Blog Archives - FordeFables

August 31st, 2016.

31/8/2016

Thought for today:
"Whatever I am, for either good or bad, of one thing I know with certainty; I am me and being so, makes me different to everyone else. Being different can be a very liberating thing and when we lose the right to be different, we lose the privilege to be free. Being different isn't wrong in itself, as it merely represents what is. What is wrong is when we try to emphasise our differences to another for the sake of our own vanity or for the purpose of putting them down and trying to make them feel inferior while attempting to make ourselves look superior.

We all boil at different degrees, so, if you want to stand out, don't be different, be outstanding! Always be yourself at its best, because originality is no more than a reflection of your deepest sincerity. There will be times when it is wise to go along with the crowd, especially if the crowd is heading in the right direction, but it is most unwise to ever let another think your thoughts for you, speak your words, govern your actions, dream your dreams or live your life.

We ride the crest of the waves to personal success when we employ the positive energy of our own unique spirit. Only dead fish swim with the stream of negative thought! Only when we learn to recognise the uniqueness of our person, may we feel confident enough to lay ourselves open and not be afraid to place our honest feelings and dealings with all others above board for public scrutiny.

My advice, after you have made friends with yourself, is to make your peace with family, friends, neighbours and all creatures that surround you. Remember the words of Martin Luther King Jr when he reminded us that together we swim and divided we sink into gradual depravity. We may have all come to the place we are at on different ships, but we're in the same boat now and we sink or swim together. William Forde: August 31st, 2016.

August 30th, 2016.

30/8/2016

Thought for today:
"One is never too young to learn respect for all of God's creatures, the planet, one's fellow man and one's self; for within one's respect lies the spirituality of one's purpose. We cannot give our respect to others unless we first hold it for ourselves. As my mother often said as she reprimanded me for slouching, 'Billy, if you carry yourself like a King, you’ll get your Queen, but carry yourself as a hoe, and a rake is all you'll ever hold in your hands!'

Respect is that intangible thing one instantly recognises by its absence or presence. It should never be bestowed with profit in mind. Like discerning Facebook contacts, we should not 'like' just to 'be liked' in return. When we bestow respect on another, it should be given freely with no thought of return. Respect knows no boundary. Your respect for another will stretch only as far as the degree of respect you hold for yourself; it acknowledges no race superior to that of another, it does not distinguish unfavourably between man, woman or child, rich or poor, black or white, famous or unknown. We owe all others no less respect than we owe ourselves, and it remains beholding on us to pay all dues.

There are many things in life that seem so easy to respect at the passing out parade; the bravery of soldiers fighting for one's country, that special relationship between a mother and child as mum gives that extra push to give her offspring a start in life, a person struggling and working every hour God sends them to make ends meet and to put food on the family table and clothes on their children's backs, a double amputee with artificial arms and legs fighting to regain mobility, etc. etc.

But what about the cause that conceals its deserved respect beneath a cover of conspicuous circumstances which look unappealing? I never meet a ragged tramp in the street without feeling that I might owe him my salute, for I know not what possibilities may be buttoned up beneath his coat as he bravely soldiers on one day to the next in his war on want. Just because he's on the streets today, doesn't tell us where he walked one year ago. He might have worn the Queen's uniform and fought for the freedom of other people in Afghanistan or Iraq! Who knows what others keep buttoned up that is deserving of our respect?" William Forde: August 30th, 2016.

August 29th, 2016.

29/8/2016

Thought for today:
"There is nothing quite like standing in the face of the wind to blow away the cobwebs of past worries.

Soon, the last trace of summer season will have departed, to be slowly replaced by the lifting air of autumn intoxication, with wild winds scattering fallen leaves like hands of nature upon the ground, that rustle lightly in soft applause beneath fine foot and squelch in childlike delight on muddy ground when trampled on.

Only gusting winds on high cliff tops reveal the closeness between the earth beneath and the sky above; between this life and the next. A leap of faith is all that awaits us, to find the purpose of our existence.

The answer my friend is blowing in the wind, the answer is blowing in the wind." William Forde: August 29th, 2016.
https://youtu.be/vWwgrjjIMXA

August 28th, 2016.

28/8/2016

Thought for today:
"I recently discovered that two face book friends of mine, Ann and Tom Rhodes of Cleckheaton have been married 49 years and will be celebrating their Golden Wedding anniversary on December 17th, next. Tom has a terminal illness like me and has spent the past two years defying the doctors by hanging around when they tell him he should be gone by now. It is my dearest wish that Ann and Tom get to celebrate their Golden Wedding Anniversary together and if any of you out there would like to remember this landmark of theirs, it would please me immensely if you make a mental note of this date in advance, so that you might congratulate the golden couple on their special day.

In times when the marriage contract often starts to fade before the ink has dried, how marvellous an example such a happily married couple like Ann and Tom are. Such loyalty, devotion and dedication towards each other is both rare and enviably.

Like many a married person who has loved and married more than once, I also wanted it to be 'forever' when I married, but it wasn't to be so. So I tried a second time, and that marriage, although happy for the most part of its 28 years, still ended before my heart had given up on it. Twice married and twice divorced to two women who no longer wished to remain married, I withdrew from the marital stakes and determined to grow old, a man of single status.

Then, one November day in 2010, I visited Haworth and took a stroll up Main Street. Having being a published author since 1989, loving literature all my life and being an ardent reader of history, visiting the village of the famous Bronte sisters seemed the perfect way for a man of romantic inclination to leisurely spend the afternoon. As I walked up the cobbled street seeped in history, the women that passed down it seemed to get prettier each time one passed by and looked my way. Then, I saw her. She was sitting alone at a corner table in a restaurant called Gascoignes at the top of Main Street. Without giving my next move a second thought, I found my old legs walking inside Gascoignes and taking up the chair next to the black-haired maiden.

I wasn't aware of it at that precise moment, but having stopped looking for love, I had found it once more, in the corner of a Haworth cafe.

I knew the first moment I saw Haworth that it was heaven on earth. I knew when I first saw Sheila that she was different to other women, even though I wasn't quite sure at the time that she was the woman for me. Since the moment I first left her that afternoon, my legs and heart longed to return to Haworth for a second glance, and since that second glance, my eyes have been fixated. It was nothing tangible that I could touch and say, 'That's it! That's the love I seek,' but more a feeling that told me that all I now saw would be all I ever wanted.

Sheila, I waited for your next spoken word before the sound of your last had left my ears. When you touched my mind, you left an impression to remind me in future years why I fell in love with you. But, it was only when you touched my heart, I knew that I would never forget you. Only through loving you, have I learned what really matters in my life. Indeed, it is only through your love that I can sometimes know a happy selfishness; that nothing else matters except you, me, our dog Lady and Haworth.

I know that we came to each other late in life and can never hope to make the marital milestones of fifty, nay twenty-five years as man and wife; probably not even ten. It would be wonderful were my health to allow us to reach the ten-year milestone and I know that whilst we may not always see eye to eye on all things small in life, as far as those bigger and more significant issues go, we will always be of one mind and heart. It was you who taught me that once two people share the same spiritual dimension, their minds, hearts and souls are forever mated.

The world would be an uglier place without Haworth and my world would be much uglier without you, Sheila. My love for you is infinite, Sheila Forde; nothing else is worth searching for, and all else is a mere illusion of a cobbled dream." William Forde: August 28th, 2016.

August 27th, 2016.

27/8/2016

Thought for today:
"As far as my memory can stretch back, I have always loved trees. Trees to me are God's sentries placed on earth to show the way to heaven. Like mankind, they thrive on light and grow more magnificent in nourishing soil when they receive daily confirmation that they are truly loved. Like every growing child, pat it regularly and never keep it short of hugs and it will grow ever stronger. Indeed, caressing and hugging arms are the homeland of trees.

My love of trees started when I was laid up in the side room of Batley Hospital as an 11-year-old boy, having had a serious traffic accident and wasn't expected to live. All I could see as I drifted in and out of consciousness was an oak tree in the grounds outside my window. When I eventually managed to survive, the very first thing I saw upon opening my eyes was the oak tree outside, moving in the wind. I cannot tell you how good I felt to see that tree swaying in the wind; how good I felt to wake up, alive. From that moment on, trees have always been synonymous with the oxygen of life and I have always needed them in mine to feel fulfilled.

After leaving hospital after nine months with a spinal injury that left all feeling beneath my waist lacking, I was told by the doctors that I'd never walk again.Three years later, my walking mobility was restored and during my time away from school, I would frequently walk to a place called Bluebell Wood, about two miles from Windybank Estate where I lived. I frequently walked the two miles to keep an appointment with my oak tree. Those walks were ever so slow, but ever so precious to me. Getting better and resuming a more normal life after my accident, took lots of patience and self belief. My walking gate was never again upright, as I now had one leg a few inches shorter than the other and occasionally I might stumble as I walked across the fields of Green Lane towards Bluebell Wood. It was at such times that I reflected that a tree falls the way it leans as I tried to walk more upright.

As I approached Bluebell Wood, my heart beat quickened with excitement. I knew that I could never walk through the wood without beautiful thoughts of Nature's wonderment descending on me and I also knew that one hour later, I would feel totally relaxed. When I reached Bluebell Wood, I would make my way towards its centre, where stood a magnificent oak tree. Upon reaching my favourite spot I would lie down at the base of the tree in the lush expanse of grass that surrounded its trunk, close my eyes and relax. During my three years of being unable to walk, I had learned to access the power of my imagination and had become a disciple of meditation, learning to totally relax.

Looking up through the branches above, I could see the sunlight percolating its way back down towards my hands and face below and pleasurably warming me. Listening to the silence and noises of the wood, I could hear birds and other woodland creatures far clearer than I'd ever heard them. I could hear the ripple of a nearby stream, slowly meandering its way across the small stones and boulder which blocked its path. I allowed my body to sink into the ground beneath me and to become one with the earth as I relaxed and gradually drifted off to sleep.

Over the years that followed, I became one of the country's noted Relaxation Trainers. In my 30s, I had a health scare when I was admitted into hospital for a week to undergo cancer tests. It was then that I realised that if I died, I would not have left on record, my knowledge of Relaxation Training. Upon leaving hospital, I spent a few thousand pounds and two weeks in a recording studio to make a special Relaxation tape to help people establish a good sleeping practice. For the imagery of that tape, I drew heavily upon trees and especially my earlier experiences relaxing in Bluebell Wood as a young boy. Anyone wishing to access that tape can do so freely by following the link, but please understand that the tape recording is now forty years old when comparing the quality with recordings made today:
http://www.fordefables.co.uk/relax-with-bill.html

Roots, family trees and Nature are one and the same to me. To me, I could cry when I read about the wanton destruction of the rain forest, our natural medicine chest, and I frequently wonder that were we to see trees bleed and hear them scream as they were being cut down, would we be so cavalier in felling them for furniture and land clearance? In this age where often people have no sense of belonging, trees help us keep us grounded, and in touch with our family roots and who we are. They remind us that we are all fashioned from the same wood, grown by the same woodsman. Unless we hold on firmly to our roots, how can we ever know that we are anymore but dreams? A history of family is the best means of assessing ourselves and it pays to remember that whatever else changes, we start and end with family.

I will take with me to my grave, my love of family, my love of history and my love of trees, and if there be a heaven where I am fortunate to go, I pray God that it is the greenest of places where I can rest beneath an oak tree. I give you a few lines from a poem by one of my favourite writers, William Wordsworth, 'The Tables Turned.'

'One impulse from a vernal wood
May teach you more of man,
Of moral evil and of good,
Than all the ages can.'

Growing up, my mother frequently reminded me when I was prone to hit out, 'Billy, it is wrong to hit out, but okay to hit back.' When I think of some car accidents, I must admit that I never heard of a tree hitting any car, except in defence, did you?' " William Forde: August 27th, 2016.

August 26th, 2016.

26/8/2016

Thought for today:
For every man and woman who has ever lived, there is a charm about the forbidden that makes the unspeakable highly desirable. And yet, we are brought up knowing that to indulge one's every feeling is the quickest way to lose touch with all that is good and wholesome.

Mankind, by the frailty of his very nature, is gluttonous to desire and weak to temptation. If there are two temptations before him, he will invariably chose the one he hasn't tried before, believing that chance may not come around twice.

Where temptation is concerned, there is little difference between the sexes. While Eve was the first to eat the apple, who says that Adam would not have succumbed, had he been the one first tempted. In my experience, when women go wrong, men are never too far behind their reasoning and can usually be found lurking in the background. There is no greater temptation for any good man than to find himself in bed with a bad woman or any worst prospect for a good woman than to find herself wed to a bad man whom she cannot change!

As my mum used to say, 'Billy, what you don't know can't tempt you, but whatever you do, keep away from those Heckmondwike girls. They'll be the death of you.' Like many a foolish young man who disregarded his mother's advice and opted to do the opposite, I had to go and marry a Heckmondwike helicopter (a wife who constantly hovers and never lets you from her sight once she has parked you on her pad), before truly recognising mum's wisdom.

And while there is more evil to be found in the least of sins than the greatest of afflictions, my biggest temptation today lies in eating too much of my beautiful wife Sheila's scrumptious apple pies. Isn't it strange that it takes a kitchen Goddess to bring out the devil in a good man?" William Forde: August 26th, 2016.

August 25th, 2016

25/8/2016

Thought for today:
"If you truly love nature, you truly love God. In the world of Nature, you will find beauty everywhere there is life; all you have to do is look. Experience an early morning stroll through woodlands, across fields and down country lanes and savour this experience as your first blessing of the day. Every plant, creature, bird, tree, stream, hedgerow and blade of grass you pass contains life of the Creation. You can go into the woods in spring, summer, autumn and winter and have your imagination run wild or be soothed and healed by the naturalness of your surroundings and have all your senses restored to order. All of this can be yours, simply for the taking. Would that I could take it still; far far better to experience Nature and become a living part of it than to write about it.

There is nothing more romantic to the soul than to be in love with the green earth and to delight in the cosmos of colours and the fragrant splendour that intoxicates nostrils and embraces feelings of wonderment. Nothing stirs the senses as much as the passing of the seasons; the living of Nature's year. It is so natural to love nature, for when you love nature, you naturally love self and are one with God." William Forde: August 25th, 2016.

August 24th, 2016.

24/8/2016

Thought for today:
"We seem to be living in a world where governments care more about international commerce and business concerns than with the stability of nature and maintenance of the eco-system. The government has recently approved an application to use bee-killing neonicotinoid pesticides on British fields, but the lack of transparency around the decision has angered campaigners and over 500,000 have signed a petition objecting strongly to this short-sighted policy. 'Bee warned', this is nothing less than madness!

All manner of insects fascinate me; particularly how so small a creature can have so big an impact on the quality of my life.

Often I've been asked what purpose do wasps serve, especially after having been stung by one? In early summer, wasps, like bees, pollinate plants and flowers as they feed on nectar. If we were to eradicate all wasps, it would cause more problems than it would solve. So, wasps do serve a purpose, and despite being a problem at certain times of the year, they are a highly beneficial insect. In the natural world, wasps, although irritating to humans, have their role to play in our continued well-being.

The daily presence of wasps carries much more than a sting in their tail. They act as a remainder to all of us that we each have our role to play within the larger picture. What is your role in this life? What role do you play within your family, your neighbourhood, within your workplace or with your friends? Is it one of loving partner, benevolent neighbour, best friend, reliable colleague or purposeful irritant?

Sometimes I have thought it might be nice to be a fly on the wall and listen to what others truly think of us? On the other hand, forget that notion. I'd sooner smell the fragrance of the bloom from a safe distance than get up too close and risk getting stung on the nose with too much truth!" William Forde: August 24th, 2016.

August 23rd, 2016

23/8/2016

Thought for today:
"One knows nothing of true embrace until one has hugged their pet after a long absence. Until one has loved an animal as endearingly as any human, one's heart has not been fully opened or one's soul truly awakened. Hugs are the universal language of love embraced by all animal lovers and lovers of mankind.

Preparing for the final absence of a pet is very hard to bear and it makes every day they continue to be around one more special day to treasure. I once knew an elderly man called Charlie from Brighouse. Charlie was a vagrant and had little money to spare and existed from week to week on social security benefits. However little money he had though, and however hungry he got from time to time, he never failed to feed his beloved dog. As far as Charlie was concerned, his dog came first in all considerations. His dog was one of those extremely small breeds, and although it was the mongrel product of a street romance between 'The lady and the tramp,' it was always at Charlie's side. More often than not, particularly in wet or cold weather, one would approach Charlie in the street before seeing his small dog, snuggled inside his overcoat collar.

The death of Charlie's dog was the talk of the town when it eventually happened. Initially, after the dog had died from old age, Charlie entered a stage of denial and refused to accept his pet had passed away. Indeed, poor Charlie seemed to lose it after the death of his pet and refused to dispose of its body. He still filled its eating bowl and during his first week of bereavement, he still walked it, carrying its corpse inside his overcoat. Charlie had to be eventually committed to the old Storthes Hall Psychiatric Hospital in Huddersfield and received ECT shock treatment. My late mother was a patient at Storthes Hall Hospital at the time; herself having incurred a nervous breakdown. After mum had returned home, I never heard of Charlie again.

Sadly, our Rough Collie, 'Lady' is now entering her final stages of life and it is impossible not to note the gradual changes in her overall appearance, daily functioning and general behaviour. Where her coat was once thick, it is now much thinned and covers a corresponding loss of weight. She walks more slowly and for less distance, and now spends most of her day curled up on the rug, sleeping. One can feel the pain in her stride and the uncertainty as she tries to negotiate a few steps. She has even lost her bounce and bark upon her first greeting of the day and no longer runs to fetch the thrown ball, but instead stares at it like a cat might, as she thinks, 'You're the one who threw it; you fetch it!'

No longer has she the stamina to walk the moors each morning with Sheila as she approaches the winter of her life. She returns from her morning outing shattered. It is very sad to see her tail become thinner; it reminds me of the lowering of one's flag. She still possesses those sad eyes that all pets and partners seem capable of displaying, whenever they want something, and she has most certainly become more clingy to Sheila and follows her faithfully all day long, like a shadow who might disappear when the sun goes down. The one thing she remains constant of, is her need for a hug. Like all humans, dogs never grow too old to appreciate a cuddle.

I believe that all dogs were created by God to keep mankind more alive. When Lady dies, I know that both me and Sheila will find the loss hard. We will hopefully find consolation in each others loving arms and also in the thought that there is no death, only a change of worlds where new coats grow ever more splendidly." William Forde: August 23rd, 2016.

August 22nd, 2016.

22/8/2016

Thought for today:
"One of life's greatest fears for many today, is growing old alone and having nobody by their deathbed or at their funeral service when the time comes to depart this life. I was reading recently that there are thousands of old people, secreted away in their own little flats, and who sometimes go up to two months without seeing anybody to talk to.The same newspaper article also indicated that many old people, both residents of their own flat/house or an Old Folk's Home, rarely receive visits from their sons and daughters.

All of this just appears to give credence to the notion that people are too busy with their own lives to either notice or care about the lives of others, even their own family, friends and neighbours. At 20 we worry what others think of us, at 40 we don't care and it is only when we hit 75 and over that we learn that they don't think of us at all!

On the other hand, I also know of a number of very independent individuals, whom despite being elderly and living alone, actually like their own company and their way of life; although I'd have to admit that it is much fewer in number than those who crave company. Being a person who has always visited some elderly person who lives alone for most of my life, I recall George, an 86 year old widower who lived next door but one to me in Mirfield. Until he was well into his 85th year, George could be seen walking to the Coop every day to get his shopping. He was an immensely proud and independent man who would never allow anyone to do for him, anything he could do himself. He always refused offers to have someone else carry his shopping bag when filled, and instantly refused 'meals on wheels' when I once suggested the service to him. Even though I made a point of knocking on his door daily to check he was okay, until his 86th year, and then, only after he'd had a stroke, would he allow me inside his home.

For most of his older years, George shunned offers of help from younger neighbours; like one would a wet blanket on one's bed. He once got very annoyed with me after I offered to do something for him and said, 'I'm not losing my marbles, you know. Let me tell you, Mr Forde, if I burn down the house or stab a neighbour, it won't be because I'm going senile; it will be because I mean it!' In essence George had discovered that the secret of contented old age was to make peace with solitude and to be happy with one's own company.

When George entered his 86th year, he sadly started to go senile and it was when he started to lose his wits that he allowed me to enter his house and help him. Within a year, George was admitted into an Old Folk's Home and three months after admission, he died. I only managed to see him twice in his Old Folk's Home, and in truth, he never knew I had visited, but it made me feel better for going.

After George died, I read somewhere about another old man who had visited his wife as regular as clockwork after she'd been taken into an Old Folk's Home, despite it taking up most of his afternoon in preparing for the visit, bringing her some of her favourite chocolates and travelling there and back. His 86 year old wife had dementia and had been in her Nursing Home for 14 years. The couple had been married for sixty two years, yet each time he visited her in the home, she failed to recognise him and would even speak to him occasionally as though he was her brother or another person.When asked why he still visited a woman who'd lost her memory and had long since forgotten who he was, he replied, 'Because I haven't forgotten who she was or what she means to me!'

Being in love with the same partner for over sixty years must be one of the most wonderful experiences a couple could ever know. If I was ever able to play God, I would arrange for each couple who have loved a lifetime, to die within seconds of each other, and never to feel the pangs of separation of spousal loss.

I will end upon a thought which has always amused me and which I suspect holds the secret of how one lives their life. I have often wondered how old I would be if I didn't know how old I was?" William Forde: August 22nd, 2016.

August 21st, 2016.

21/8/2016

Thought for today:
"My couple of years in Canada and America during my early twenties taught me that most Americans are naturally inclined to exaggerate their own sense of history and scale of importance in the grand scale of things. They never seem happy unless they can boast that theirs is bigger, better and gives more bang to the buck than anyone else's, whatever they are evaluating.

I have always admired the Americans for their confidence to succeed as a nation, along with the respect they give to their flag by being prepared to fly it from their porch, as well as the daily pledge in their schools and colleges.They most certainly are a tenacious race as is demonstrated by their 'get up and go spirit', especially when the chips were down.

If they have one major flaw as a nation however, it is not being able to hold a true sense of historical perspective. We see this most clearly when we examine their 'Bill of Rights' (which is essentially a collective name for the first ten amendments to the United States Constitution). The amendment which highlights the constitution's greatest flaw today, over 200 years since it was brought into being, is their Second Amendment; the right for American citizens to bear arms.

Few would argue about the reasoning behind this amendment a few centuries ago, when a well regulated Militia was seen as being necessary to guaranteeing the security of a free State, but today? Surely such an amendment is not only unnecessary, but is harmful, and results in the loss of too many lives!

Nobody in their true mind could possibly argue that when Thomas Jefferson drafted The United States Declaration of Independence in July, 1776, giving American citizens the right to bear arms under the Second Amendment of the United States Constitution, that 240 years later, it would still be viewed as a vital clause of their constitution, would they? Nobody apart from the overwhelming majority of American citizens themselves it seems, who just don't feel safe enough in their own homes without a pistol, a double-barrelled shot gun, and just in case that jams, a Russian Kalashnikov semi-automatic rifle which is capable of decimating the City of Denver in ten minutes flat!

The nearest analogy I can think of, is a baby who refuses to give up the most comforting of their possessions, even when they are approaching old age; their dummy, I'm afraid that the problem of imposing gun control on a Nation whose instinctive desire is never to be controlled, is threefold:

First, there is the vast amount of money that is generated through the sales of guns in the American economy. The amount is so huge today that the 'Gun Lobby' in American politics, along with the 'Tobacco Lobby,' have been the two greatest funders of political parties in the U.S.A. over the past century; and in the U.S.A., nothing speaks as loud as money!

Secondly, there are some truly historical nuts who believe that like the Laws of Moses, their constitutional amendments shouldn't be changed in accordance with the times.

Thirdly, the right to bear arms for the United State's citizen today, is essentially the right not to give up the comfort blanket which they genuinely believe has protected them since their birth, and shall continue to protect them from cradle to grave.

I refuse to believe that the United States would see more killings on its streets were the Second Amendment no longer considered necessary and gun control established. Were gun control to be brought in, I believe that not only would it result in fewer killings, but that the American citizen might be afforded the real opportunity of recognising the long term harm they are imposing upon their children. It cannot be natural for a child to grow up with guns in their house! There is no doubt that in some circumstances, the possession of a firearm may save lives and can protect and offer reassurance to the holder, but their prime purpose was, is and ever shall be, to kill!

Having a proper sense of perspective regarding all things is crucially important. It enables us to see the way things truly are; not how they have always been or we would like them to be. People who lack such perspective when dealing with the world will undoubtedly lack it when dealing with self. " William Forde: August 21st, 2016.

August 20th, 2016.

20/8/2016

Thought for today:
"My most favourite lines in Shakespeare are spoken by Polonius to his son, Laertes, in Hamlet, Act 1, Scene 3, Lines 78-82:
'This above all: to thine own self be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.
Farewell, my blessing season this in thee!'

There is a greeting in the land of my birth which every Irish person knows from childhood and practises on home ground until the day they die. Upon passing someone in the street who any Irish person knows, they are greeted with the words, 'Good morning, it's yourself!' When I first heard this greeting as a child, at first I thought, 'Of course it is!' before it eventually dawned on me many years later, that it served a dual purpose. I learned that it was a way of daily greeting as well as paying the other person the finest of compliments.

Ask any person what it is they like most about their best friend and as they reel off their better qualities, high on their list will be that of 'genuineness' and 'authenticity.' It is no great surprise therefore, that one of our most common sayings is, 'I am what you see and what you see is what you get.' Indeed, one of the most popular television advertisements of the past ten years is the one with greatest appeal that says, 'It does what it says on the tin!'

Likewise, some special places are no different. There is a natural rock formation in Iceland, which upon seeing for the first time, a child could accurately guess its name and a person suffering from dementia could easily remember what it's called. It is called 'Elephant Rock.' Once seen, like its namesake, it is never forgotten!

So why not try to be an 'Elephant Rock' in the lives of all your family, neighbours and friends, just by being the good person you naturally are? It's one sure way of being remembered years after you have occupied the other side of the green sod; one certain way of becoming an everlasting landmark in the lives and recall of others, never to be forgotten." William Forde: August 20th, 2016.

August 19th, 2016.

19/8/2016

Thought for today:
"As a general rule, we would all probably benefit, if we thought a little more before converting our thoughts to actions. Before we start blaming others for our problems, it often helps to stop and think first about who created them, as the architect is not always the one left holding the ruler and pencil.

I have spent a great part of my life and brain power problem solving; whether it be as an individual who's often messed up, a counsellor working with troubled clients or an author plotting a story.

When I am part way through writing a novel, even though I may not then know how it ends, I trust that if I apply sufficient and sustained thought to the task at hand, suitable options will start to emerge. Indeed, having the ability to steer the thoughts of another reader in a direction that suits your purpose, is an art accomplished by all good teachers, artists or authors. After all, each person is no more or less a product of their thoughts, for what they think and how they think it, determines in large measure the deeds they enact and the person they become.Think kindly and you are more than likely to act kindly; think rubbish and you'll probably talk rubbish!

I once knew of another Probation Officer many years ago called Stephen. Stephen's pastime was whittling wood into all manner of shapes with the aid of a sharp penknife. He said that it used to help him think about what was really important to him in life. Stephen, who was highly popular with all of the office staff, could always be relied upon to be the life and soul of any office party. He was always very considerate in his mannerisms and was liked by all.

One never saw him in the office without a piece of wood in his hand and a whittling penknife. Little did his colleagues know that the reason he whittled wood all day long, was because he always had a lot on his mind to think about. Instead of being the happy-go-lucky carefree person we all thought him to be, Stephen's life at home left much to be desired.

Stephen displayed one trait however, that his colleagues didn't understand, and that was his outright refusal to stay behind when 5.30 pm arrived each working day. You see, being a Probation Officer essentially involves going home when the day's work was done and not before; much like a surgeon refusing to leave his patients guts hanging out in the operating theatre, just because home time has arrived. Sometimes it would be 6.00 pm, sometimes 7.00 pm and occasionally 8.00 pm. Unless it was Christmas Eve, only the clerical workers knocked off at 5.30 pm, and never the Probation Officers, who would then usually be starting a few hours of home visits and early evening interviews.

Instead of staying on to work into the evening hours with all his other Probation Officer colleagues in the building, Stephen would be sitting at home having tea with his wife and children every evening by 6.00 pm.

His colleagues arrived at the Probation Office to start work one morning, to discover a number of the staff in tears. Stephen's wife, had been found drown in the bath the previous night. While some speculated it had been a horrible accident, it turned out to have probably been suicide.

We later learned that Stephen's wife had been a suicidal depressive for many years, ever since the birth of her two children. We also learned that she had made three or four previous failed attempts at taking her own life. It would seem that on the night in question, when she did drown herself, Stephen had not arrived home at his usual time to make the family their evening meal; having had a car puncture on his way home. When it got to 6.30 pm and he hadn't yet arrived home, his wife told their two children she would take a bath.

After the death of his wife, Stephen gave up his job as a Probation Officer and became a full time house dad to his 8 and 10-year-old children. I never saw or heard of him again after he gave up his Probation job, and I often wondered if he still whittles wood whenever he wants to think things out.

Stephen's behaviour taught me something very important when it came to problem solving. He taught me that while thinking is done with the head, arriving at a conclusion is done by the heart. In short; if one first allows one's heart to dictate the conclusion one wants, one then automatically commands all reasoning of the head to justify and defend the action that follows!

Stephen thought about his wife and children all day long. He worried about them constantly and missed them greatly throughout his day. He knew that when his two children came home from school daily, that his wife would not be able to cope with looking after them for any longer than a good hour, maximum. Hence, Stephen's conclusion to his daily problem was 'never to arrive home later than 5.30 pm to 6.00 pm'. He was never really happy until he was back home with his family and knew that everyone was safe and well.

I will end with one of my favourite quotes by that most lovable of bears who has the capacity to reduce into the fewest of words, the greatest of meanings; Winnie the Pooh:

'Did you ever stop to think, and forget to start again?'" William Forde: August 19th, 2016.

August 18th, 2016.

18/8/2016

Thought for today:
"Instead of crying yourself a river, put your anger and energy into building yourself a bridge and learn to get over it! The past can really hurt, but believe me, moving on can be so rewarding when you are able to see ahead once more.

In today's fast society, everyone wants to get everywhere too soon and without employing any effort. Gone are long term engagements, designed to let two people get to know each other much better before they decide if they are suitable partners to marry each other. Today, one is just as likely to be finding a much wanted soul mate at first outing on the latest dating site, marrying them within a month of first meeting, only to discover down the line that you are incompatible and are divorced within the year.

There is no hurt that wounds as deeply as a failed marriage. Often the scars take half a life time to properly heal. For most divorcees, experiencing a marriage break up is like being emotionally flattened by a ten-ton runaway truck. It always results in the re-emergence of 'trust issues', especially when entering new relationships/situations. You proceed with extreme caution and learn to look left and right, before moving on with your life again.

For those who can move on and learn to trust their own judgement again when picking a soul mate, the rewards are tremendous and can bring untold happiness that was never expected. That's the strange thing about finding true love and real happiness; each are more likely to enter our lives when least expected. Some foolish chasers of romance fall into the trap of having a relationship with a married man who promises to leave his wife and family, but never does. They often find themselves waiting a lifetime for one person and getting nothing, when all they want from life may be found with another in one moment.

We should never be afraid to lose, that which was never meant to be; we should never be frightened to turn off the lights of mocking uncertainty. I have always believed there is an unbreakable connection between healing self and healing others, and if this be true, it emphasises the dependency we each have on others in our sense of well being.

The simple truth is that true love rarely shows its face to the frantic searcher. Stressing what you don't have is futile. If you should have it, if you were fated to have it, then, you would have it! Sometimes one has to undergo the hardship of relationship breakup to rediscover two fundamental truths; that we are not always what we are cracked up to be, and that because we lost one thing that we highly valued, doesn't mean the loss of all things.

We are much more than our relationship with another, but are never any less than our relationship with self. As Cliff used to say, 'Move it!' " William Forde: August 18th, 2016.

https://youtu.be/bLba5Ld4VhE

August 17th, 2016.

17/8/2016

Thought for today:
"Tell me again how hard you say your life is. He has lived in a war zone for almost a decade, he has witnessed his wife and younger members of his family killed by indiscriminate bombing, and there is never enough bread and fresh water for his family to live on from one day to the next. And yet he endures the struggle bravely and will do until the end, because that is the way he was brought up; that is the kind of man he's always been.

Most people with terminal cancers are also born fighters battling their own war; they have to be, in order that they can endure the pain their condition obliges them to carry along the path of their final journey. Often, others don't always appreciate what they are thinking when life is going on around them, particularly in happy family environments. Some, who watch the death of a loved one approach, feel frustrated that they cannot share the burden of their pain, and even guilt is never too far from the surface should they, God forbid, have a moment of pleasure and enjoyment out with a friend, while their partner is back home alone, struggling with their pain and fears.

As a traveller along that final road that takes one from this life to the next, let me reassure you of what we think. We can sum up our shared belief in the same three words that the American poet, Robert Frost expressed, 'Life goes on.' And it is right and proper that it should, particularly for the bereaved. Though their grief can be the heaviest of burdens on the day of their loved one's funeral service, it can also be an anchor, and if you get used to its weight, it will hold you in place during the immediate months ahead.

This morning, Sheila and I will attend the funeral service of Anne Lister's husband, Michael, who died last week after many years of struggle with oral cancer and numerous operations in its latter stage. While Anne gave Michael all the attention, care and love that any spouse could, ever since he was initially diagnosed 14 years ago, the past three months have required round the clock attention by her, all day and all night long.While Michael undoubtedly was in pain, he struggled on; because that was the way he was brought up; that is the kind of man he's always been.

My message to Michael is not to worry about your loved ones, for they remain truly loved. My message to Ann and offspring is that death of itself, doesn't stop a person remaining a treasure in one's life. When someone you love becomes a memory, the memory becomes a treasure to hold on to. RIP Michael." William Forde: August 17th, 2016

August 16th, 2016.

16/8/2016

Thought for today:
"Have you ever wondered why we dream? The answer is different for each one of us who asks the question. Dreams are as simple or as complicated as the dreamer. The reason I dream is because I discovered long ago that dreams can be ever so rewarding and that dreams represent the one place where I can get all I want.

Whether I was a young boy, teenager or elder, my most common dream involved me rescuing fair maidens from a horrible end. As a child, I would be Wild Bill Hickok, sneaking up on the imprisoned beauty who was waiting to be burnt alive at the stake, freeing her, making off with her on my swift steed and living happily with her forevermore. Not often, but occasionally, the rest of the Indian tribe would spot my attempt to free their prisoner and would shower us in arrows as we fled. I would sometimes wake up in a sweat with an arrow through my throat!

Then there were my romantic dreams, which mostly occurred during my teenage years when my testosterone brain was constantly wanting what it hadn't yet had and told my body that it would die if it didn't get it soon. In those dreams, I would be walking along the street one night and come across a group of six youths teasing and assaulting a defenceless young woman. In my dream, I would politely warn the yobs to leave the young woman alone and when they laughingly turned on me with a variety of flick knives, determined to do me damage, I would wipe the floor with all six and leave arm in arm with the woman I'd saved as her attackers grovelled in the dirt.

I often wondered if it was a coincidence that in my dreams during earlier life, I always played the role of 'rescuer.' In my occupations that followed, it could be argued that I continued in that role, as I attempted to rescue the people with whom I worked from lives of hopelessness, helplessness, debauchery, crime, depression, poor health and perceived insignificance and impotence!

Having been a relaxation trainer for over fifty years, as well as having benefited personally and in my profession from the power of imagination techniques, I now see dreams as being an extension of one's daily imaginations. It is my firm belief that all dreams matter, and believe me, when you are happy in a dream, the pleasure and satisfaction is as good as it ever gets and it still counts!

I also strongly suspect that people who achieve great things in life are often to be found among life's dreamers. I look not for the hidden messages in my dreams. If secrets lie in wait to yet unfold, I am perfectly happy to await my destiny.

Often I have heard of people who have horrible dreams and who even fear closing their eyes on a night when they hit the pillow. I often consider such people to be life's pessimists; the ones who awake each day expecting another day of bad things awaiting them in ambush, instead of optimistically anticipating the good day that lies ahead. That is why dreams can either be the cut of life one lives or the slice of death one fears.

For those who look for the concealed messages of their dreams, I'm afraid that like all the Freudian followers, they chase shadows in the dark. They may arrive at some satisfactory conclusion why they still fed from their mother's breast at the age of three or why they continued to use their potty until they were five years old, but they will never acquire the enlightenment they seek regarding graver and more significant consequences of development! Wiser folk have sought to unravel the dreams of another, believing that an uninterpreted dream is like an unread letter that was never written. That, is what I believe Sigmund Freud, the founder of psychoanalysis, tried to do.

I am now 73 years old and one might think that my dreaming days are over, but believe me, they're not. What I am likely to experience these days in my dreams is an amalgam of people who have filled my life, involved in inexplicable situations they never entered into. These days, my dreams often mix up my past experiences and the natural sequence of events that took place in my life, involving real people who are inaccurately placed in the plot. I even wonder sometimes, if it signals the onset of Alzheimer's condition. I can place people in their wrong abodes and have them do things they would never do in the light of day or in a month of Sundays. Then, two seconds after I've woken up, I've forgotten what I dreamt, whereas one time I could have written it down or remembered it all day long, had I wanted to.

One cannot find the cause of yesterday's problems in today's dreams, but if you simply go along with the dream you dream tonight, you may experience answers to some of tomorrow's questions. My late mother was one of life's romantic dreamers and although the totality of her travels never stretched beyond Ireland and England, it never stopped her dreaming of those far away places she would love to see, yet knew she never would." William Forde: August 16th, 2016.

https://youtu.be/Y5RhWVlXF0Q

August 15th, 2016.

15/8/2016

Thought for today:
"While there are some cynics out there who believe that it is easier to push a stubborn jelly up hill than it is to be happy just by being oneself, I'm not one of them.

Trying to be happy or even trying to have a baby is a bit like trying to be in love; the more one tries, the less likely it is to happen. Such experiences are natural experiences, and as such, effort is unlikely to bring them about. Ironically, if only people would stop 'trying' to be happy and learn to be content with their natural self, they'd soon discover that they might have a pretty good time.

All of my life, I have, by and large, enjoyed myself as much as the next man or woman. I have invariably found all of my experiences to have been beneficial in some measure. Even the hurtful, unexpected and uninvited ones, I might add, have helped me become a better, more understanding and more contented person.

Many a person do not realise how happy they could have been, had they made a different decision, chosen a different profession to follow or path to travel. Indeed, there are even some who were happy at the time, but never appreciated their happiness until it was no longer present. The French novelist, Colette, once remarked, 'What a wonderful life I've had. I only wish I'd realised it sooner.'

We love the things we love for what they are, simply because all men and women are silently drawn to another by the stronger pull of what they truly love.

That's how I know I love my wife, Sheila, because when I first looked into her eyes, I just knew how she worked and I've been jumping for joy ever since. As Mrs Beeton in her famous cookery book remarked in its opening passage for making rabbit pie: 'When making rabbit pie, first catch the rabbit!'

I'm so glad and blessed that my Sheila eventually caught me." William Forde: August 15th, 2016.

August 14th, 2016.

14/8/2016

Thought for today:
"I know it is hard to believe, but only last year in West Yorkshire, a number of horses which had been left out to pasture, were stabbed and badly mutilated by senseless and heartless criminals. Any crime against a horse or any creature for that matter, is a crime that strikes at the very heart of civilisation, for there is no more stable companion a man could ever ask for.

Whatever its task, whatever the weather, your horse will be always be there for you, by your side. It will ride you, work in your fields or pull your cart; whatever you ask of it, it will do in good heart. Your horse will remain a constant companion, it won't judge you or question your motives; it cares not how much you know so long as it knows you care. It will offer unconditional love as long as you rub it down and keep it warm at night, and will delight in the occasional apple and sugar lump treat. I swear that if God ever made any creature more beautiful, more faithful, more industrious and more majestic than the horse, He kept it for Himself.

During the late 1990's, a professionally read tape of one of my stories, accompanied by background music, was produced for radio transmission. The story is based on fact and is called 'Midnight Fighter.' It is suitable for any child aged between 5-10 years old, especially if they happen to be a horse lover or suffer from cerebral palsy or any other disability. The book can be purchased in paper back from www.lulu.com or www.amazon.com or in e-book format from www.smashwords.com. As with all of my previous book publications, all profit from their sales go to charitable causes in perpetuity (£200,000 since 1989). In the event of the child reader requiring two stories in the same book about the indefatigable nature of a true fighting spirit against all odds (one of them which is 'Midnight Fighter' and the second, being about a boy of stunted growth called 'Maw,' who resists bullying), both stories are published in the book entitled, 'Fighter', which is also obtainable from the same source.

The audio version which was produced for radio transmission can also be freely downloaded from my website by accessing the link below." William Forde: August 14th, 2016.

http://www.fordefables.co.uk/midnight-fighter.html

August 13th, 2016.

13/8/2016

Thought for today:
"Words are woefully inadequate to describe the loving bond that exists between most mothers and their child. Despite the cord of separation being cut at birth, nothing is capable of severing the unqualified love bond between the two.

In my life, I have personally known the worth of a loving bond between mother and child. I have felt that special relationship that is capable of making bruised knees stop hurting by the magic rub of my mother's hand and the mystical soothing of her voice of reassurance.

As a growing child, my mother always told me that I was 'special' and because of her daily reminders about my 'specialness', I naturally grew up feeling 'special', and still do. The only difference today, is that I know that every creature and human in our world is 'special,' but no more or less than any other of their kind. When, as an 11 year old, I got run over by a large lorry and was a hospital patient for almost nine months with extensive injuries of a fractured spine, lung puncture, 22 out of 24 of my ribs broken, two broken legs and two broken arms, mum and dad were told that I'd die, and when I didn't, they were then told I'd never walk again.

My serious accident kept me unable to walk for three years, and living and walking again merely confirmed my 'specialness' in my mother's eyes. At that time, I simply believed that I could never advance in mum's estimation from the status of 'specialness', but I was wrong. Following my bad accident, a national newspaper described me as being a 'miracle boy' for having confounded the expectations of the medics by surviving and regaining my mobility against all odds. After that, there was no holding my mother back when it came to speaking about 'her special boy.' During the rest of her life, my mother never viewed me as being anything less than 'miraculous.'

When mum died, I knew that I'd lost the best friend I'd ever had and I grieved and cried for a number of weeks after her funeral. I only started to feel better after I started to tell myself that, in spirit, she'd never left me and never would. Though she'd died and could no longer give me that magic rub when I stumbled, fell and bruised myself, or smile reassuringly at me with that mischievous face she could put on whenever I made a boob, she was still with me; much, much more than any memory might conjure up. I still feel that though she passed over from this side of life to the other side of the grave thirty years ago, she has remained by my side ever since, urging me on whenever I was in danger of stopping and watching over me during times when I was in need of my own guardian angel.

From the many things my mother taught me, to always look for the best in other people by taking from yourself, is something I never forgot. She wanted me to live life to the full and to do those things that she never had the opportunity to do, except dream of. Essentially, she taught me not to live my life in either regret or retrospect as there is never any reason to be sorry for living and there is always something new each day for everyone to look forward to. She reminded me that whatever goodness we encountered in our everyday life, however small or seemingly insignificant it might at first appear, that I should never to fail to see its preciousness, because it was worthy of embrace.

At the age of seventy, I stopped writing, having published fifty books. My new wife, Sheila, gave me new hope and she persuaded me to take up my pen again. Having told all the stories I thought I had in me to tell, I decided to tell some of my mother's stories. So, I took the germ of the many stories she used to tell me as a child about her life in Portlaw, County Waterford (the place where I was born and where I'll finally rest). I always wanted to believe the truth of her tales and so I used my vivid imagination and author's licence, and transplanted them from her own garden of thought to mine; growing and stretching them even beyond my mother's 'truthful' recall. I have since 1970, added to my publication list by including a dozen romantic stories that come under the umbrella title of 'Tales from Portlaw.' I wonder what mum would think about the twist I've given to her stories?

My mother was an Irish dreamer and I end this post with her favourite song, that I heard her sing out of tune the whole of my childhood. It is sung by her favourite singer who will become one hundred years old in March, 2017. She would have been very pleased to know that in my later years, the singer of the song, Vera Lynn, became a good friend of her 'special son' and helped me with a number of my charitable causes." William Forde: August 13th, 2016.

https://youtu.be/Y5RhWVlXF0Q

August 12th, 2016.

12/8/2016

Thought for today:
"When the body is in deep depression and it has no strength to resist, it is like being trapped within the centre of a twisted coil of barbed wire, unable to extricate oneself from its penetrating hurt and excruciating helplessness, as it pierces the very soul of one's being.

At such times for the depressive, it helps to draw a line in the sand and know that the tide will return another day that is more to their liking. It also helps to know that however low a person is taken under, that a rising tide is capable of lifting all boats and raising all spirits. When that time arrives, have heart and take charge of your life once more, in the sure knowledge that tides do not command the ship; the captain does!

For many years, I worked with numerous people who suffered from depression, many of whom had been taking tranquillisers and anti depressants for so many years that they'd become addicted to the pills. I have seen numerous marriages and other relationships fall by the wayside because one partner was unable to rid themselves of their depression. I have seen depressed mothers ignore the needs of their infant offspring to the point of extreme neglect and near starvation and I have known of the killing of family members along with so many acts of suicide, when the person no longer possessed the will to live.

A person gets depressed for many reasons, and yet, there are so many similarities from the lives of one depressive to another that certain productive avenues of treatment are known to have better results than others. The worse possible thing that anyone can say to a depressed person is, 'Snap out of it!' This implies that the choice to be in it is theirs, and that they know how to get out of it, but refuse to do so.

Whilst one may never know the cause in the first instance, the symptoms experienced by depression are clearly recognisable and can usually be dealt with. The depressed person does not sleep properly and therefore is constantly short of energy. Without energy, the body has no power to resist negative thoughts and feelings which can overwhelm the person and push them towards a state of learned helplessness. Good sleeping practices are therefore essential.While some medication can assist as a short gap measure, establishing good daily living patterns and learning to relax is far more beneficial towards the restoration of vital energy levels.

The first thing to do therefore, is to join a Relaxation Training class. Learning relaxation methods is the best way to introduce good sleeping practice into your life once more. Note however, before the relaxation methods will have enough effect for you to sleep better, you will have to reduce your anti-depressant intake until you reach the stage where you no longer need them. Whatever you do: DO NOT STOP TAKING YOUR ANTI-DEPRESSANT MEDICATION WITHOUT TELLING YOUR DOCTOR OF YOUR DECISION TO JOIN A RELAXATION CLASS, AND ASKING HIM TO PREPARE A PHASED REDUCTION OF YOUR MEDICATION INTAKE IN CONJUNCTION WITH YOUR CHANGED SITUATION. To help you sleep better, most people find the use of imagery exercises and soothing relaxation tapes highly advantageous to use.The one below is freely accessable.
http://www.fordefables.co.uk/relax-with-bill.html

Like a maze, finding your way out of depression can more easily be achieved by retracing your steps and rediscovering your way in. As a behaviourist, I am essentially a person who seeks to exchange problem behaviour for non-problem behaviour and I care less about discovering the reason why the person became depressed in the first place as opposed to helping them to get rid of their depression. Should the person need to discover why they initially became depressed at a future date, they will need to visit a psychiatrist, psychologist or a therapist. In my experience, I have invariably found that 'insight' is easier to access after the problem has been eradicated and one's problem situation can be viewed retrospectively.

Nearly all depressives are more likely to be introvert people who rarely express their emotions or views and are usually prepared to take a back seat on the bus of life. They believe themselves less worthy than other passengers and therefore feel less deserving to sit at the front of the bus. This non-assertive type displays a non-assertive response pattern. Joining any number of Social Skills or Assertive Training Groups can help assist such types in becoming more assertive in their lives.

Curiously, people who have aggressive response patterns rarely suffer depression, because they find some advantages in expressing their anger states. Ironically, their aggressive behaviour often gives them just enough of what they want out of life in order to justify the continuation of it. By standing their ground and making sure that their feelings are heard and rarely ignored, unlike the Non-Assertive person, they rarely feel they do not matter. They may not exercise 'appropriate aggression' or express their anger appropriately, but they nevertheless express their anger instead of bottling it up; something that the depressive and non-assertive person never does.

Were every act of murder to be analysed, the findings would surprise most of the public. Just as sexual offences against children are more likely to be committed by a family member as opposed to strangers, so are the mass killings of entire families.

It is not unheard of to arrive home, turn on the news and hear that John Smith came home from work two hours earlier and after mowing his lawn (a task he completed every Wednesday without fail), he entered the garage, retrieved a shot gun he stored there, entered the family home and shot his wife, three children and family pet dead, before turning the shotgun on himself!

As you watch the television news, the presenter may inform the viewer that this heinous act seemed wholly inexplicable as John Smith had always come across to his neighbours as being an extremely polite man who hated violence; a man of total respectability in the community who dearly loved his wife and family. He reportedly attended church weekly, washed his car every Saturday without fail, was always pleasant to talk to, was never known to argue or complain and didn't appear to have an ounce of aggression in his body.

The truth is that because the non-assertive John Smith had always repressed his anger feelings at the moment of their birth instead of appropriately expressing them, his anger had been building up inside him for years and years; until the pressure became too great to contain, and like an active volcano ready to blast off, someone or something lit his touch fuse and he exploded.

Paradoxically, were John Smith to have been the aggressive type, he might have blown his fuse and broken someone's leg, punched their lights out, or in extreme circumstances, lost complete control of his aggression and mistakenly killed. In the extreme, 'manslaughter' might have been the response of the violent aggressive, whereas senseless 'murder' remains the domain of the extremely non assertive person; especially if they suffer from constant depression also, along with an increased risk of suicide!

The depressive person needs to start expressing the things that leads to them feeling angry; they need to start saying 'No' when they don't want to do something: they need to learn to make and refuse requests in an appropriately assertive way and not allow others to put on them. Before they can compliment themselves for anything, they need to learn how to compliment others. More importantly than all else, they will never be able to express love to another before they learn to love themselves! All of this learning can be done in Assertion Training Groups and even practised daily in one's own home and neighbourhood surroundings.

My final piece of advice would be never to undervalue the true worth of using someone to talk to, particularly when you are in danger of being in the dumps. We all need another to confide in during times of need. Even the strongest of personalities can draw more strength from the support and listening ear of a friend, or a professional counsellor and even a stranger. During a previous marriage, my wife, who worked as a counsellor, often earned £30 an hour listening to the troubles of a stranger, when that person could have had the listening ear of a friend for no more than the cost of a cup of tea.

When I was giving up smoking after 50 years of the weed, I only managed it on the third attempt when I told myself that I was a tobacco addict and my habit was killing me. Psychologically, giving up depression is like having an abusive relationship with yourself and can be nothing more than a daily guilt trip. It's as though your feelings have been unplugged from their socket and you arrive at the view that any feelings you have left are not worthy of expression so you elect not to engage with life again. The depressive constantly feels sorry for themselves and when you feel sorry for them also and ask them how they feel,whatever words they use, they indirectly say, 'It hurts, but it's okay. I'm used to it.'

I thank God that I have never known what it's like to feel depressed in the whole of my life and my heart goes out to those people who are plagued by such an affliction. What I do know though is that depression can be beaten if you are determined to change your lifestyle enough to want to beat it." William Forde: August 12th, 2016.

August 11th, 2016

11/8/2016

Thought for today:
"Today is the twin birthday of my brother Peter and my son, William. While having been born under the same star, each are different in their most prominent characteristics.

Put briefly, my brother, Peter, has always been the family fool, the one to clown about and to have always done the most outlandish of things. Once, as the child of a mum with seven children and little money to spare, when mum couldn't pay the rent, and the rent man knocked at the door and Peter heard mum wish that he'd go away, nine-year-old Peter took it into his head to act as mum's champion and drive the nasty man away. He picked up a long-handled broom, opened the door and hit the rent man on the head with a mighty blow!

My son, William , seems to prefer to live his life on the edge also. If there is one thing which he is likely to consider boring, it would undoubtedly be the familiarity of convention; of knowing what he might be doing the next day. In all of his 33 years, he has rarely been conventional in thought or lacking in conviction whenever he has set his mind on something.

This photograph is of William and his sister Becky, playing in the first and only house I ever built for them.William is the one holding the soft toy hanging out the window; the one with the curly locks that makes him look more like the girl and his sister, the boy. William had two favourite sayings which were obviously designed to let me and his mother know who was the boss of the household.

Frequently he would point at me and say 'You chump' and then whilst beating his breast in a stroke of victory, he would say, 'Me champ!'

Whenever I used to tell him to do something, he would first automatically ask 'Why?' I would then say in my parental voice, 'Because I say so and you've got to!' to which his reply would invariably be, 'Got to not to!'

Come to think of it almost thirty years later, these were pretty good replies for a four year old who was still finding his way in the world.

William was an early reader. He could read excellently by the time he started first school at the age of five years and was most of his way through the Roald Dahl selection of books by the age of six years. His school had this colour-coded policy with its book-reading scheme at the time and all pupils had to read the colour code ascribed to their age and class year. William conformed reluctantly for his first year at school before refusing outright to read what he called, 'baby books' which his class teacher placed before him and the other pupils.

Initially he told me and his mum about the problem that he considered to be 'time wasting', but we simply replied that school rules applied to all without exception. So he took it upon himself to approach the Head and to try to resolve the issue personally. At the age of six, William gave up a lunch break one day in order to attend the Head's office with a request to see her. He said, 'Do what you want to me, but I'm not reading any more baby books for anyone!' After being verbally reprimanded by the Head, he went back to class and went on 'a work to rule.'

Deadlock existed for about two weeks before we saw the Head and arrived at a compromise. We took home the colour-coded books and the Head agreed to take our word that he read through one colour before being placed on the next. Within a month, William was reading books to his level of ability and no exceptions were longer needed that breached school policy.

Then, when William got to 14 years old and the world seemed to be at his feet, his oyster simply closed up and it was a number of years before we observed his pearl of wisdom show itself again. Out went the reading of books and in came rap music, gel-spiked hair, girlfriends and the occasional spliff of cannabis, along with his persistence in arguing the merits of any view he happened to hold that was contrary to his mum and dad's.

I recall on one occasion that in my anger, after he had kicked out at me when I tried to ground him and stop him leaving the house, I automatically hit him on the head with my slipper that I was in the process of holding. He ran out of the house and called 'Child line.' Later that evening two police officers called to our house and I told them what precisely had happened. One of the officers, who sympathised with my situation said to William, 'Listen carefully, William. Dad hit you with a slipper and whatever the reason or justification, that act is against the law. If we officially report it, he will most certainly lose his job as a Probation Officer and could even receive a custodial sentence. Do you understand?' After William had indicated his understanding of the situation the police man asked him, 'Having heard what I've just told you what will happen if we make this official and charge your father, do you want us to charge him?'

William looked at the police man who'd wisely put him on the spot and said, 'No! Let him off...... this time!'

Although William eventually took his Degree in Economics at Huddersfield University, regular living and rule-following never seemed to come naturally to him. He embarked upon two years back-packing across America and two more continents before settling down in Australia, where he has now lived for six years; the last three years as a married man. He also got his Masters at Perth University.

I'd like to report that William is more conventional today in both his outlook and lifestyle, but to do so would be to tell a blatant lie. Whereas he has always been a rebel ever since early childhood, he has never been without a cause from one week to the next!

Today, he seems to change the nature of his paid employment with the regularity of the late Elizabeth Taylor changing marriage partners. But whatever he does to earn his living, he will always engage in charity work and giving Yoga instructions, as these two aspects of his life seem to hold great meaning and purpose for him.

In many respects, I can see a lot of myself in my son, William, when I was younger. However, as I frequently tell him, I grew out of my worldly travels and was ready for settling down to married life and a family when I was in my mid twenties and that he is currently operating ten years behind his old dad.

The thing that I most love about my brother, Peter and my son, William, is that God blessed each of them with the biggest of hearts and the wildest of character streaks. This will ensure that neither will ever be taken for granted by any chap trying to take money off their mother which she doesn't have to give them!

A very happy birthday brother and son. May your special day be filled with much happiness, love and generosity. I love you both dearly xxx" William Forde: August 11th, 2016.

August 10th, 2016.

10/8/2016

Thought for today:
"Freedom is no less than the oxygen of life and the spirit of the soul, without which all life is meaningless. If it is to mean anything of worth to a man or woman, it must mean being able to choose one's own burden towards the end of one's journey through life! It starts with thought itself, follows on with the freedom of expression and concludes in one's chosen action.

We each live differently and we all die differently. No two deaths are the same and the way one chooses to carry their last burden from this side of life to the other will always remain unique to that person.

Last night, the sky seemed a bit darker when I heard that the husband of my good friend, Anne Lister, sadly lost his lengthy battle with oral cancer. Michael had been first diagnosed many years ago and had long defied the medics in their predictions.While we never met, I feel that I knew him through the love of his wife and the many things she would tell me about him.Whenever Anne spoke of her husband, it was always wrapped in words of genuine affection and a wifely respect. This told me that however much on the outside Michael's illness and the many facial operations he had endured over the past few years had changed his appearance, she never once lost sight of the image of the man she first loved, married and had lived with and cared for.

In some ways, because we each travelled the cancer road of 'no return', I felt an affinity with Michael as I do other cancer sufferers with terminal conditions. Paradoxically, we do not necessarily have to see each other, to know more closely than others what a dying person may be going through at a particular stage of their illness, or have an idea of some of the thoughts inside their heads, their unspoken fears and even their unvoiced dreams for their loved ones and family they leave behind. In a strange way, the affinity we feel is not only comforting, but also inspiring! Each extra day one terminally ill cancer patient lives adds an extra day to the lives of other terminally cancer patients in hopeful expectation, and every time a cancer patient dies, a part of us dies with them.

All people who love the husband or wife who is by their side at the end is blessed. All who are fortunate to die at home instead of in a hospital bed is doubly blessed. And all people who have the wisdom to know that those who watch death in its passing require more courage and support than the person on their death bed, will not forget their grieving friends in the months and years ahead. That is the most lonely time of all, when the memory of our friend's loss has faded in our minds as we continue with our busy lives, but not in theirs. That is the time when friends to the bereaved are needed just as much; and when the holding of the hand and a cuddle five years after the death is just as welcome and as needed as it was on the day of the funeral.

My thoughts are with Anne and her family and friends today and I celebrate in the knowledge that Michael lived and loved. RIP Michael Lister xxx" William Forde: August 10th, 2016.

August 9th, 2016.

9/8/2016

Thought for today:
"I know that most chaps can be typed cast as either being a face or a boobs person whenever looking at an attractive woman, but not me; I'm most definitely a legs person and I've a pretty good idea as to why.

It stems from my accident as an 11-year-old boy when a large lorry ran over me and I couldn't walk for three years. Because my body had been wrapped around the drive shaft of the lorry which I was trapped under for an hour, my injuries were extensive and life threatening. I remained on the danger list for a long time while the specialists kept me alive and applied their attention and surgical skills to my gravest injuries, (a punctured lung, a damaged spine and every rib in my chest broken, with the exception of two).

I had also broken both my limbs in multiple places, but by the time they got around to dealing with my legs, they found my left leg had been broken on the knee, plus five other places and had been left badly twisted. Because of my damaged spine, my parents were told that I'd never walk again. Nevertheless, they tried to straighten my left leg after mending the two breaks in my right one. In total, I was to have over fifty operations on my left leg over the following years, breaking and resetting. By the time I did walk again three years later, I'd stopped growing and my left leg was now three inches shorter than my right leg.

While normal mobility did eventually return to me against the medical prognosis, my legs were left imbalanced and somewhat crooked to look at. Yet, all of my life thereafter, and despite the acute osteoarthritis that emerged twenty five years ago which resulted in my early retirement from my work as a Probation Officer, I have always loved my legs and considered them as the most beautiful part of my body. When they stopped working and were expected never to move again, they listened to my mental instructions and the whisper of my heart instead of following the expectations of the medics.

When I started work, the very first part of my wardrobe I treated myself to from my earnings was a good pair of shoes. And though it frequently shames me to think about it, particularly in these times of austerity, my greatest indulgence in adult years has always been to treat my loyal legs to the best pair of shoes money can buy. Naturally the most comfortable shoes to wear have usually been the most costly and I have been known to spend a considerable amount of money upon footwear that flatter both ego and stride.

So whilst having a pair of legs I love dearly, but ones which have been through the mangle and back, despite the irony, I wouldn't dream of being seen walking out with any woman who didn't have a good pair of pins on her. My reasoning may be considered arrogant in the extreme, but to me it is self evident. I simply think too much about my own legs not to be concerned with any other pair they might become entwined with." William Forde: August 9th, 2016.

August 8th, 2016.

8/8/2016

Thought for today:
"We go much farther in this life when we go together. We can each do things the other can't, but together we can do greater things. Thoughtfulness and togetherness is the common denominator between care and prayer.

When in doubt, check it out! It's best to share when you say a prayer! Thoughtfulness and togetherness are the most constant considerations and natural bed companions between any child child and their pet. Children, in their innocence, show all us adults the way to true love and the path to God." William Forde: August 8th, 2016.

August 7th, 2016.

7/8/2016

Thought for today:
"Don't ever be fooled by the calendar when it comes to either loving or living, as there is only one moment for each experienced event. Throughout one's life, because time is so precious to us all, there are only as many moments in the year as you make use of. The choice is yours whether or not you pass through a moment or stay with it.

The butterfly counts not in months but moments, yet has time enough to spread its wings far and wide. It knows that love and life is more fragile to hold on to once its bloom has faded and therefore makes precious, every moment of its existence, believing that no time spent expressing love is ever time wasted.

And yet, the butterfly also knows that where love exists, so do never ending miracles. Butterflies enter every stomach of love in its rising with the first flutters of romance, and remain there for as long as love lasts.

For a lucky few, the mutual warmth of their affections ensures that their love stays forever in bloom, whatever the season. For most though, marriage will experience its occasional cold spells, when the roots of love, lacking in nutrient affection will be tested. Lovers who lose sight of each other, do well to try to remember that person whom they initially fell in love with, as this can often lead them back towards the path of rediscovering all those things they once loved about each other.

Love can be fleeting or lasting, but is without doubt, truly magical! Indeed, I would go so far as to say that when one despairs at the end of a broken relationship, that new love is the only sorcerer capable of pulling one's life back out of the hat. If you give it a chance, love will refresh your life in a way nothing else can. Love teaches us that when we change the way we look at life, our life changes for the better. Love reminds us that one can never again know loneliness, once one starts to like the person they are alone with!

So give out your love freely and you will always receive its return in abundance. Sometimes the only way to see love bloom is to give it time to grow at its own natural pace; not to place hearts in conflict by forcing love's growth. A forced flower will never last as long as a natural bloom; it's splendour can only be transient and will fail to thrive at its first winter experience.

Allowing your mutual love to find its proper pace and place, where it will naturally grow within your relationship, will forge a 'togetherness' so strong, that neither the harshest of winters, the longest of time nor the threat of death itself can pull its petals from the stem. In such delicacy and fragility of being, true love at its strongest, is capable of enduring anything the seasons throw at it. William Forde: August 7th, 2016.