Blog Archives - FordeFables

December 31st, 2013

31/12/2013

"Thought for today:
"Tonight is New Year's Eve, that time of year which brings so much sadness and so much happiness in equal measure to soul mates who are lost and sweethearts who are loved. Those in love rejoice the year to come while those who lost love regret the passing of their unrealised dreams. Then there are those who have not yet tasted love, yet hope to find it in their field of dreams. Let us hope that they discover their dance of romance in the music of the New Year and that the partner they take to the floor for their first dance becomes their dancing partner for the remainder of their life." William Forde: December 31st, 2013.

December 30th, 2013

30/12/2013

Thought for today: (For those who have lost their loved one and soul mate and feel the solitude of separation).
"As others around me look forward to the New Year to come, all I can find myself thinking of are days now over, never to return. I pray that our parting at least brings you peace of mind and a future, my love.

Be not like me. Do not regret days past that were filled with endless doubt, my love. Savour those precious moments that we shared in happier times? For lest I know that you still think kindly of what I once was, nothing is worthy of thought or existence anymore and all else is but a void of desperation and eternal desolation in a world that's damned.

There is an emptiness in my heart that weighs me in permanent ache and a vacancy in my soul that cannot be filled again since my soul mate in love left it painfully bereft. It is my thought of days to come that now wounds me to the quick and leaves me in a state of mortal wretchedness. I am desolate in my despair and my heart is trapped in a coil of barbed wire that will never again release itself to another. Such thoughts of days without your smell, smile and touch lacerate the roots of lost romance with bloody tears. Send me your rose of red remembrance so that I may smell your touch once more and feel the splendour of your bewitching smile that gently picked and wrapped it within a bouquet of passion that still stirs my senses.

Now that you are no longer by my side, my love, I have never felt so abandoned and alone. I want no others in my life and have lost all feeling for earthly pleasures or times to come. Nothing new surprises me anymore because there isn't anything that is spontaneous; everything is either planned or expected. My fond memories, now spoiled by your absence, have smothered my sensibilities and choked all pleasure from my mind. I care not for either start or end of any day or night, and all the rest of time is nowt but misery in the making and want in its waiting." William Forde: December 30th, 2013.

December 29th, 2013

29/12/2013

Thought for today:
"There is nothing so wild as beauty unleashed from its chains; nothing so beautiful as a thing so wild wanting to run free that is no longer bound to the chains of social constraint.

Place not your anchor in the harbour of splendid isolation for your beauty was never meant by its Maker to remain unseen or unadored. Instead become determined to make your own maps of journeys yet to come and plot your own course of travel in this brave new world." William Forde: December 29th, 2013.

December 28th, 2013.

29/12/2013

Thought for today:
"For all of you out there who lost a loved one around Christmas time, know that if they could speak to you today they would undoubtedly tell you the words that you are feeling for them as you think of each other. Imagine that they could exchange Christmas presents with you this year. Do not doubt that your presents to each other would be other than exactly the same. They would wish you happiness and tell you how much they miss you and love you. They would wish that they'd done things with you they hadn't done or not done some things they had. They would wish that they'd done some things better and left some things unsaid from time to time. There is nothing wrong in wishing the dead well or even wishing them alive; such is an enduring feature of human nature.

This year, blow up a balloon and write on it their name and the Christmas message that you still love and miss them. Then release your feelings of Christmas good-will into the heavens. Alternately, write down all the things that you would say to them were they here and then burn your letter of love. Believe me it will make you feel much better to express your feelings. I know; I've done it and I also know many others who have benefited from this seemingly innocent action. Merry Christmas Mum and Dad and all the Fordes who no longer grace this earth with your presence. I love you all." William Forde: December 28th, 2013.

December 27th, 2013.

27/12/2013

Thought for today:
"Given all of the lovely food we indulge in over the Christmas week, I still love my toast and marmalade for breakfast along with my Sheila's malt loaf.

It never fails to surprise me what we men will do for an attractive looking woman with legs that stretch towards heaven, and who possesses a body to die for with the smile of a Mona Lisa, and who is carrying a pot of her delicious homemade marmalade in her fair hands?" William Forde: December 27th, 2013.

December 26th, 2013.

26/12/2013

Thought for today:
"Boxing Day is traditionally the day following Christmas Day, when servants and tradesmen would receive gifts from their masters and superiors. Having never considered anyone else superior to myself nor found anyone who I was superior to, it doesn't look like I'll be getting any extra prezzies then, does it?" William Forde: December 26th, 2013.

December 25th, 2013.

25/12/2013

"Thought for today:
"To get the most out of Christmas requires an amalgam of love: love of a wife or partner, love of family, love of Santa and love of Jesus. The love of these four Christmas aspects will provide one with the best present of all on Christmas Day.

To all my family and friends, Sheila and I wish you a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. To any enemies I may have unwittingly made over the years or any person who thinks ill of me, I wish you a Merry Christmas also and hope that your quality of judgement improves in the New Year. To all of those women I have loved, I wish you all the happiness that this coming Christmas can bring and hope that you fare well in your future lives and don't feel too bad about the one 'that got away,' but rather regard the experience as a lucky escape instead. To all the rest of you who don't fall into any of these three categories, I can only say, Merry Christmas and God bless you all!" William Forde: December 25th, 2013

December 24th, 2013.

24/12/2013

Thought for today:
"I fell in the park three days ago and developed a clot in my leg which was traumatised. Hence, I will need a daily visit by the nurse over the next seven days, plus a hospital scan today if they can fit me in. So I don't know if I will miss my first annual Christmas gathering with the family this afternoon.

I love Christmas. It's my favourite time of year. Christmas will forever be associated in my mind with being a 'family' time. When it gets to Christmas Eve, I know that a special day is in the offing. When my mother was alive and all her seven children lived in different parts of the region, we would all nevertheless make the effort to meet up in some venue for a drink and a chance to tell and re-tell stories of our past and some of the present. Being a non-drinker, my father never attended these gatherings, but my mother would gladly drink his ration in addition to her own.

Since Mum's early death twenty six years ago, the Christmas Eve gathering continues and it is the one time of the year when all seven of us and our partners are guaranteed to assemble under one roof; most accompanied by their children and grandchildren. We naturally catch up on all the family gossip and never depart without having recounted a good number of stories involving our mother and our upbringing. Our own children have no doubt heard the same tales being told many times over the years of their development, but that never stopped me and my six brothers and sisters re-telling them. The grandchildren no doubt have quickly cottoned on as to how the same stories seem to become a little more embellished with each telling and the passing of every year.

As with the dynamics within all families, things change from year to year and the Forde family experience their successes, failures, budding romances and relationship break-ups very much the same as do other families. First there are the new births to catch up with, additional names to add to the memory bank and birthday list, the deaths of mutual friends and distant relatives to discuss and of course, any big disputes, separations and divorces that have occurred.

Last but by no means least, there is also the feared ordeal of every new partner who decides to hitch their wagon to the horse of a Forde. It is usually during a Christmas Eve gathering of the clan when they first find themselves on display for first viewing by the Forde family. This day of festivity and drinking is usually considered by their Forde 'better half' as being the best time to get them passed the family 'quality controllers,' (Me and my six brothers and sisters.......their partners and spouses aren't on the 'Acceptance and Rejection Committee!').Everything depends upon this first impression they create among the seven brothers and sisters and it is often many months later before the news trickles down to them whether or not they have been accepted as a family member when their name either is or isn't referred to on invitation cards and during other family mentionings.

In my earlier years, I can recall that a brother or sister would have to have been married for at least five years before their partner would have been fully accepted as a permanent feature in the Forde family as a person who was likely to stay the course. Having been married three times during the past 45 years, it was only with bride number three that I know that 'all six of my brothers and sisters' fully accept her as a Forde. However, one would be hard pressed ever to discover any reason not to accept Sheila; she being a person who instantly attracts the loving acceptance of all who know her or have met her a mere once.

Back to mum. My mother loved a drink and her favourite tipple was a rum and black currant. It was she who bought me my first drink of rum and black currant and I'm pretty sure that it was me who bought her the last one she ever drank. In fact, come to think of it, I probably bought her every rum and black currant she ever drank.

Here I am, looking better I might add than the brooding Mr Darcy coming out of the mist, on that very last Christmas Eve afternoon that my mother was alive to join us. I'm naturally paying for the family round; as usual. As I gave my dear mum her drink, she would invariably smile and whisper in my ear, ' You always were my bonniest, Billy; the best looking in the four boys. It's to do with possessing all your own teeth and your own natural hair colour.' Naturally, I've never had the heart to tell my four brothers this yet, but perhaps one Christmas Eve in the not to distant future, if each of them buys me a few rum and black currants, perhaps I will recount this previously untold tale and add it to the annual list of family memories! Happy Christmas everyone!" William Forde: December 24th, 2013.

December 23rd, 2013.

24/12/2013

Thought for today:
"I know nothing of hatred, intolerance, ageism, racism, sexism, bigotry, indoctrination, homophobia and prejudice. I don't yet understand things like love, compassion, integrity, tolerance, human decency and truth. I know nothing of these things yet because I am still an infant in my mother's arms. For the most important formative years of my life, all I will know is what mum, dad and you will teach me.The only knowledge that I'll possess is what you all give me. It is you that I depend on to pave my way. Teach me the true Christmas message. Teach me things that will make the world a better place and not a worse one to live in. Teach me childlike things that I can take into my adult life as models of learning to pass on to my own children.Teach me to love my neighbour as myself. Mum and Dad, teach me all such things wholesome and you will have taught me all I need to get by in life. Teach me the true meaning of the Christmas story. Please....please teach me well." William Forde: December 23rd, 2013.

December 22nd, 2013

22/12/2013

Thought for today:
"There...there now. Don't cry my little angel. I won't let old Hitler's bombs hurt a hair on your pretty head. Let's get you home 'cos it'll soon be tea time and mum said she's going to try and mend that broken leg of yours tonight after she's done the ironing and before she goes to bed.

Oh I wish...........I wish.........I wish that dad would come back home before Santa comes 'cos I miss him lots. The man in the sweet shop told Mrs Sharp that the war would be over by Christmas, but don't you worry my little angel. There's no need to worry 'cos I won't let daddy buy me a new doll when he comes home for Christmas. You're my little baby; the only doll I will ever want. I love you. Now, lie down and close your eyes and I'll take you home, 'cos Christmas is coming and it'll soon be here and we'll all be one happy family again." William Forde : December 22nd, 2013.

December 21st, 2013.

22/12/2013

Thought for today:
"My dearest Doris, I dream that we pass each other daily in the street, but no longer look at our feeble frames which old age has given us in our twilight years. No more can either of us see the one-time object of our love; my blindness the result of a war wound and your cataracts the cause of your cloudy vision in old age.

In my dream , my dearest, we never speak, but I know in my heart of hearts that we never pass each other by without sensing each other's presence. There is no need to say anything as our deep feelings for one another make all manner of words wholly redundant. Instead, we just look in each other's direction and sweetly smile before we go on our way back to our lonely flats; allowing but a gentle tap of our walking sticks upon the stick of our old dancing partner as the only sound to pass between us. This walking stick tap is much more than a mere matter of courtesy from one old man to one old woman; it is a secret acknowledgement that we were once young sweethearts who planned to marry in more peaceful times.

We never did get around to getting wed Doris, but by God we loved each other with an intensity that occasionally bordered on the indecent haste of unbridled passion. I'll never forget how often we danced many a night away at the old Mecca in Bradford until the time came to run for the last bus home. And we might have danced on and on, had not the Second World War interrupted our courtship and took me away from you; placing me in the fields of Flanders amongst a squadron of frightened young men who'd never previously left the comfort of their parent's home. Before I could find my feet in the muddy, bloody trenches of a battle field on foreign soil, a round of German artillary shells shattered our future hopes. The bunker I fought in was blown to smithereens, killing half my regiment and leaving the remainder no more than part fragments of their former selves. So before we had chance to exchange too many letters of love, I was seriously wounded and left for dead without an identity tag. The War Office then posted me 'missing in action and presumed dead' and after a suitable period of mourning had passed and you'd lost the baby you were carrying, you married my old mate Billy Stevens who'd always fancied you.

But I hadn't died, Doris. It was our son who'd died; a small bairn who was buried alongside his parent's one-time dreams. I'd come back; having eventually returned from the war severely wounded and blind, but never broken. Upon hearing of your marriage to my old mate, I realised there and then that our lives and prospects had greatly altered and that our time together was now but a thing of the past. Having found myself abandonded at the altar of my affections left me with a broken heart, but discovering that you had given birth to a still-born robbed my soul of all future purpose and rocked my senses to the very core. I buckled down and tried to get on with my life the best way I could, but knew full well that our dancing days together were now well and truly over. For a number of years, I was pleased that I could no longer see the world around me. I no longer held any desire for any of its empty pleasures and had I not been brought up Roman Catholic, I would have ended my meaningless existence without second thought.

My dancing days have now long passed and can be found only in the recess of my mind as a fond rememberance of unbridled youth and the plans which we made for the future. I will never forget how it felt to hold you and how you felt in my arms as we danced around the floor. I can still smell your perfumed presence as we embraced and can still taste that last kiss you gave me as you waved me off at Keighley Railway Station. I treasure your touch and the gentle way you held my hand as the departing train unclasped our intertwined fingers. Ten seconds later, you'd left my life in a puff of steam and I never saw you again.

I'd like to think it's you my love that taps my stick each day we pass. I can still sense your shadow in my mind's eye as we danced the night away and swore eternal love. Though I know that you never forgot your old dancing partner, I hope that Billy Stevens treated you kindly as his wife and never took unmanly liberties with you during times when you just needed to be alone with your own thoughts.

I will think of you this Chrismas, my dearest Doris, as I have done every Christmas since I returned from the trenches. I vividly recall that last dance we went to at the Town Hall on that Christmas Eve before I went off to war. If you still think of me, my dearest, then the next time we pass each other in the street, tap once for 'yes', but don't bother tapping for 'no' as I would prefer to go to my grave with my memories of happier days of our past. Merry Christmas Doris. I love you lots, my darling. I always have and always will x." William Forde: December 21st, 2013.

December 20th, 2013

20/12/2013

Thought for today:
"Ever had a bad hair day, seen a bad mama or just been 'caught short' at the most inconvenient of moments? It happens to us all at some time in our lives. Usually, there is nobody around to witness and reprimand our bad behaviour, and in the main, it goes undiscovered and our unblemished reputation remains intact.

However, before you issue that instant reproach the very next time you see another in the process of behaving inappropriately, momentarily think upon your own past misdemeanors and indiscretions and consider allowing their transgression to pass without the need to comment or rub their noses it in.

That is of course, unless it's your daughter's pet rabbit, a close family member or your mother-in-law out for a Christmas shopping trip down in Keighley Market! Merry Christmas everyone." William Forde: December 20th, 2013.

December 19th, 2013.

19/12/2013

Thought for today:
"I know that you really want to buy that special present for your child that you really can't afford this coming Christmas, but listen carefully and lighten up. They don't need it! You are the only present they need! You influence their happiness today and shape their character for the future.

If your partner and children really love you, believe me when I tell you that they wouldn't like to see you saddled with unnecessary debt at the start of the New Year just to see them momentarily happy at the end of this one. A loving partner will be much happier to receive a more modest gift on Christmas Day from a less anxious you. Also, a loving child will continue to love their parent who expresses love to them.

As for those children who have parents who tend to materially spoil them whatever their age; when they marry, they are most likely to expect their partner to spoil them too and are odds on to view the materially spoiling of their children as representing an act of love. In such situations, the giving of cash, expensive presents and constant treats gradually come to take the place of parental hugs, kisses, praise, the sharing of experiences and the giving of time.

In the final analysis however, what one remembers about their childhood are all the times that their parents were there for them; to see them in the Nativity Play, to hear them in the choir, to see them run at sports day and to cheer them home enthusiastically, even when they came home next to last in the race. These are the precious memories they will recall in their adult years. They'll remember the time they bloodied their knee in a fall and you provided the hug and magic kiss that made it better. They'll never forget how you responded when they did grievous wrong and had been found out; of how you reprimanded them firmly yet lovingly, before giving them a second chance not to offend again. They'll appreciate how you were clever enough to know that they'd need second chances many many times before they eventually got it right. Most important of all the many things they will remember however, is how their parent's values acted as an anchor in their often tempestuous and stormy lives during their teenage years and when they left home to find their own way in the world. They knew that whenever they strayed in their attitude, values and behaviour, that when the day came for them to return home to port, that their parents would still be where they'd left them: having stayed constant to their beliefs and wholesome in their way of life. In such manner, rest assured that you will be your children's prime model in the shaping of their future character and even the characters of your grandchildren.

So, this Christmas, rejoice in your good parenting past and present and know that when you are longer alive, the things your children shall remember about you will not be any of those expensive gifts they ever found beneath the Christmas tree wrapped up in fancy paper and tied with ribbons. The things they shall remember about the parents they loved will be those endearing things you said to them and did with them, the games you played with them and the stories you told them, the many times you cried with them during sad moments and laughed with them in times of great joy. They will remember the 'unforgettable' ; all of the real presents within the personal purse of any loving parent to give their child. So get real, stop being a featherbrain and take your head out of the clouds Mr and Mrs Noddy. Merry Christmas one and all x." William Forde: December 19th, 2013.

December 18th, 2013.

18/12/2013

Thought for today:
"This image reminded me of the pranks I would often play on my children William and Becky when they were very young. On Christmas Eve after they had excitedly retired to bed, I would wait until it grew dark and then I would gently ring a small bell in the front garden under their bedroom window and add a faint 'Ho...ho...ho..'

One year, with the compliance of another adult, I used a telephone extension in another room of the house to phone one of the children. As the excited child spoke to Father Christmas on the phone (I cannot remember whether it was William or Becky for the life in me), I left a letter from Father Christmas to the other child on their bed. Both phone call and letter requested the same thing from each child. They were each sworn to secrecy not to inform the other of the content of my conversion with them and each were told that if they listened carefully on Christmas Eve that Father Christmas would ring his bell to let them know that he was coming. They were told that they would be the only child in the world to hear Santa's bell although others might pretend they did.They were also told that if they were still awake as he approached their house, then he'd simply fly over it and miss out leaving presents for them this year. This ruse worked until William was 8 years old and Becky was almost 10 years. I lie not!

There was also a red 'magic boot' beneath the tree that would be empty until I passed my magic hands over it and the two children repeated a magic mantra three times with their eyes closed, 'Hoot, hoot...hoot, it's the magic boot.' Upon speaking the magic words, the boot I'd been holding all along would be vigorously rattled by the children and inside, the boot shaker always found a sweet. Thirty five years on and the Christmas tree is never decked without the 'magic boot' beneath it. I love the magic of Christmas. I love all my children. I always will." William Forde: December 17th, 2013.

December 17th, 2013.

17/12/2013

Thought for today:
"I recall growing up during the 1950's and when I'd left school for the day I'd then have to start on my other jobs and get them finished before my dad returned from the pit and occupied our only room having a tin-tub bath. My home chores would amount to around one hour daily after school had ended, plus two hours on a Saturday morning before mum would let me attend the Saturday matinee in Cleckheaton.

She would usually give me my weekly spending money; a shiny, silver, six-penny piece to spend. There would be three old pence entrance fee to the picture house and two old pence for an ice cream at the interval, leaving one penny for two gobstoppers on the way home. I also had to walk the two-mile distance to and from the picture house. If I only had a three-penny bit spending money that week instead of sixpence, due to any shortage in family monies or having committed some misdeaner during the week (for which a three-penny punishment would be automatically levied), prior arrangements would be made with a friend who could afford the entrance fee to the Saturday morning matinee. My friend would visit the lavatory after the film had started and open the fire door to let me sneak in. I must admit, I didn't view this practice as being strictly criminal because we all did it sometimes.

By the age of 8 years, I had started to earn sixpence a week from an elderly-widower neighbour for doing his shopping and emptying the ashes from his fire grate once a day. I would give my mother this sixpence towards the household income and although she never admitted it, I strongly suspect that it was the very same sixpence that she gave me back on a Saturday morning as my spending money! She certainly knew how to make the household budget stretch and the money go round and could have easily given the Chancellor a few financial tips in the area of redistribution." William Forde: December 17th, 2013.

December 16th, 2013

16/12/2013

Thought for today:
"It was three years yesterday when I first met Sheila, the love of my life, in Gascoignes, Main Street, Haworth on Wednesday the 15th, December,2010. While that meeting alone was insufficient to tell either of us that 'we'd met the one,'
it nevertheless made us both feel uneasy when we parted, unsure of whether we would ever see each other again.

Upon arriving home,everything inside me seemed to scream out that I had foolishly walked away from the love of my life and would come to bitterly regret it. Whenever my emotions become unsettled, I often write. I sat down and wrote a poem about having lost the love of my life through a failure not to commit there and then when love looks you in the face. The poem is dedicated to Sheila, 'The greatest love of my life.'

‘The Greatest’ by William Forde.

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 more than thy 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 there within.
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 we would be right now, 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.
William Forde: December 16th, 2013.

December 15th, 2013

15/12/2013

Thought for today:
"Following every storm there's a peace and after every argument there's a making up to be done. These earthly emotions are no different in human make-up than in nature's changing moods and seasons.

Until the age of eleven, I recall my childhood as being very happy. I was loved by my parents, I was well above average in my educational standard and I was very popular with my peers. I was also a great footballer for my age and was determined to play soccar for the Irish national team as my father had done before his marriage to mum. Then I was run over and crippled by a wagon and finished up with a spinal injury. When I was told that I'd never walk again I was angry that my life's plans and dreams had been shattered, along with my legs. It was over three years before I walked again, thanks to relaxation, meditation, visualistion exercises and becoming an ardent follower of Eastern tradtions.

In my later life as a Probation Officer and behaviourist, between 1970 and 2,000, I researched and studied the driving emotions that control and influence one's behaviour pattern through the evaluation of thousands of problematic response patterns. My thirty years of work and research in this field taught me that the emotions of anger, fear, and love are the greatest determinants of all positive and problematic behaviour. I also learned that the expression of love was the most positive determinant of behaviour, with the inability or failure to express love for self and others as producing the most negative and emotionally disturbing behaviour. The next greatest factor influencing one's behaviour pattern was the ability to appropriately express anger and fear. Fail to voluntarily express your anger and instead you involuntarily expressed a surfeit of fear. Repress your fear and you involuntarily expressed a surfeit of anger. Therefore, to reduce your fear level, you learn to express your anger and to reduce your anger level, you learn to express your fears.These few facts represent the totality of my thirty years research into people's problematic behaviour patterns and formed the bedrock to the 'Anger Management' courses I founded along the way.

During the early 1970's I founded the very first Anger Management group and within two years, Anger Management had mushroomed across the English speaking world. It has undoubtedly helped millions of people since and this knowledge alone pleases me immensely.

Looking back today upon my life, I can truly say that the stormy part of my youth was the very best thing that could ever have happened to me, including the loss of my mobility. I now know that without the tremendous amount of anger that I then unhealthily expressed, I would never have been the founder of Anger Management in later years and that I would never have known the degree of perfect peace I frequently feel today with myself and the world around me." William Forde :December 15th, 2013.

December 14th, 2013.

14/12/2013

Thought for today:
"Someday brother, when we are grown up and are able to make our own way to a more prosperous country, we will be able to know all of those things that we only hear of today and never have.

Someday we'll know that when we wake each morning with an empty belly that it will soon be filled. We'll know that we can afford to let our children have a sound education which gives them a greater knowledge of our world, greater understanding of its peoples and customs and a greater respect for themselves and others of less fortunate circumstances.

Someday we'll know that in the month of December that our children can roll around in snow instead of sand on a blistering hot beach and build snowmen and throw snowballs at each other. We'll know that if we as their parents, continue to work hard and save all our spare money in our new country, that every year or two we can come back here as 'the man made good' and be the envy of all around. Someday, brother.....someday it will hopefully happen! Someday. Until then, Merry Christmas everyone." William Forde: December 14th, 2013.

December 13th, 2013.

13/12/2013

Thought for today:
"As the eldest child in a family of seven children, between the ages of seven and fourteen years, it fell to me to go out carol singing every evening, whatever the weather from the 15th, December until I attended Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve.

My carol singing round was clearly mapped as being in the area of the Pack Horse, Moorside, Liversedge where all the rich people lived in their big properties. By rich, I refer to those who owned their own houses that had inside lavatories instead of a shared outside privi, a fridge filled with food instead of a constantly empty larder space designed to hold a few jars of fish paste and two ounces of potted meat for sandwiches, and a ceramic bath that was mounted to the floor instead of a tin one that hung on a wall peg.

While I didn't have many clothes to wear, I soon discovered the art of 'dressing down' during my carol singing weeks, especially if one had a pair of trousers with patches sewn in them or a small hole in the seat of the pants. My mother told me that rich folk would always accept poor clothing, so long as both clothes and the child wearing them were cleanly washed and their wearer was respectfully spoken.

I always went carol singing on my own so that I didn't have to share the takings and could usually make a shilling a night for the first seven nights and two shillings for two hours singing on a good night during the last three days before Christmas Eve. All the money was given to my grateful mother to help buy last minute Christmas presents for our ever growing family.

It felt really good to be important enough to contribute to the household in this manner and I never once failed to hand every penny over. I was probably too frightened to hold out on my mother anyway, as it is a well established fact known by every Catholic child that ever lived, that 'telling one's mother a deliberate lie' is nothing short of a mortal sin. It is graver than lying to the parish priest in the confessional box and is punishable by eternal damnation and excommunication from the family home!'

On Christmas Eve, I could usually earn as much money carol singing between 7.00pm and 11.30pm as my poor father could earn down the pit in one week! (The national average wage was then just over £7pw, but a miner might earn £9). I often tell my brothers and sisters today that without my lungs and ability to sing sweetly in the cold snow, they wouldn't have had more than an orange and an apple in their stockings to look forward to on Christmas morning and would probably have had nothing else but potted meat and spam on their Christmas dinner plate instead of the fresh chicken from the market my mum would always buy on Christmas Eve and pluck by hand.

I remember the two second hand tricyles that my monies bought for my brothers Patrick and Peter. My brothers loved those tricycles so much that they were never off them and rode them until their wheels buckled. The sad truth is that even today, not one of my six brothers and sisters truly believes that it was I who was their 'Father Christmas', but me and mum knew!" William Forde: December 13th, 2013.

'Tales from the Allotments' by William Forde

12/12/2013

Thought for today:
"Oh vanity of vanities and most envied of all things envied, even in the twilight of my darkest hour; even then, can I trust thee never to abandon me." William Forde: Xmas time: December 12th, 2013.

It takes a strange sense of reckless fearlessness to test one's truth and vanity to the very limit and on occasion to live in awe of oneself and not in spite of oneself. Remaining forever truthful and as fearless as any grain of remaining modesty will allow me to be, I now tell you of my most favourite story and the one which has given me the greatest of all pleasures ever to read.

Of all the stories I have ever read during the past 71 years, it pleases me beyond all sensibility to tell you that the one I most enjoyed (not counting the Bible and Shakespear of course), I wrote myself. It is called, 'Tales from the Allotments,' and it was read in public assembly at 'Shafton Primary School,' Barnsley, South Yorkshire on the day of its publication launch during the 1990's by the televion presenter Michael Parkinson. The artist who painted the beautiful, period cover was Robert Nixon from Denby Dale, Huddersfield.It is dedicated to my beloved,deceased father and all miners of all time.

'Tales from the Allotments' is suitable for all adult readership. It is a story about Christmas Day in the heart of a one-time thriving mining village which became a skeleton of itself after its pit was closed and the entire population of its workforce were left redundant and bereft of purpose.

It was inspired by the pit closures of the mid 1980's and the disastrous effect upon the redundant miners it left in its wake throughout Britain. My father was a miner at the Yorkshire coal face for many years and this, along with a natural love of British history of the 'working classes,' led me to pen this timeless Christmas Day story of 'hope.' Of all my writings and books, it is the one that I would choose to be most remembered for; not paricularly because it is the best written, but because it sums up everything I was, am and will ever be; it is me!

'Tales from the Allotments' has been re-published in E-book format in time for Christmas reading and can be downloaded to one's laptop in the event that you don't have a kindle or similar E-book device. It carries a nominal cost of $1 (One dollar) and all of its money from sales is given to charity, as was the entire £200,000 plus profits that sales of my books made between 1990 and 2005. To obtain, please click here. Enjoy. William Forde.
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/387105

December 11th, 2013

11/12/2013

Thought for today:
"I often wonder the difference that fifty years can make to one person, a place or even one experience.

Christine Keeler is 71 years old like myself and I can still vividly recall how her dalliance with the Minister John Profumo almost brought down the Government of the day fifty years ago.

The scandal happened at the height of the Cold War when it was discovered that Christine Keeler had been sleeping with both Profumo, the then Conservative Minister for War, and Yevgeny Ivanov, a naval attache based at the Russian Embassy in London. It is self evident from her photograhs 'then' and 'now' that the intermittant half century has not been too kind to her once beautiful looks.

If one looks at the City of Dubai before the economic boom hit it, one can witness how the emirate went from desert backwater to the Manhattan of the Middle East in half a century. I suppose that it just goes to show that neither progress nor old age can be stopped in its tracks once those pages of the calendar have started to turn.

However, there is one aspect of human experience that can remain unchanged forever. For most of us, we shall always retain fond memories for the three loves of our lives; our first love, our best love and our last love. Although usually different experiences that have changed our lives, they nevertheless never leave our memories for the whole of it. For a few of the world's luckiest people however, who are fortunate enough to have all three experiences rolled into one lifetime's experience, there is nothing that is either more endearing or enduring than when two best child friends grow into adult sweethearts and share a love and maritial happiness that lasts throughout their lives and even beyond the grave." William Forde:December 11th, 2013.

December 10th, 2013

11/12/2013

Thought for today:
"There is no denying the bond that can often exist between human and animal; especially those bonds that occasionally grow between creature and child. Studies undertaken over recent years have shown that pets can smell out illness, pain and impending death that exists within their owners.

This unique capacity to know what other humans can only suspect is what sets our pets apart from the undomesticated, wild creatures of the woods and forests that do not socialise with mankind. Not only are our pets able to hear higher pitched sounds that the ears of humans cannot pick up, but they are equally capable of picking up the signals of human pain, inner distress and changing moods in their owners.

Could this pet sparrow that the small boy rescued, saved and restored to health before befriending as a pet, truly sense that its child owner has a terminal illness and will soon die? Is this pup and kitten able to empathise with their girl owner's suffering from the terminal cancer she bears during moments of her pain? Does this dog hope that its prayers will cure its boy owner and allow them both to continue growing up together for many more years to come?

When children are privileged to grow uo healthily into adulthood, most may remember a favourite toy, but none will ever forget a pet they once owned and loved and who touched their life for evermore. A pet is for life!" William Forde : December 10th, 2013.

December 9th, 2013.

9/12/2013

Thought for today:
"Next summer, Haworth will be one of the stages in the Tour de France. Let us hope that it brings fame, fortune and glory to the winner as well as reinforcing Haworth on the map of 'significant places to be.'

Lance Edward Armstrong (Born Lance Edward Gunderson) in September 1971, was until recently, the most famous of all professional road racing cyclists. He is an American, whom despite developing testicular cancer, won the Tour de France a record of seven consecutive times between 1999 and 2005 before being disqualified from each of these races and banned for life from cycling for having admittedly taken illegally prescribed drugs to enhance his performance. During the Tour de France in 1999, Armstrong came third and denied Bradley Wiggins a place on the podium by pushing him into fourth position. Armstrong denied using drugs after 1995, but Wiggins didn't believe him.

Having been stripped of his previous cycling world records in the Tour de France, Armstrong's public image for millions of young cyclists out there has also been stripped bare. With no official number on his back, let's hope he doesn't try to slip back into the race anomyniously and do a 'Lady Godiva' cycling up Main Street in the hope that he won't be noticed by the keen-eyed Haworth stalwarts and arm-chaired cyclists mounting the crowded sidewalks." William Forde: December 9th, 2013.

December 8th, 2013

8/12/2013

Thought for today:
"During one's life there will be good times and bad to experience and internalise. It is crucially important that we learn to share both our good days and bad days with others whom we love and respect and do not try to ride them out alone in our own little corner of isolation.

There is no reasoning to be found in putting one's head down and braving it out alone when there are countless others around who are prepared to offer their sound advice, good solicitations, love and support.

The great philantropist Andrew Carnegie knew that keeping his vast wealth to himself and taking it to his grave with him was the most unproductive thing he or any other person could do. He discovered that it was better to give it all away to the more needy in his life time rather than keep it locked up like an abandoned fish out of water which is simply allowed to stink and rot away.

Sharing oneself in every way with those who care for and love you is no different to the truth that Andrew Caregie and others discovered. Sharing your love, fear, pleasure, pain and happiness will stop you rotting away and decomposing in your ever-growing mound of isolation. A good way to begin this process is by learning to tell others truthfully and considerately how you feel about this, that, them, the situation you are part of and self. Believe me, it will make you a freer spirit and transorm your life into one of greater happiness and more positive expectations." William Forde: December 8th, 2013.

December 7th, 2013

7/12/2013

Thought for today:
"While I usually tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, I would be distinctly uncomfortable knowing that my truth had shattered the innocent happiness and bliss of a young child who still believed in Santa Claus, when they might have remained like little Bella Chamberlain who still does.

I have been asked many times about the wisdom of telling our children untruths such as the presence of Father Christmas. As far as I know, I have never heard tell of one single child where believing in Santa has harmed their life and impaired their future happiness, whereas I have know of many experiences where the opposite was true!

When I was a child in a family of seven children, my father worked at Blakeboroughs in Brighouse. The firm always held Christmas parties for all their employees and families, during which Father Christmas always attended and handed out presents to all the children 'who still believed in him'. Father Christmas would approach and ask, 'Do you believe in me?' Reply 'Yes' and you got a present. Reply 'No' and you were considered too old and didn't. I managed to convince myself to 'believe' in Santa until the age of eight years, before I finally stopped believing in public. On the day I was told that Santa Claus didn't live, that was the day when a large part of the Christmas magic died for me and I cried and cried. The full magic of Christmas only returned to my life when I'd children of my own.

Oh lucky Christmas children who still believe! Oh lucky bella Bella! Hands up if you still believe in Santa Claus. Hands up if you can't wait for Christmas morning to come and open that super dooper present he will bring you." William Forde: December 7th, 2013.