FordeFables
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        • The Tannery Wager
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        • '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
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        • Chapter Ten - The Portlaw Inheritance of Patrick Duffy
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        • 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
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        • 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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November 30th, 2017.

30/11/2017

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Thought for today:
"Over the past few weeks, I have received numerous requests to include more romantic poetry I have written over the years in my daily posts. Let me first say that I never wrote any romantic poetry before I met, fell in love with and married Sheila in November 2012. Since then I have penned many poems, largely inspired by my love of her; the first one I ever wrote which I include in my 'Thought for today'.

The first romantic poem I ever wrote was how Sheila and I 'might have felt' had neither of us looked back at each other as we parted after our first date, and had neither of us declared our love for the other in the weeks that followed that first meeting. The poem imagines that we each felt love for the other when we first met, but for various reasons, were too frightened/not bold enough to declare our love. Before we met, Sheila had acquired a photo image of me, which she had framed after we first parted. In the imagined poem, every day thereafter, we each went through our lives thinking about the love we lost and the soul mate we could have had. The conclusion of the poem imagines that though we missed our chance of sharing true love together in this life, should we happen to meet again in the next life, we would seize the opportunity with open arms and wouldn't let love pass us by again.

The actual circumstances behind our first meeting were as follows. I met Sheila for the first time in Haworth on a cold, December Wednesday afternoon. We parted a few hours later after we'd had lunch and a chat at Gascoignes' Restaurant on Main Street. At the point of parting, I didn't know if we'd meet again, but something inside me told me we would. I had fallen in love with Sheila within the space of a few hours of meeting her but didn't know it for certain at the time. I didn't know how Sheila felt about me; I just knew that this woman had awakened in me, feelings I thought had been forever put away.

I'd been badly hurt when my marriage had broken up a few years earlier; a marriage I'd been in for almost thirty years, and which produced two beautiful children. Our children had been to university and had left the family nest and settled into new lives. No longer in need of a large house, especially as my wife had just acquired a job at an Irish University in Belfast, led us to downsize from our family home and move into another house nearby.

My wife continued to work in Ireland and I started to live in our newly acquired property alone. My wife never did come to live there. I never knew that my marriage was over until the day my wife suddenly told me that she wanted our marriage to end. Not expecting the news, it hit me like a bombshell, stunned and shocked me to my roots. I cried for the next week and was very sad; all the more because there was no other party involved. My wife was/had always been/still is a good woman and loving mother to our children, and I still loved her. For her part, the marriage had simply run its course and she felt it was better to 'call it a day'.

From my viewpoint, the marriage had been good, and therefore, the sudden shock that my wife wanted it to end because it had 'run its course', without me having an inkling that the relationship was on its last legs, made me doubt my own judgement in other people. It also made me wary to ever trust or love another woman.

Shortly before Sheila and I married on my 70th birthday, I wrote my first romantic poem. The poem wasn't one based upon Sheila and myself 'getting together' and 'staying together', but instead, it was a poem about 'what might have been' had Sheila felt she loved me following our first date, but had let me walk away without ever having declared her love for me.

The poem is about two people who wanted to love again but were too fearful of finding love again and getting hurt again. They feel instant love for the other person on first meeting them, but do not declare their feelings. Instead they reluctantly part, and watch each other walk away. The poem imagines the woman regretting daily the man she foolishly let go, and in doing so, knowing that she let her best chance of love slip from her grasp. He too regrets never having 'followed through' with his feelings and the love and life they might have shared.The poem is entitled, 'The Greatest'.

'The Greatest' by William Forde: Copyright: 2012.

The greatest words I never heard were whispered down the wind.
On one dark sombre Wednesday night, my life came to an end.
‘Come back’ you whispered silently as I did walk away,
Half- broken, shattered, disillusioned;
melted heart at play.

The greatest thrill I never knew was just around the bend.
Faint-hearted lover look at me, I’ll be much more than your friend.
Why did you not profess your love, you can’t have understood,
Why did you cruelly smash my dreams when all I thought was good?

The greatest love of all my life forever shall be thee.
The biggest fool that ever lived thou knowest to be me.
The softest touch I never felt came from your warm embrace,
You kissed my image tenderly, you warmed my glassy face.

Your lips brushed mine so sweetly, though I never felt a thing
Your tears of loss ran down my cheeks and rested therewithin.
Trapped forever ‘neath the glass which captured this wry smile,
Unknown to me you swore your love and sighed alone awhile.

Had you but spoken sooner, it would have been okay,
The love that I expressed to you would never fade away.
Had you believed the best in me, if only you had said,
Together now we would be, forevermore instead.

Alone, we live our destiny, until the day we die,
We’ll stay apart, no more to kiss beneath the lover’s sky.
Until the green sod binds us close, once more beneath the ground
We’ll kiss; we’ll touch, and say so much, no more shall we need sound.

Copyright William Forde: December 2012.

Post of 30th November, 2017.

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November 29th, 2017.

29/11/2017

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Thought for today:
"To my wonderful wife, I wish you the happiest of birthdays, Sheila. May your special day be filled with much happiness, love, peace and generosity.
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When I first saw you, Sheila, I was afraid to meet you. When I met you I was afraid to kiss you, and when I kissed you, I was afraid to love you. Now that I love you, I am afraid to lose you. You have beguiled and bewitched me with your purity and gentle innocence and your loving ways. I am mesmerized by your presence in my life, seduced by your enduring sensitivity and concern, enticed by your charm, ensnared by your brain and inner beauty and entrapped by your unstinting generosity of faith in me.

When I look into your eyes I see everything I ever needed. Without you, there is no me, no us, no purpose upon which to outlay love. That is what you mean to me; that and much more than I have words to adequately describe.

A very happy birthday, Sheila. You still look as beautiful as the day when we first met on Haworth Main Street. When you first approached me and said, 'You'll do, I'll have you!' you left me breathless and I've been breathless ever since with my good fortune. From the moment of our first meeting, our hearts, minds and souls fused into one enduring love that life daily celebrates and death cannot separate. I love you Sheila Forde xxx.

No birthday to a sweetheart should pass without a poem of love. This is a short poem which I wrote several years ago when I was thinking of all the things that make me love you. Happy birthday, Sheila. Bill xxxxxxx


'What makes me love you' by William Forde:
(Copyright William Forde 2014)

'You want to know what makes me love you,
I do not have the means to say.
There are no words to match my feelings,
no marriage between what is, what may
have passed between us then,
what weds us to the future now,
what makes me yours, what makes you mine,
what makes my loving you divine.
I just know that I love you.'


William Forde: November 29th, 2017.
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November 28th, 2017.

28/11/2017

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​Thought for today:
"With still four wintry months ahead of us before spring returns in all its glory, I look forward to the season of romantic expectation and wild delight; a time when new love is reawakened and old love is fondly remembered and reaffirmed.

Oh, heavenly fields of springtime flowers that smell so sweet in meadows fresh, wave proudly in the still breeze of a summer's afternoon. And when the day is done and evening shadows return to rest across the ground to cloak your roots, let stand those spots where lovers laid their heads and bodies as they secretly kissed and caressed among the long grass of your green blades.


Disturb not the flattened grass of misspent youth and fervent passion, for it remains in springtime sanctification of those places on this earth where love did both blossom and flourish in sweet abandonment. Yesterday, this precise spot was little more than a charming field of flower and grasses, whereas today it rocked the cradle of creation, and tomorrow it may be of similar service in furthering the start of life. 

In years to come, this precise spot will be revisited by family additions who were first conceived beneath the summer sky many years earlier in meadows now reborn. A young child will run through the fields in sheer wonder, clutching a parent's hand as brothers and sisters race on behind; all touching the floral sons and daughters of the field poppies and cowslips of earlier generations without ever knowing that this was not the first time they helped to flatten its blades of grass.


And so human life goes on and the wheel of nature inexorably turns full cycle, allowing man and woman to lie down in love and become one with the earth below and the Creator above." William Forde: November 28th, 2017.

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November 27th, 2017.

27/11/2017

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Thought for today:
"To endure is bolder than to brave, for fortitude never floats in the waters of fear, but resides within our inner fortress until next needed and is reproduced in the waves of victory. The process of endurance has stages through which we travel from the 'Port of Understanding' across the 'Sea of Withstanding', before finally settling in 'Survivor's Bay'.

The paragraph above is my words and thoughts after 75 years of being alive. Yet, despite (or perhaps because of) my many years of formal education, it took me half a lifetime to realise that the most significant consequence of all my 'academic experience' was that formal education actually restricted my learning by teaching me 'not to think' in a non-academic way. The truth, I later discovered after my mother's early death was more readily found in her words and sayings she would often tell me in my childhood than in any book I ever read or educational establishment I ever attended or taught in. The sad thing was that she had died before her wisdom consciously sunk home and took on new life inside of me!

My mother taught her children through example. By seeing first hand how she dealt with her trial and tribulations, all her children eventually learned not to give in easily. We learned not to allow the difficult experience to daunt and demoralise us. We learned how to maintain heart when all around have lost theirs.This homespun Irish wisdom of mum stemmed from her own personal experience and held sway at the very core of her reasoning. It was to explain to me in later life why one person will succeed and another fail under 'seemingly' identical circumstances.

It took me the best part of a lifetime to understand one of creation's conundrums and life's most common variable: that no two people ever experience similar events the same, and which result in them thinking, feeling and responding the same about what happened. Or put more succinctly in my mother's words, 'We are all different!'

It helps one to endure more easily, more often and more naturally when one understands what is really happening inside oneself during times of personal struggle. When one starts to unravel the process that is involved when 'Thought' shakes hands with 'Feeling' and produces the response pattern of 'Doing', the sapling grows into a tree that bears fruit,

In her own wise but simple way, my Catholic mother would tell me when I wanted something which family finances couldn't afford, that all personal trials throughout life are there to teach one the value of unmerited suffering. She would say, 'Billy, life is love and love can also hurt. God tells us that heartache and disappointment is put before us to make us stronger. Don't try to push it away; learn to live with it and beat it!'

It took me many years to accept that the more we learn, the less we truly know. I have read many thousands of books, travelled to numerous places and have been formally taught in educational establishments from First School to University (even 'progressing' to teaching postgraduate students in further educational evening classes over a three-year period in my forties). And yet, despite all this formal education, I suspect that I have always known less than my mother (who left school to enter the field of work at the age of 14 years).

Like many of my reader's parents, my mother received her education in the 'university of life', yet understood more about life and human behaviour better than any academic I ever came across. When I compare my extensive reading and expansive vocabulary compared to hers, along with my command of the spoken and written word, I will always run a poor second. In short, she had the capacity to say in half a dozen simple words, what takes me half a dozen complicated sentences to explain.

We can all endure pain when it has come about through our own fault and personal deliverance, but to experience unwarranted hurt without reacting with bitterness is the only road to transform suffering into a creative force that will surely strengthen one's mind, body and soul. To live and breathe involves experiences of pain and pleasure. Without either one, we could never know the other. Learn how to endure both, however, and you will have started to learn how to mould experiences, fashion happiness and come to terms with life itself.

All of my mother's influence on my life is hidden within every thought, feeling and action I have had since her death. I suppose the most enduring truth she imparted to me, was to help me understand the meaning of William Ernest Henley's immortal words from his Victorian poem, 'Invictus', written in 1875:
'I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.'

Invictus in Latin means 'unconquerable' or 'undefeated'. The poem was written by Henley when he was in the hospital being treated for tuberculosis of the bone.

Any Latin my mother ever read or heard spoken was when the parish priest said weekly mass in Latin instead of in the mother tongue. I could safely bet a £million that my mother never read Henley's poem, but she often told me in her own words the very same sentiments that Henley had expressed almost eighty years earlier. She would say, ' Billy, don't blame someone else when you do wrong. You're responsible for your own actions. You've nobody else to blame but yourself for having taken a wrong turning in life.'

My mother died at the early age of 64 years. Her memory lives on in all her seven children and the things she taught us has endured throughout the ages in a timeless truth. God bless you mum. Love you and always will. Your eldest son, Billy." William Forde: November 27th, 2017.
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November 26th, 2017.

26/11/2017

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Thought for today:
"It is said that nothing wears as well as old love. I do believe that old love wears best and is a blessing to behold in all its enduring splendour. When man and wife can travel through life and approach their death still holding hands and still holding on to those shared values that they set out with all those years ago, they have achieved all that is attainable through mutual affection and faithful attendance to each other's needs.

Such a journey can only be made in love and sustained through a constancy of purpose. Also vital in running the long race is a trust of a partner's judgement in all things and faith in their capacity to deal truthfully and sensitively with their soul mate's needs and desires. A sense of humour is essential, along with hugs, holding hands and the occasional caress of surprise.

The last memory we are left with of our soul mate is often the one that the mind never forgets. Never leave the house or return without first kissing your partner. We may be just popping across the road, but none of us ever know for certain that we will make it back! Never allow a day to start or end when you fail to tell your partner that you love them, and never to go to bed on an unresolved argument. Last, but by no means least, if you want to have a good life together, such can only be achieved by being able to have a laugh together, have an honest discussion, have the compassion and understanding to forgive, and always have a care never to step on their dreams." William Forde: November 26th, 2017.


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November 25th, 2017

25/11/2017

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Thought for today:
"I am regularly asked about my current state of health by so many people so have decided to provide a health summary and update as my post today.

As most of you will know, prior to December 2016, I had a terminal cancer of the blood called Chronic 
Lymphocitic  Leukemia (CLL).This condition was diagnosed in 2013 and became active within the same year. Once my cancer became active, I was informed it could never be cured and would require treating with chemotherapy as it advanced through the terminal stages.

A major by-product of my cancer is that my bone marrow doesn't function and I have no immune system with which to fight off any infection. Consequently, if I come into near contact with anyone with a cold or a bug, I will deteriorate within hours. Their cold becomes my pneumonia and stands a 50/50 chance of killing me off. At the very least, I will be bed-bound for 3-6 months and have no contact with the outside world and visitors to our home during the recuperation period.

Since 2013, I have spent 6 months, 6 months, 5 months and 9 months respectively either in bed, in hospital, receiving three-weekly blood transfusions, or physically housebound. I have also received two six-month courses of chemotherapy; the first in 2014 and more recently in 2017. In early 2016, I also developed facial skin cancer which was successfully treated during that year.

I effectively live my days playing Russian Roulette with my life whenever I leave the house or receive visitors. Each time I come into close contact with any person with a cold, infection, bug, or share the same breathing space as them, or shake an unclean hand, I know that the consequences could be potentially life-threatening for me.
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Consequently, because I choose to live my life for as long as possible, and because I want to live a life instead of merely 'existing', I have no intention of living it as a hermit or not as satisfying as possible. I compromise, by minimising the danger as much as possible. I avoid crowds, keep visitors to one or two at a time, and limit my contact with the most infectious human species of all; paradoxically, the ones I love the most; children.

On Boxing Day, 2016, I suddenly became very ill and was admitted as an emergency patient to the hospital. Over the next two months as an inpatient on an intensive care ward, I came close to death twice and even had a DNR placed in my medical file. I entered hospital having two cancers and quickly discovered the presence of a third cancer; a Lymphoma which would most certainly have killed me (which it almost twice did anyway), had it been discovered a month later. Numerous tests showed that my initial cancer of CLL had transformed into a deadlier and more aggressive cancer (Richter's Transformation) that manifested itself as Lymphoma. When I eventually got over the worse, I then received another six-month course of aggressive chemotherapy. Please note, that whilst at death's door for almost two months in the hospital, the thought never once entered my head how seriously poorly I was.

I have been seen by my cancer consultant twice since my last chemotherapy treatment ended. I saw my consultant two days ago, and after an examination, she told me that the Lymphoma was in remission; leaving me now with just my terminal blood cancer of CLL to deal with. Because I am on eradiated blood, plus other complications I won't go into, I can never benefit from marrow transplant or any of the other options open to some patients with CLL. My consultant was surprised, yet very happy with my progress over the past six months and advised me to continue with the health regime and daily routine I have now firmly established as being the best one to follow, with the aim of maintaining stability for as long as possible.

I would like to thank all of you again for your thoughts, your daily prayers and your kind comments over the years; particularly during 2017 that started off very stormy. The multitude of prayers and masses given on my behalf were not only greatly appreciated by myself and Sheila, but I am convinced, helped me through my most dangerous moments. The love of my life, Sheila, has been both angel and rock for me throughout, and in all truth, I would rather be facing death with her by my side than living my life into old age without her (Please note, I don't consider 75 years as being old!). Indeed, until I contracted cancer, or married Sheila, never did I realise how much loved any person can feel. I would never have believed that so much love could be expressed towards one person by so many; most of whom I have never physically met. It would have been simply unthinkable of me to have died during 2017 and left this mountain of love behind.

The past five years since Sheila and I married have been the happiest years of my life, despite any illness I've incurred and we have had to deal with. I suppose the best way I can describe my own troubles and inconveniences against all the heartache and suffering many other people have to face and endure daily, without little prospect of ever changing for the better, is to say that, "I would rather die in my world than have to endure one day living in theirs." I will not pretend that I do not have pain as I have always had bodily pain since a bad accident at the age of twelve years. My pain consists mostly of painful hands and feet 24 hours daily, and when bad, can keep me awake most of the night. However, over the years I have learned to live with and adapt to any painful episodes in my daily life. My pain is 'tolerable'; probably because I have a high pain threshold and have practised Relaxation and other methods of meditation for sixty years, and taught them for fifty.

What is more important to this post, is that 'health-wise', the past six months have been the best six months I've experienced over the past five years. I am currently having a very settled spell with my condition. I have required no regular blood transfusions for over six months and have had no need to visit the doctor or have him visit me. In fact, my red blood cell count is currently near normal level and even my white blood cell count and platelet level have shown signs of improvement. I still have mo immune system working, but we can't ever have everything we want in life! In fact, were it not for this interminable pain in my hands and feet and avoiding crowds and children, nobody would ever guess that I was 'a dead man walking'.

I shall remember this year as having been a good year. I should have twice died and didn't, I discovered how many friends I had, I felt more loved than any man has a right to feel loved in any one lifetime and I planted some flowers and veg in our allotment for the seasons ahead. I even had a Facebook friend called, Chand Mahtani, specifically visit me from Singapore, just to meet me face-to-face and give me some flowers. Sheila and I had a nice holiday in Cornwall in August and I have spent many hours with Sheila at our allotment during the autumn months whenever the weather has permitted. We have also spent a shed load of money giving the allotment a face-lift. I could have got rid of my double chin with some costly cosmetic surgery, and had some very expensive dentistry work carried out for half the price! My son and his partner have visited me from Australia this October and my daughter will be spending Christmas with us, along with Sheila's brother. I have only written one novel this year that was recently published (making 67 published books since 1990), but have now re-established a regular writing routine. I am currently writing a 'crossover' book that is suitable for children, young persons and adults. The book will be published in March 2018 and will be dedicated to my new granddaughter, my third grandchild, to remind her of the purpose of life when I am no longer here to enjoy it with her. Oh, and by the way, my hair has regrown!

Anyone out there living with cancer should never forget that though you may eventually 'die of cancer', you do not have to 'die with cancer'. Whether or not your condition has been diagnosed 'curable' or 'terminal', the most important thing you can do for yourself and your loved ones is to let them see you choosing to 'live with cancer' instead of 'dying with it! God bless you all for being you.'"William Forde: November 25th, 2017.

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November 24th, 2017.

24/11/2017

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Thought for today:
"'Someday, I would like to see the seven wonders of the world, go walking in the Pyrenees between France and Spain, eat a pizza in Sorrento, and feed the pigeons in Trafalgar Square, London. I would love to see Disney World and hold hands with Donald Duck and Micky Mouse as the three of us eat a big ice cream! Oh, if only I could do these things and visit those places, someday! If only?'


'But the doctor says that unless I am offered a heart replacement soon, visiting these places will remain nothing more than a dream. They will remain places I will never see. And unless I get a donor soon, there will be so much more I will never see. I won't even see my sixth birthday, which is only four months away!'


'It's just not fair! I'm only five and haven't been at First School long enough yet to take part in Sport's Day and run in a three-legged race or come first in the egg and spoon run. My form teacher, Miss Wigglesworth, who is the cleverest person in the whole wide world, and who knows everything, told our class she has so much to teach us, and that if she taught us all she knew, we'd be one hundred years old before we started to forget everything we'd ever learned!'


'Even my mummy and daddy don't smile as often as they used to and they are always talking secretly so I can't hear them. Often, when mummy walks me to school on a morning, she always has a little cry after she has seen me to the cloakroom and leaves me at my classroom door. She thinks I never see her cry alone, but I always do. Then, I also have a little cry before Miss Wigglesworth calls out our names in the morning roll call. Me and mummy would have been far better crying together; at least we could cuddle each other and tell each other what we are crying about!'


'My school friend, Bessie Braddock, told the class yesterday that her mummy is 'pregnant' and that she will soon have a baby brother to boss around. I don't know what 'pregnant' means, but I think it's when you have a fat tummy. I asked my mummy if I would ever have a baby brother, but she didn't know the answer. She just looked across at daddy and started to cry again.Then my daddy started to cry, and before long, all three of us were crying over nothing! If I ask Miss Wigglesworth, she'll tell me if I'll ever have a baby brother. Miss Wigglesworth is the cleverest person in the whole wide world and she knows everything.'


Please, have a heart by giving yours to someone else when you no longer need it. Give hope to someone, by giving them a new life; a life to one day see those places that I will never see and do those things I will never do. Please sign a donor card today. It may be too late for me, but there are other little girls and boys out there who are like me, and who deserve to do all those things, see all those places, and hold hands with a little brother. There are also mummies and daddies who also need a new heart. Please.... please don't sit on the fence a moment longer. Sign that donor card today!" William Forde: November 24th, 2017.
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November 23rd, 2017.

23/11/2017

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Thought for today:
"Curiosity is said to have killed the cat, stimulated the child to new discovery and ensured that the mind of mankind is always on the march of progress.
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Any creature who possesses the capacity to find beautiful growth in barren ground is most certainly a gardener of humanity. They are some who can see sunshine through the darkest clouds, find hope for the future in the crevices of another's smile, and discover possibilities in someone else's dream. It is from within the cracks of small hope and honest intent that souls are reborn and big changes in one's life are made, and a faith is found that does not wither in sight of possible failure.

When we are buttressed in a belief that will not weaken, our love for all life is forever present and our acceptance of all difference is better understood by the stranger. It is only then that mankind becomes the kind of person their God meant them to be, and the dream of a well-fed world of never-ending friendships becomes the reality of all.

When we see something that is sweet and soft struggling for life between the cracks of humanity, instead of thinking it 'out of place', we should feed and nourish it; make it feel more at home. To witness it displaced and ignored, or trampled underfoot, is nothing short of stopping the rotation of the earth's axis of love. " William Forde: November 23rd, 2017.
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November 22nd, 2017.

22/11/2017

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Thought for today:
"Parkinson's Law' states that work expands so as to fill the time available for its completion".

Also, if you build a door, someone will open it. If you erect a bridge, someone will cross it. If you construct an argument, someone will reason it. If you establish an order, someone will follow it.

All of the above could be said to be natural extensions to 'Parkinson's Law'. I recently experienced a new one to add to the list, which my wife's recent behaviour introduced me to.

Those of you who regularly read my 'Thought for today' will be aware that over the past three months Sheila and I have spent as many fine hours as we could get up at our allotment, close to our house. In consequence, much energy and a shed load of money have gone into giving it a complete facelift, ready for next spring.

Since the loss of our rough collie, Lady, last year, whenever my wife, Sheila, hasn't been in my arms, she's been up at our allotment planting, digging and weeding. Since the loss of our faithful dog, Sheila seems to have found a new creature, or should I say 'flock' of creatures upon whom to bestow her affection and largesse. I refer to visiting birds to our allotment. They grace its presence in their hundreds and thousands daily. It started off with about half a dozen regular visitors to the branches of our fruit trees three months ago and has since grown exponentially. Just in case the birds get lonely, a squirrel and a frog have also become daily visitors. Anyone would think that our little plot is currently being used as a background for the re-shooting of Alfred Hitchcock's horror film, 'Birds'.

My wife was amazed at the number of birds we were daily getting, and was scratching her head trying to figure out why our little plot should have become so blessed. I told her that she must have been exceptionally good of late and had done much good work to all manner of strangers in need, and had invited good karma into her life. Sheila liked this explanation and seemed perfectly content to cheerfully accept it unquestioningly as being Gospel. It was, after all, a perfect explanation, as anyone who truly knows my Sheila would be happy to also accept.

But, I have another theory that isn't one hundred miles away from 'Parkinson's Law'. About three months ago, before Sheila had become the magical Nanny to all the bird life in Haworth, she bought a small packet of bird seed and half a dozen bird tables which she positioned around the allotment. The week after, she bought two packets of birdseed; each packet twice as large as the small packet she'd bought on week one. Two packets weekly became four, and her contribution to the ongoing welfare of the birds became infinitely greater in a small matter of time.

The bird seed is now bought by the cwt, fills the large boot of our new car and comes in sacks instead of packets. Added to this shopping list are five loaves of bread weekly and three stones of Brazilian nuts from Waitrose, along with dozens of Sheila's home-made fat balls; which, incidentally, are bigger than the giant dumplings my mother used to make. Sheila always supplies plenty, just in case the usual bird visitor to our allotment decides to bring a friend, or worse still, tells a friend who then tells another friend, and they, another friend!

I don't want to spoil my wife's daily pleasure by appearing to denigrate her charitable cause, nor remove the shrine to St. Francis of Assisi (The patron saint to animals and the environment), that Sheila has hidden behind the rose bushes, but I would greatly appreciate it if she would acquaint herself with the principle of 'Parkinson's Law'.

I simply want Sheila to understand that were she to spend £10, £50, £100, £1000 or even £1 million every week on bird feed which she then put in our allotment, that once the news spread in the animal kingdom about the sudden appearance of a food mountain for birds and the recent arrival in Haworth of its own Mary Poppins, they'd be no stopping them swooping into our piece of heaven like a swarm of locust. No longer would we have that peaceful haven where a book could be read while a few birds twitter sweetly nearby. No longer would there be any point of planting fragrant blooms or nourishing herbs and veg, as all plant life would be eaten up by a dray of squirrels. They'd be little point of the sun ever coming out, were it to be blocked out by flocks of flying birds fighting for landing space. As for Sheila and I taking in the morning air as we leisurely strolled around our allotment hand-in-hand next spring, forget it! We won't be able to move an inch without treading on squirrel droppings and tons of bird shit!

Don't take my word for it, Sheila. If you don't believe me, ask Mr Parkinson!" William Forde: November 22nd, 2017.
https://youtu.be/KMggqNKTrfE

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November 21st, 2017.

21/11/2017

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Thought for today:
The young today will no doubt find it strange to learn that during previous centuries, people would have to walk miles with a jug in order to buy a quantity of milk for the family table. My mother used to tell me as I grew up that she walked a six-mile return journey each day to collect the milk for the family before she went to school. I don't know how much truth there was in this tale, given that Ireland has been an agricultural country since the early 1700's where the populace lived on potatoes, cabbage, milk and butter. Indeed, I find it hard to believe that anyone could stand at the rear door to their humble Irish dwelling without seeing a farm in the near distance. In later life, I came to accept that mum's six-mile daily trek was probably nearer one!

I remember the very first person one would hear a couple of hours before it was time to get up out of bed and get dressed for school was the milkman, whistling as he walked down the pathway and placing a couple of pints on the doorstep. I also recall being a youngster at school and getting free milk every morning break that I looked forward to and undoubtedly benefited from. It was a common occurrence for many a late-morning riser to discover their bottle of milk stolen from their doorstep if they got out of bed after half past eight.

As a young man in my late teens, it was crucially important that everyone who could legally get served alcohol in a pub could also down half a dozen pints before arriving at the Town Hall for their weekly dance, colloquially known as 'The Friday night fumble' or the 'Saturday night bust-up'. I never quite understood why, but Friday night at the Town Hall dance was all about getting the girls where they didn't want to be got, whereas Saturday nights was always about fighting another gang of lads from another Liversedge area.

Drinking the minimal amount of six pints of beer was the initiation test for membership to any Liversedge gang. It mattered not how many times a young man was sick in-between, as long as he had drunk six pints of the hard stuff to throw back up! As someone who could never keep down his alcohol, I would be heavily reliant on some of the drinking tips that my older workmates at 'Harrison Gardener's Mill' might give me. 'Never drink on an empty stomach, Bill', was the most tried and tested one, along with, 'To prepare for a night of heavy drinking with the lads, Bill, without being sick, always drink a pint of milk to line your stomach before you start the pub crawl from the Old Pack Horse on the Moorside, all the way down to 'The Commercial' in Cleckheaton!'

Milk and the drinking of it played a crucial part in my development from child to adult. Every child loves to get one over on stupid adults whenever they can and if they can get away with their crime, all the sweeter! One of my sneakiest tricks played on mum would occur whenever I was the first up on a morning in order to bring in the bottled milk from the doorstep. There was something about the taste of cream from the bottle top that tempted the taste buds of any self-respecting rebel. At first, I would carefully remove the silver-foiled top, and after drinking half the head of cream in the neck of the milk bottle, I would carefully replace the cap. Whenever I left the top too loose, mum would know that I'd been at the cream and give me 'what for.'

I was 7 or 8 years old before I noticed little pinprick holes in the tops of some uncapped milk bottles on people's doorsteps. I later learned that they had been caused by thieving birds pecking at the cream from the bottleneck. This newfound knowledge provided me with the ideal opportunity to engage in the 'perfect crime'; how to steal the cream head inside the bottles and get away with it by blaming the theft on another thief! A number of finely pricked holes by use of a sewing needle would enable me to suck out most of the cream while leaving the silk-foil top intact around the bottleneck. My usual response when bringing in the milk was, 'It looks like the birds have been at the cream again, Mum.' And on those occasions when I hadn't been able to get a small enough needle to prick with and used a much thicker knitting needle instead, I would blame it on a stray cat's claws.

It felt fair grand to be the first to taste the cream and get away with it!

When I consider my past, I am frequently obliged to accept that telling lies is a natural development of character in all delinquents. Being both older and wiser these days, I now know that telling a lie is an art in a lover, an accomplishment in a married man, and it becomes second nature to an author who needs to stretch the imagination of his readers in a bid to suspend their critical judgement." William Forde: November 21st, 2017.

https://youtu.be/LanCLS_hIo4
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November 20th, 2017.

20/11/2017

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Thought for today:
From all the soft toys that children love the most, the teddy bear has come out on top since the Victorian era. It matters not that they have hairy chests, big bellies, growl when their morning porridge isn't prepared by the time they rise, or are more loved by the young the older and more frayed  and bald they are; there's no doubt that girls love them to bits and need no persuasion in making them long-term bed partners they enjoy cuddling up to. Whether it is Paddington, Rupert, Bungle, Pudsey, Yogi, Baloo, or Winnie the Pooh, old fashion dolls and modern Barbies don't even get a look in when the bear is on the prowl. 


'Teddy Bear's Bed Time' : Copyright William Forde: November, 2015.

"If teddy bears could walk and talk, just think of all they'd say.
Just think of all the things they'd do and the places they would play.

There's more to life then to be a Steiff or have a buttoned ear,
Though I be worn and sometimes torn, I'm loved and that is clear."


William Forde: November 20th, 2017.

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November 19th, 2017.

19/11/2017

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​Thought for today:
"Being the richest man in the cemetery and occupying the biggest plot wouldn't mean anything to me and those I leave behind. What matters more to them when I am dead is knowing that I did something with my life when I lived; knowing that every now and then I made someone's day a bit happier, their life more meaningful and I often made them smile.

The biggest conundrum of character is knowing that having integrity matters; for if you have it, nothing else matters, and if you don't, nothing else matters! Everything else is just the sprinkles on your cappuccino. Knowing that there are times to 'accept' and times to 'resist' matters to the preservation of emotional energy, as well as knowing that the only 'good fight' is when you fight for something other than your own emotions and self-interest.

Learning early on in life that worry is a negative and wasteful form of energy that can only exist within currents of 'might-have-been dreams, will save you much heartache and hurt. Rivers of remorse can but overflow with ripples of regret and can never find the channel to happiness and contentment. While worry will never stop it raining tomorrow, it can keep one from feeling sunny today. Acquiring the approval of others is often made to matter too much in the satisfaction stakes of self-acceptance. At worst, this activity has the potential to denigrate truth and at best it depletes our honest intent. It will always matter that people feel they can love and be loved in return. Know, however, that their love for you will be more enduring when it is given, not for who you are, but how you make them feel.

It also matters that opposites can both attract and repel if wider humanity and greater diversity are to be preserved. To be human infers that one is constantly in the grip of opposing emotions and is obliged daily to reconcile apparently conflicting tensions.

One is never too young to teach, too old to learn, too insensitive to care, too poor to give, too incapacitated to help, too ignorant to understand, too distant to feel, too deaf to hear, too blind to see or too insignificant to matter. However great or small the world seeks to make us, we all matter!

When all the water has been drained from the cooking pot, it is the substance that is left what matters most. You matter. I matter. We matter! Nature, nurture and God matter when it comes to feeding body, mind and soul! Not all children will know their 'Twelve Times Table' on the day they begin their attendance at First School, but every child will instinctively know that every rabbit needs a hole, every person needs a home and every creature needs a hug." William Forde: November 19th, 2017.
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November 18th, 2017.

18/11/2017

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​Thought for today:
"Children find all aspects of nature fascinating and all manner of activity fun in the making, whether it be jumping in puddles, having mud baths, chasing rainbows or making a wish to a full moon in the dark of night.They are fascinated by all creatures large and small, particular creatures with wings, whether fictional or factual. They love slimy snakes and other reptiles that slither through the long grass and squeezing fat frogs until their eyes bulge from their sockets. They delight in the touch of sticking their finger into a wobbly jelly or tasting the remains of sticky baking dough after mum has been making buns. And who else but a child would ever seek to scrape out a jam jar with a spoon not long enough to reach the bottom, or love the environment while refusing to eat their greens without protest.

Watching a blacksmith shoe a horse makes children cringe in fearful anticipation as the nails are hammered into the hoof, and fattening a goose up for the Christmas dinner table is the most cardinal sin of all. While most children love all manner of pet creature, boys have a particular fondness for rats with long tails who are known to make friends so easily with any human who is prepared to house them in their shirt pocket and hold them close to their chest. Boys also love the look of shock they can produce upon the face of innocent girls whenever they take out their pet rat from beneath their clothes and swing it in front of their noses.

The thing that fascinates me most about children is their capacity to trust all manner of things strange and their willingness to interact with it within minutes of first acquaintance, as though they'd been lifelong friends. Children live in a world of magic that adults once had but lost. They find astonishment in all they see because they relish and nurture surprise, just like witnessing a caterpillar inside a matchbox turn into a butterfly. They seek magic in the stolen moments that others have abandoned. Children can still feel that a magician's trick is magical, even when they know how it's done, and feeling a hidden baby in-the-making inside mum's pregnant tummy is the most magical experience of all! When they ask, 'How will it get out, Mum', and she replies,'The same way it got in!' their height of inquisitiveness is readily satisfied with this wonder of the world.

If only adults could harness the magic of a child for the benefit of mankind, the world would turn more smoothly on an axis of love and spin in eternal optimism.We would then be able to refashion the world today through the indiscriminate eyes of a child's innocence, employing their thoughts of purity and hearts of compassion in all we did. We would establish a humane code of conduct to last until the end of time and lay down expectations that all would willingly subscribe to and follow.

Only in the innocent heart and reasoning of a child do we find the most perfect pyramid of priority, which is to first feed, house, clothe and protect every man woman and child on the planet before going out to play!" William Forde: November 18th, 2017.
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November 17th, 2017.

17/11/2017

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Thought for today:
"One thing common among loved ones, especially lifelong partners, is the capacity to irritate by small action. As a Probation and Court Welfare Officer for twenty-five years between 1971-1996, I frequently needed to engage in mediation work between married couples who were on the brink of seeking a divorce. At the time, the law required that anyone seeking a divorce would first have to spend x hours in mediation, to see if their marriage could be saved before the process of divorce became final.

As a general rule, by the time mediation was applied within the court process, the marriage of the couple was effectively over, and both simply wanted to move on with their lives. Yet, they were being prevented from doing so until they had jumped this last legal fence that the divorce court required.

Consequently, when the mediation process commenced, everyone concerned knew that the court was attempting to breathe life back into a dead parrot, yet, going through this process of possible reconciliation at the time was compulsory if a couple wanted a 'divorce absolute' granting.

I can still remember these mediation sessions that I adjudicated over and before the first session commenced between the parties, we all knew that the presence of man and wife was no more than a perfunctory and meaningless gesture. They were there to jump the required fences and collect their divorce certificate at the end of the race. Naturally, knowing that the solicitors on both sides would make use of any dirt that one party dished out against the other, the couple in the enforced mediating session 'let rip'. They would introduce into the session everything bad that the other person had done wrong over their years of marriage, plus numerous things they'd never done!

It is a self-evident truth that whenever one marriage partner is filling a marital dustbin of bile against their spouse, the other marriage partner does not simply sit idly by without throwing lots of muck into the marriage cesspit also! It was usually at this stage of the mediation session that every accusation in the book would be made against the other marriage partner, such as, 'For ten years while I was playing the faithful wife and dutiful mother, he was having it off every Wednesday with my best friend behind my back!' or 'She pretends to have tried, but she has always loved the bottle more than me or the children!'

Wild accusations would be flung across the floor of my office like confetti at a much welcome funeral; nothing seemed to be beyond marital accusation as each tried to make the other wholly responsible for a marriage breakup that could never be put back together again. Accusations like wife beating, serial affairs, alcoholism, drug taking, DHSS forgery and even incest would be made; everything wicked about the other person would be dredged up and made up, in the hope that the mediation officer reporting back to court would be obliged to conclude that 'the couple's marriage had irretrievably broken down and that all mediation attempts had failed'. The married couple wanting a divorce had got what they wanted and the poor taxpayer had been left with a heftier bill than reason could ever justify!

As I was writing this post today, it got me thinking about those small things within a marriage that one person does or in some instances, doesn't do; little things that don't have the capacity to send one running to the divorce lawyers, but instead constantly irks and irritates like a 'seven year itch'. You all know what I mean: things like always leaving the lavatory seat down, male dribbling in the bathroom, dirty knickers not put in the wash basket, all the wardrobe space taken up by numerous female coats, shoes and dresses that this country will never provide the season to wear, leaving the sauce bottle cap off the ketchup so the bottleneck is always gungy, or making rude noises in polite company and scratching one's bum at social gatherings in your mother-in-law's house etc.etc.

I then started to think about my own marriage to Sheila. After much thought, the three things I managed to come up with were as follows: First is having her side of the kitchen table piled so high with papers, books and documentation that I hardly see her throughout the day, although I'm less than a foot away, working at the other side of this mountainous obstruction. My second irritation would be Sheila leaving the cellar light on all day. Her excuse for wasting this energy resource is, 'As I'm always up and down the cellar throughout her day, it would be foolish of me to turn off the light and turn it back on again a few minutes later!' However, my biggest bug is one that has no rhyme or reason whatsoever. It is leaving a particular kitchen cupboard door open all day long and never closing it. Indeed, I can honestly say that not once in the five years we've been married have I seen this cupboard door closed when not in use, and all because of my fair maiden's rationale that, 'she will want to open it again....sometime next week!'

It may seem such a small thing to cause so much irritation to a thick-skinned man like myself, but each time Sheila engages in one of these little things that irk, it's like her pinching my skin and saying, 'Go on then! If you want the mediation officer to adjudicate in our marriage, go get him!'

What little things irritate you about your partner's behaviour. Go on; tell all!" William Forde: November 17th, 2017
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November 16th, 2017

16/11/2017

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​Thought for today:
"Most people think that one is born with innate abilities that make one a classical artist, another a concert pianist, and another a genetic scientist or accomplished writer. I don't know if there is any truth in this, but what I do know is that any skill I have acquired as a writer wasn't inherited at birth; I had to work at it!

I never thought of myself as a writer when my first book was published 27 years ago. I knew I was no Hemingway. Had anyone asked me then what I was about I would have genuinely told them that I was a social crusader who was masquerading as a writer; because that is what I was? I wanted to bring about social change in my life and sphere of work and I believed that the written word was a powerful tool to influence the mind, and if constructed in a certain way, I could gain access to my reader's imagination and hidden feelings.

Oh yes, I could always tell a good story, and when I think about it, 'writing a good story' is merely an added dimension to 'telling one.' If I inherited any innate skill that assists my writing, it was my openness to honestly express my feelings and to boldly use my vivid imagination. I suppose I had my Irish mother to thank for that.

I don't believe that I was a great writer then or that I am a great writer now. I do believe that I am a better and more accomplished writer than I ever was and I know I now possess more ability than I ever had to make my words flow more easily into feeling messages that match the ideas in the heads of others.

If people knew how hard I work to gain my mastery, my skills would not seem so wonderful at all. If they could but see me perform my tasks over and over again until my soul is satisfied, they would know that without the constant practice of my art that I would never be called artisan of my trade. Each display of any accomplishment I have is merely the production of maintained enthusiasm and earnest endeavour.

While there is undoubtedly unique skills in the performance and accomplishments of everyone, nothing succeeds better than hard work and practise, practise, practise." William Forde: November 16th, 2017
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November 15th, 2017.

15/11/2017

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​ Thought for today:
"Who among us can ever forget that very first time we saw the seaside as a child and looked out in wonder across the vast horizon? Isn't it simply marvellous how a child not yet attending school, possesses the imagination to project their thoughts into the future in the most positive of ways, thinking about the things they may one day do and the places they hope to see, when we clever adults who think we know so much about the world cannot see beyond our nose ends nor dream beyond our everyday experiences. We are unfortunately educated beyond our understanding and generally become adults who know so little about so much.

There is so much we can learn from our young. We can learn about the value of having a close friend to whom we can talk to whenever worried.We can learn from their innate instinct to trust the people they love, their innocence of truthful expression, their refusal to distinguish the worth of one person to that of another based on differences between the two and their instinctive gut reaction to know what is just and unjust. We would do well to observe their imagination of all things being possible and most important of all, marvel at their ability to jump in puddles for no other reason that there is a puddle in front of them waiting to be jumped in! Children wait not for life's events to come along and take them down this road or that; they chose the path their heart dictates during their magic of the moment, and more often than not they find pleasure and contentment along the way.

It behoves all adults, therefore, to preserve the purity of the child if we are to remain close to all that is good and wholesome. The ultimate measure of any worthwhile society is how it treats, respects and protects its young.

The next time we look out to sea, view with the eyes of a child, not an adult and see the magic beyond the fringe of the sea. See instead the giant caterpillars eating ice-cream cornets, lollipop trees in woods of wobbly jelly waiting to be licked and wizards with noses as long as a cricket bat." William Forde: November 15th, 2017
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November 14th, 2017.

14/11/2017

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Thought for today:
                       'Black is Beautiful' by William Forde

'Think of me as you will, but let me tell you that there is a beauty in all things black that no white person will ever know.
Our history has taken us to places far and wide, that no white man will ever go.
We couldn't drink, wash or eat out in 'All white' places, and never did feel free,
The only place that we found peace, was hanging from a tree.

Now look at you, then look at me, and tell me who you'd choose to be
had you not been born on the other side of false sincerity?'


Copyright William Forde: November14th, 2017.


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November 13th, 2017.

13/11/2017

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​Thought for today:
"To share with one's neighbour is the best of all gifts to bestow, and when that includes allowing one's adversary to drink from the same bowl, the milk of human kindness surely runneth over the expectation of all mean-minded.

Being brought up the eldest of seven children in a household where the family food for this week would be paid for from my father's next week's wage, was the normal practice for most poor households on the estate where we lived and the times that we lived in. In many ways, it took the hardship experienced by the war years to grow calluses on the skin of all those who lived through the 30's, 40's and 1950's. It was during these decades that most sensible people knew that the survival of all the community would only be achieved if we all pulled together and shared the little we each had. In the home where I grew up with my six brothers and sisters, cooperation was required to get through every day from dawn until dusk. When seven arrive at the breakfast table on a morning to find there is only food enough to adequately feed no more than four or five, sharing becomes a part of early learning that proves a necessity to one's survival. Our regular attendance at church as a family and our schooling was to teach us that sharing was necessary to the survival of one's soul. In short, we learned that in all application of life, sharing is the most necessary and rewarding of all experiences.

Today, things have changed significantly. Too often, mankind's concern for what little others may or not have tends to stop at the boundaries of one's doorstep. It is as though the fear of austerity has led us to put up a picket fence around our hearts. Imagine the wastefulness and wanton cruelty of being the only person with a lit candle in pitch darkness, and not allowing others to share your light?

What does it matter if a person has more than they could ever earn or spend in ten lifetimes, yet has no one to share it with? We may make a living through what we get, but we get a life through what we give! I recall a lay preacher in Canada telling his audience that we are happiest when we do the most we can for others. He believed that one's wealth and abundance was not measured by what we had, but by what we shared with our fellow man. My own dear mother, who would share her last penny with another of greater need, wholeheartedly lived by the expressed sentiment of the American poet and civil rights activist, Maya Angelou who said, 'When we give cheerfully and accept gratefully, everyone is blessed.'

Between 1989 and 2005, I personally visited and held assemblies in over two thousand Yorkshire schools. Of all the lessons I witnessed being taught to the young primary school pupils by their teachers in a bid to prepare them for future life, the most important wasn't maths or English, or any other academic subject on the educational curriculum; it was how to give to others in the world less fortunate than ourselves and in greater need. Rarely did I visit a primary school during all these years without seeing the children being encouraged to save their pennies or earn money 'to give away to more needy causes.' Through their instruction, the teachers of our young today are doing their best work by enabling the children in their charge to become the good person they were created to be.


Joy multiplies when it is shared with others." William Forde: November 13th, 2017.eek would be paid for from next week's, as yet, unearned wage of my father, was the normal practice for most poor households on the estate where we lived and the times that we lived in. In many ways, it took the hardship experienced by the war years to grow calluses on the skin of all those who lived through the 30's, 40's and 1950's. It was during these decades that most sensible people knew that the survival of all the community would only be achieved if we all pulled together and shared the little we each had. In the home where I grew up with my six brothers and sisters, cooperation was required to get through every day from dawn until dusk. When seven arrive at the breakfast table on a morning to find there is only food enough to adequately feed no more than four or five, sharing becomes a part of early learning that proves a necessity to one's survival. Our regular attendance at church as a family and our schooling was to teach us that sharing was necessary to the survival of one's soul. In short, we learned that in all application of life, sharing is the most necessary and rewarding of all experiences.

Today, things have changed significantly. Too often, mankind's concern for what little others may or not have stops at the boundaries of one's doorstep. It is as though the fear of austerity has led us to put up a picket fence around our hearts. Imagine the wastefulness and wanton cruelty of being the only person with a lit candle in pitch darkness, and not allowing others to share your light?



What does it matter if a person has more than they could ever earn or spend in ten lifetimes, yet has no one to share it with? We may make a living through what we get, but we get a life through what we give! I recall a lay preacher in Canada telling his audience that we are happiest when we do the most we can for others. He was of the belief that one's wealth and abundance was not measured by what we had, but by what we shared with our fellow man. My own dear mother, who would share her last penny with another of greater need, wholeheartedly lived by the expressed sentiment of the American poet and civil rights activist, Maya Angelou who said, 'When we give cheerfully and accept gratefully, everyone is blessed.'

Between 1989 and 2005, I personally visited and held assemblies in over two thousand Yorkshire schools. Of all the lessons I witnessed being taught to the young primary school pupils by their teachers in a bid to prepare them for future life, the most important wasn't maths or English, or any other academic subject on the educational curriculum; it was how to give to others in the world less fortunate than ourselves and in greater need. Rarely did I visit a primary school during all these years without seeing the children being encouraged to save their pennies or earn money 'to give away to more needy causes.' Through their instruction, the teachers of our young today are doing their best work by enabling the children in their charge to become the good person they were created to be. 

Joy multiplies when it is shared among others." William Forde: November 13th, 2017.

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November 12th 2017.

12/11/2017

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Thought for today:
​"On Boxing Day 2016, I fell seriously ill and was admitted into Airedale Hospital on the most crowded day of the year. Indeed, the waiting for admittance was so long that I was on a stretcher in the Emergency Department for nine/ten hours before I was allocated a bed.

After many tests and x-rays etc, it was discovered that my terminal cancer had transformed itself into another and more aggressive cancer and it would have been too late to act had its discovery been a few weeks later. Another six months of chemotherapy treatment was planned when my body was strong enough to withstand the treatment.

Over the next three/four weeks I twice came close to death and without mine or my wife's knowledge, I had a 'Do not resuscitate' placed on my medical file (which we later discovered that the hospital has the legal right to do without discussing the matter with you or your family in certain circumstances).

Eventually, I was placed on an acute 'end of life' ward where I remained for a further month before I improved enough to be discharged and to receive chemotherapy as an outpatient.

As I  entered the acute side ward which held another three critically ill men and myself (each of which had terminal conditions), I noticed that two of them were asleep and the third man, called Alan, was sitting up in his bed and looking worried. Being polite I introduced myself. 'Hello there, I'm Bill and I'm pleased to meet you,' I said.
'It won't be for too long!' came the abrupt reply as Alan added, 
 'My consultant has just told me that I've only got another 14 days to live at the most, and I haven't had the chance to tell my wife yet!'

Naturally, this reply knocked me off guard. I later learned that the patient in the bed to my right had two months left to live and that the third patient in the ward had one month left and was going home to die before the end of the week. At that precise moment, I felt the presence of the Grim Reaper lurking about outside the ward, waiting to come and tap me on the shoulder also. I asked a nurse to close the door; I wasn't ready to see him yet!

A few weeks before I was well enough to be discharged from hospital and after Alan had died, I started to outline a new novel to write. I decided to call my latest romantic story, 'Fourteen Days.' Between my last hospital discharge and July of this year, I received some more chemotherapy treatment, and after Sheila and I holidayed in Cornwall, I have had four good months, many of which I have spent in our allotment with Sheila.

About three months ago, it dawned on me that this was the first year since 1990 when I hadn't written a book for publication, so I determined that I would write the story I had partly sketched out in the hospital, way back in February. I can now inform you all that book has been written and was published on my 75th birthday. It is written under my 'Tales from Portlaw' series of romantic stories and is available to be purchased in e-book format from Kindle and www.smashwords.com or in hard copy from www.lulu.com and www.amazon.com and www.amazon.uk  with all profit going to charitable causes in perpetuity.

The story is about falling in love with another man's lover while he lays dying in a bed across the ward from you. Thank God for my mother's powers of imagination that I must have inherited.
In the New year, I will make this story freely available to read on my website as I have the other eleven 'Tales from Portlaw' stories." William Forde :November 12th 2017.

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/758442

http://www.lulu.com/shop/william-forde/tales-from-portlaw-volume-12-fourteen-days/paperback/product-23404141.html

https://www.amazon.com./s/ref=nb_sb_noss/147-7713552-5519709?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=william+forde+fourteen+days

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November 11th, 2017.

11/11/2017

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Thought for today:

Thought for today:
"It would be remiss of me not to begin today's post by failing to thank all of you who congratulated Sheila and me yesterday upon our 5th wedding anniversary and my 75th birthday. Your good wishes were greatly appreciated by us both, along with the fact that you remembered.

Today is 'Remembrance Day' which marks the anniversary of the day that the 'First World War' ended. We owe so much to those brave soldiers who gave up their lives to fight for the freedom we now enjoy, and when I see so many people wearing the poppy today, it makes me so glad that they remembered also, those brave men in their millions whose action defending our country in two world wars provided every man, woman and child with those freedoms we enjoy today and sadly sometimes take for granted.

I never knew anyone who fought in the 'First World' but my passion for reading British history over my lifetime has lead me to read about heroic exploits by men and women of the time who rarely spoke of their deeds. This was an age where men and women did what they had to do without shouting about it. They just got stuck in, got on with the task at hand, and when it was done, they got on with the next thing to do without resting on their laurels. In the quietness of their souls where it matters, all combatants knew there was no glory in bragging about the number of enemies they killed on the battlefield. They knew that there was no celebration to be had in the death of any man, and when the war had ended, the greatest respect they could pay to their brave comrades who fell by their side was 'to remember' what they had fought for.

Today's post concerns my own account of 'The Second World War' through the experiences of England, its capital city and a single woman and her soldier sweetheart whose planned future was not to be.

During the 1990's, it became the official policy of national educational guidance for school teachers not to teach their pupils about the two world wars, in the misguided belief that to do so might be viewed by the non-British person as 'glorifying' war and our part in it. A retired Yorkshire school teacher, who had been a war veteran and then aspired to become a Headmaster was so disgusted with this school policy that he used some of his pension to fund a limited-edition publication of a book that he commissioned me to write which gave an account of war events and British bravery. Believing that no soldier should die for his country without the children in later years learning what he had died for, I readily agreed. The book I wrote was 'Butterworth's Brigade' and it was highly praised at the time. It is told from the perspective of young eyes.

I also wanted to tell children about London and the Blitz and so I wrote a book called, 'Robin and the Rubicelle Fusiliers'. The story is about a Jewish family living in London and their son, Robin, who becomes one of the many wartime evacuees at the time. The actress, Prunella Scales, praised this book as being an accurate account of the times it portrayed and read from this book in our Yorkshire schools on a number of occasions with her husband, Timothy West.

My dear late friend and mother substitute, Etta Denton, whom I looked after like a son for the final ten years of her life, lived half her life looking after a bedridden mother and being under the guidance of a highly strict father. Etta fell in love with Bill but they had to keep all knowledge of their relationship with each other from her father, mother and older brother. When Bill went off to war, the couple planned to marry on his return. Sadly, Bill never returned from the battlefields. His body was buried in an unmarked grave abroad, and as a spinster who had never been officially engaged to her soldier sweetheart, Etta was left to carry her grief alone until her death in her 94th year of life. Apart from one close friend of Etta's who knew of her soldier sweetheart, only Etta was left to remember the love they shared and the dream they lost.

I stayed in Etta's house caring for her night and day during the last few weeks of her life. Just before she died, Etta told me about her secret love and asked me to get her a book from her Georgian reading cabinet downstairs. I returned with the book and being too weak to open it, she then asked me to open it at a certain page for her. Inside, was a pressed flower that her sweetheart soldier Bill had given her before he went off to war to fight for the freedom of future generations. After Etta died, as I arranged her funeral, I ensured that her precious pressed flower was buried with her. I also wrote a poem about her love for Bill and the life they planned when he returned from battle.

Both books mentioned in this post are available in e-book format from www.smashwords.com or in hard copy from www.lulu.com and www.amazon.com with all profits going to charitable causes. The poem I wrote for Etta and Bill is called 'Arthur and Guinevere' and can be accessed freely from my website. My dear friend, Vera Lynn praised the poem:
http://www.fordefables.co.uk/arthur--guinevere.html

​We shall not forget." William Forde: November 11th, 2017.


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November 10th, 2017.

10/11/2017

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Thought for today:
"Today is a day for double celebration. It is my 75th birthday and it also mine and Sheila's 5th wedding anniversary. Given all that has happened to me health-wise since my eleventh year of life when a large wagon ran over me and wrapped my body around its drive shaft, I would never have imagined that I'd ever reach 75 years of age. Given that I have been a man who has lived, loved and lost on a number of occasions in my life, to then go on and 'hit the jackpot' as I approached my eighth decade was simply unbelievable. That I would ever have been so lucky as to win the heart of the purest, kindest, unselfish, most beautiful women on God's fair earth at a time when retirement from romantic pursuit beckoned, is the best reason anyone could ever need to 'never give up!'

All my life, if ever any couple told me that they had disagreed but never argued I wouldn't have believed them. Although we are only five years into marriage, that assertion is true for us. Perhaps we haven't been wed long enough yet to experience this aspect of fading relationship, and if my terminal illness has anything to do with it, we never might never even get to the 'huff and puff' fall out stage, let alone beyond!

With all the truth in the world that I possess, I can honestly declare that I have never in the whole of my life been happier in the presence of one person than I am today with my wife, Sheila.

At the heart of life lie the relationships we have with other people; all special in their own way, but none so special for any man than the relationships he shares with the women in his life: his mother, sisters, sweethearts, wife and daughters.

The relationship one has with one's true love and soul mate, however, can never be surpassed. It is the very embodiment of mind, heart and soul, fused eternally when two chemical substances unite in lasting collision and transform the two into one shared moment of perfect existence. Finding our soul mate allows us to unpack all emotional luggage and to take off our masks that we once feared we could not live without, but now know we can no longer live within.

Every time I look at Sheila, I fall in love with her all over again. It is true that our last love is our best love and is the most enduring of loves. A very happy fifth wedding anniversary sweetheart. Bill x" William Forde: November 10th, 2017.

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November 9th, 2017.

9/11/2017

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Thought for today:
"I once recall walking down the fields near the estate where I lived one summer's day with a few friends during the long school holidays.We were aged 9/10 at the time and would make bows and arrows with which to have battles. We obviously had little regard for our own personal safety at the time in the games we played, as the tip of every arrow would have a dart inserted. Half-way towards a wood we were walking to, where we planned to acquire straight stems of willow that could be used to fashion arrows, we passed a sheep that had got its head stuck between a boundary fence of barbed wire. Naturally, we freed the poor creature and I can still see it run back to the rest of the flock bleating as though it was yesterday.

It was so natural to respond as we did then in 1952.To see any creature who is trapped and removed from the benefit of their family and natural resources is too bad a situation to see unaltered as one passes by and continues to go about their daily lives. Imagine therefore, what it must be like for any other trapped creature to experience that however many others see them in their struggle for freedom, they will all walk by without lifting one hand to ease and assist their plight?

It is very hard for any poor parent to raise children today. How much harder, therefore, is it for a mum or dad to see their children constantly sick, scared and starving and know that there is little hope of a better tomorrow? To look at a parent who is forced to live in rubble-surroundings and put their children to bed nightly in a war zone where gunfire can be heard from dawn to dusk is to see a creature who is prepared to jump through any gap that offers instant freedom for themselves and family. And yet, travelling through continents barefoot and hungry, crossing perilous seas in overcrowded crafts that sink more often than get to shore, all in the certain knowledge that should you as a family somehow survive, you will most likely be unwelcome immigrants; all this risk is better than staying put and doing nothing!

When next tempted to think unkindly upon those who choose to migrate to greener pastures when their land grows barren and denies access to only the most powerful, privileged and wealthy, think how you would act were you in their situation before you start to apportion blame. This is not to argue against Brexit, which I wholeheartedly support, or to fail to recognise that we are a small country with a total land acreage that cannot possibly sustain 'unmanaged' migration any longer. It is simply to try to shift the blame away from such a parent deciding to up roots and leave the land where they live when times become too hard and too dangerous for them and their family to stay.

For it is the most natural part of any parent to seek improvement for their offspring where it can be found. To do any less is to neglect the children one brings into the world and to ignore their persistent hunger, fear and suffering. In many ways, such migrants are the new pioneers of the New Millennium and we are the hostile natives protecting our land and sacred burial sites from all newcomers." William Forde: November 9th, 2017.

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November 8th, 2017.

8/11/2017

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Thought for today:
"When our outward actions mirror the thoughts and feelings of our inner souls, only then are we being true to ourselves and keep faith with the world around us. It is one of life's self-evident truths that mankind cannot live happily in isolation, without the capacity and opportunity to love. To love self and others, besides having others love us in return, is essential to feeling a worthwhile human being.

The 18th century English writer and essayist, Samuel Johnson said, 'Life cannot subsist in society but by reciprocal concessions.' When we look at how we function and how society manages to get things done in an orderly fashion, we discover the true significance of reciprocity. Imagine a large crowd of people in the London Underground at the end of the working week, each one eager to get home and put their feet up. It seems impossible at first glance to see thousands of people rushing in all directions like busy bees, without colliding every moment and accidentally shoving someone beneath an arriving train on the overcrowded platform. Thanks to reciprocity, however, a bit of give and take as they approach each other enables each person to instinctively step aside as required, thereby allowing the other person to continue on their way unhindered.

Love is a condition to which the happiness of another person is essential to our own. Love signifies the importance of 'sharing', of giving and receiving. It helps to keep one's account with our fellow being in the black. It is perhaps the most beautiful of human compensation, for it is impossible to help another without benefiting oneself. Reciprocity forms the basis of all social relationships. When we cooperate with others we discover that others are more likely to cooperate with us. Even in our love life and our relationships with significant others, reciprocity becomes the banker of our emotional investments; the basic currency of our dealings with each other.

It is both unwise and represents bad judgement to ever treat another person less than oneself. It makes no sense to make bad Karma; to destroy the very principle through which social influence is believed to operate. In order to receive what we want, we give out what we need.

Every person we ever meet is a mirror of reciprocity's truth. Just as a loving person lives in a loving world, a hostile person lives in a hostile world. If you like people and get on with them easily and naturally, then people will naturally like you and you will become ever popular. If on the other hand, you are suspicious of strangers and are uncomfortable in their presence, then they will naturally be uncomfortable in your company.

​It is far better for one to live in the knowledge that they have been created in the image of God, and to do everything we do in the knowledge it will eventually become known. You will be and do as others naturally see you; expressing outwardly what is reflected inwardly. You will be and do as it says on the tin; a good egg all round!" William Forde: November 8th, 2017.
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November 7th, 2017.

7/11/2017

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Thought for today:
'Whatever our abilities, whatever our experiences, the very best that any of us can achieve in this life can be summed up thus: 'start where you are, use what you have and do what you can!'

For our start in life, we have our God and parents for bringing us into this beautiful world. Hence our mainspring for the development of our character comes from our values and our earliest experiences. When we are a happy person, it is not unusual for either God or our parents to remain cornerstones to anything we build in our lives. They are repeatedly erected in all we think, feel and do throughout our day. They speak to us again and again in our daily tasks, through the way we do them, the motive behind our efforts and our degree of satisfaction in their accomplishment. Never a day or night goes by when neither whispers in my ear to guide me. Believe me when I tell you that not only is every person's dream valid; they are the touchstone of one's character. In the immortal words of William Shakespeare, 'We are such stuff that dreams are made of.'

As we grow from childhood to adolescence, through to adulthood and old age, our dreams become buckets of hope in our list of earthly aspirations; to do well at school, get a good job, find an ideal marriage partner who becomes our lifelong soul mate, and for some of us, to parent children. Chief among such aspirations for most of us will invariably be to find an ideal partner and lifelong soul mate. I would like to say that such a lucky prize will fall into our laps through fate alone, but I suspect that destiny finds its way to one's door with some guidance and a push along its journey!

As a child, I would have the most vivid of dreams in technicolour. My dreams were adventurous in my early childhood, mischievous by the time I'd reached twelve years of age and increasingly romantic throughout my mid-teens. By the age of twenty-one, nothing less than wicked could accurately describe them!

My mother used to tell me, 'Billy, your dreams are only thoughts you didn't have time to think about during the day. They are things you might have wanted to do but didn't. Always follow your dream.'

In a way, I always followed my mother's advice, whether knowingly or unknowingly. I have always believed that dreams are made to be lived. I have always believed that the future belongs to those who possess the courage to pursue their dreams. As I age and see more and more unhappy people occupy human space on our planet, I can see that the unhappy person is often the person who allowed regret to take the place of their dreams. I do genuinely believe that when we remain true to the dreams of our youth, we grow old gracefully and gladly.

My sincere advice, therefore, is to always to follow your dream, for your dreams can show you the way to achieving your inner desires. They can enable you to live in a world where future and dreams meet to form the reality of precious moments.

Returning to our greatest dream of meeting true love and accompanying it into our old age, it is wise to remember that a dream alone often remains but a dream, whereas a dream you dream together with your soul mate becomes reality.

Love is our one true destiny and our one eternal pleasure. It is greatly lessened when it is not shared, was never shared or can no longer be shared with a soul mate. I long ago learned that we do not discover the meaning to life alone: we need others to relate to, to bounce off, with whom to communicate and share, a significant other half who is there to add sense and purpose to our very existence.

​Just as life and God, life and Nature, life with family and friends, and life and other human contact are indivisible, so is life and close love with a significant other. Once we find our soul mate, once we find love in each other's arms, there is no further need to dream as you are the very dream you live." William Forde: November 7th, 2017.
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November 6th, 2017.

6/11/2017

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"Today is a good day for me. It is not because I am picking up our new car I feel so good, but because I have so many more important things to feel good and be grateful for.

My year started off badly for me when I fell seriously ill on Boxing Day, having developed a new and more aggressive terminal cancer than the one I already had, necessitating a two-month hospital stay as an inpatient; almost dying twice, followed by another eight bouts of chemotherapy as an outpatient until July.

Since midsummer, however, we managed to get a lovely holiday in Cornwall and I have spent many hours up at our allotment, which we have started to get back in ship shape. It's nice at the allotments in the fresh air and surrounded by the person in the world whom I most love; my lovely wife, Sheila.It also does me the power of good not being around people, as I am able to mix with any number of plant life without catching fatal human bugs such as a simple cold, having no immune system. Indeed, I don't mind having to talk to my flowers. My son, William and his partner, Josephine, who live in Australia, have recently spent a few weeks with us in Haworth. His muscle up at the allotments laying new curb and paving stones has been of enormous help.

We are setting off to pick up our new Peugeot 3008 in five minutes, but to tell the truth (and not wishing to sound ungrateful), however nice it appears at first view, it nevertheless remains just another 'thing' that can never match up to a flower in bloom, a home-grown potato in the cooking pot, the memory of smashing summer holiday and a happy few weeks catching up with my son. And most of all, having a beautiful wife and soul mate at one's side:

'Give me a life I dare embrace.
Give me dreams that I can see.
Grant me freedom from all need.
Cast not a shadow over me.
I need no change if I can pay,
nor savings for a rainy day.
Sheila, all I need is you.'
Copyright: William Forde: November 6th, 2017.
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