Jamaica and Northern England. I decided to write a trilogy of books called ‘The Kilkenny Cat’; the sales of which were used to provide vital basic educational materials for the 32 schools in the old slave capital of Falmouth, Jamaica.
I decided to make all characters (with the exception of two) in this allegorical trilogy, a group of travelling cats through Ireland, Jamaica and Northern England. The travelling cats face discrimination wherever they go. The only two characters in the books, which aren’t cats, were Ann and Mickey Brennan, who adopted an abandoned kitten after its mother had died; very much as the real Ann and Mickey Brennan had adopted my father in his youth.
The Kilkenny Cat Trilogy took five years to research and write and is ‘a must’ for any adult cat lover or person concerned with any form of discrimination. It is available in E-book format from www.smashwords.com or in hard copy from Amazon or www.lulu.com. All profits from book sales will be given to charity as have been all my 64 published books since 1990 (over £200,000).
So you see, the Brennan's are in many ways largely responsible for me being born in the first place by helping to rear my father, and it is fitting that John Brennan should be the last person in my family tree that I see on Irish soil."
William Forde, July 10th 2015
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July 10th, 2015

10/7/2015

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July 9th, 2015.

9/7/2015

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Thought for today:
We end our Irish holiday spending the last three days in Kilkenny, my late father's birthplace. My father used to play soccer for Kilkenny and then progressed to play internationally for his country. 


Often, in my courting days, my mother would joke and warn me, 'Billy, beware of kissing anyone from Kilkenny if you don't want to end up being married before your time.' 


This memory led me to compose a short poem for today's post, which deals with a love triangle, which centres upon the dilemma that one girl feels when her two best friends fall in love with the same man while the love of her life dare not speak its name.

'Kilkenny Kisses' : Copyright by William Forde: July, 2015.


'Three spring lovelies did four hearts break 
when two sought love with the same male mate, 
and the third realised that fate had blown
away the only love she'd ever known.'



Copyright William Forde: July 9th, 2015.
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