Category: Family

Dec 27th

12/27/2013

Carnivorous fish related to the piranha have attacked bathers in an Argentine river, injuring about 70 people of all ages. A lifeguard told Associated Press that bathers suddenly began to complain of bite marks on hands and feet as they cooled off in a heat wave.

The attack happened on Christmas Day while thousands of people were cooling off in the Parana River in Rosario, 300km (186 miles) north of Buenos Aires. It's normal for there to be an isolated bite or injury, but the magnitude in this case was great. Paramedics reported dozens of people with bites on their extremities. Some children have lost entire digits.

Officials blamed the exceptional attack on a school of voracious palometa fish. Apparently, this is a large type of piranha with sharp teeth.

That's enough to send fear into anyone. I'll bet the local people will think twice before immersing themselves again. I remember a time in the early 70s, when my family was touring Australia. We stopped off at an isolated beach in the north of Queensland. I sat under tamarind trees in the heat of the day, hoping for a sea breeze to cool me. No such luck. Although we'd been warned about stingers, deadly jellyfish with trailing tendrils, I longed to immerse my body in the lapping water. Jellyfish stings in Australia can cause death, with there being several venomous species of jellyfish, such as the box jellyfish and Irukandji Jellyfish. Box jellyfish have caused more than 60 deaths in Australia in the past hundred years.

Temptation won. But I was quick. I ran into the shallows, bent so that the water covered me for a second, and then ran back to the scorching sand. In two seconds, the air temperature removed any benefit. I wonder if youngsters living beside the Argentine river will challenge themselves in this way.

Dec 25th

12/25/2013

Some people are lonely this Christmas. Their family may be far away, part of a dimly remembered past. Those without a home will have no chance to read this message. Worldly goods won't be part of their belongings. I only hope they find some comfort on this day.

People working for the Salvation Army do a wonderful job in caring for anyone living on the streets. They don't judge, but understand the frail mental, emotional, and physical condition of the people they contact. I wish I could adopt the same attitude. I'm working on it. How about you?

In the latest news, the police fund gave £50,000 to food banks in West Yorkshire out of money raised from stolen property.

The commissioner said: "As Christmas approaches more and more families are struggling to make ends meet and the reliance on food banks has become a reality.

"This money will help those food banks in the areas of greatest need to buy more supplies as the festive season draws closer and into the New Year.

"This donation will go some way to addressing the needs of families and hopefully contribute towards easing the pressure on those in our communities in these increasingly difficult times.

I remember my childhood in Australia. The Salvation Army would march to my street and play music. My sisters and I would join the crowd to listen to their message of peace and understanding. Times were hard in the 50s, but we knew no other life.

We should never take what we own for granted. Who knows what's around the corner. 'But for the grace of God, go I'.

Dec 22nd

12/22/2013

ACTRESS Sian Phillips attended the funeral of former husband Peter O’Toole with their daughter Kate, despite their unfriendly split more than 30 years ago. The screen icon O’Toole died at the Wellington Hospital in London, aged 81, last weekend following a long illness.

The award-winning Welsh actress, 80, was married to the Lawrence Of Arabia star for 20 years and they had two daughters together, Kate and Patricia, but they had not been on speaking terms since their bitter break-up in 1979. At the time of the split Miss Phillips publicly stated that her husband was a “dangerous, disruptive human being.”

How sad that so many marriage splits end with hard feelings. I can see how he could have been the way she described, and I sympathize with her pain. She probably took the brunt of his foul moods in the past and didn't want to repeat the experience.

However, she said she wanted to put their differences aside to attend his funeral. If only she'd done that—forgiven him—while he could appreciate her offer.

The Irish actor Peter James O'Toole was born on 2 August 1932 and died on 14 December 2013. He attended the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art, and gained recognition as a Shakespearean actor at the Bristol Old Vic Theater and with the English Stage Company, before making his film debut in 1959.

The eminent actor achieved stardom playing T. E. Lawrence in Lawrence of Arabia (1962) for which he received his first Academy Award nomination. He received seven further Oscar nominations – for Becket (1964), The Lion in Winter (1968), Goodbye, Mr. Chips (1969), The Ruling Class (1972), The Stunt Man (1980), My Favorite Year (1982) and Venus (2006) He holds the undistinguished record for the most Academy Award acting nominations without a win.

We can all learn a lesson from their relationship. Live each day as if it's your last. Don't cling onto past pain. Forgive everyone, even your enemies or those who have hurt you, knowing they possess faults like every human. I'm not saying you should present yourself to be fired on again. Rather, forgive them, and then choose to withdraw yourself.

Dec 18th

12/18/2013

Channel 4's Gogglebox is about to go global by being remade in China, the US and the Ukraine. The reality series, a program featuring adult sofa-bound families talking about what they are watching on television, has taken off.

Why does anyone want to watch other people watching television? The whole concept is astounding.

Gogglebox's contributors, prone on their seats, pass judgment on the week's news and entertainment programs. But the reality TV show has built an audience of two million viewers. Although the featured families are not told what to think, their reactions are not entirely unstructured. The participants are told what to watch and kept free of interruptions.

I guess their children can't come running into the room and the dog is shoved outside.

Along with barbed comments about what they are watching and a few chuckles, the show gives a glimpse into family life and the way we live now. Apparently the average family watches about 21 hours of TV a week.

A similar ITV show in the 80s was revelatory in showing how little TV people actually watched, with viewers wandering in and out of rooms. I didn't see that one either. In the 80s, life's problems kept me fully occupied.

Anyway, I don't watch reality shows. I'm not interested in peering into other people's lives. But I must be amongst the minority. Do you enjoy being distracted this way?

Dec 15th

12/15/2013

www.financialexpress.com

In the latest news, a gardener in intensive care died of alcohol withdrawal, despite attempts to save him. They discovered he had imbibed a daily pack of strong lager prior to the accident.

I read an article several weeks ago about a change in the UK people's drinking habits. I can't say this refers to adults, because sadly some children begin drinking as young as 8 years old. Many of the established pubs in England are closing, as more people are buying their alcohol from supermarkets at cheaper prices. On the face of it, this seems sensible, although they're missing out on socializing with friends in a convivial atmosphere. But the bad news is that the drinking public consumes more at home than they did previously.

The inquest revealed the facts of the gardener's death. During a crash on his bicycle, the man broke 11 ribs and cut his left kidney when he crashed into a wheelie bin, tumbling over the handlebars. He survived but doctors at St George's Hospital in Tooting, south London, grew worried when the 51-year-old became delirious. Despite treatment with vitamins and minerals to combat alcohol withdrawal, he died a week later of a cardiac arrest.

www.deccanchronicle.com

The pathologist reported evidence of past overuse of alcohol. His heart was double its normal size, which could be due to high blood pressure and also alcohol. His liver was twice the expected size despite half the liver being removed. That was due to chronic alcohol misuse over a considerable period of time.

The cause of death was reported to be cardiac arrest due to multiple injuries, with a secondary cause of 'established chronic liver disease with ongoing steatosis and cirrhosis, and acute confusion and delirium due to alcohol withdrawal syndrome'.

When social drinking changes into a solitary personal addiction, there is usually an underlying reason. We probably all know someone who is taking this short-track to death. Usually, there's not a thing anyone else can do to change their ways. I've gone over and over my daughter's death in my mind. I'm left with the nagging feeling I should have helped her in some way. But deep down, I know everyone must learn their own lessons.

Here's an excerpt from my novel in progress, which shows a mother's self-blame. It's in the form of a vision.

Exhilarating freedom washes over my mind. At last, the tumbling journey stops and I gain balance.

In the night-time blur below, I concentrate to pick out details. Houses spread along dark streets. Occasional lights send a glimmer through the trees resembling stars in the night sky.

I must be in an overseas country, separated by half a revolution of the Earth. Will I prevent a crime? Assist a child?

In an overwhelming rush, I'm sucked below.

My psyche oozes right through a solid roof to hover inside a kitchen. Overhead light bounces off the shiny table. The smell of boiled vegetables struggles to overcome the scent of air freshener in the stifling atmosphere.

I zap into a woman's mind. The first knowledge I grasp is her name from her husband's echoing voice after he left the room.

Now I observe through Mora's eyes. The skin of her inner arms hangs loose with dents resembling the surface of the moon. Her elbows lean on the table with her head resting in her hands.

She doesn't feel my presence while I absorb her sorrow and regret because of the recent loss of her daughter in another part of the country. Unable to travel because of her walking disability, she wonders how she could have made more effort. The clock chimes twelve times, but she's not tired.

No use succumbing to her grief. I must remain impassive if I'm to work with her. This is what I'm here for. My empathy rises with the softness of a gentle breeze lifting damp hair from the back of the neck on a hot day.

Her husband, James, enters the room, wiping his forehead with a handkerchief. We straighten to face him, quivering hands brushing our hair. Although he's sympathetic, the loss is not of his own flesh.

"Here you go." His Australian accent soothes us while places a mug alongside. The sweet aroma of milky tea rises in the steam. A hesitant hand strokes our shoulder. With a sigh, he sits opposite.

James is the perfect person for her to discuss her self-blame with. But she needs a nudge. I whisper, 'Look at his caring manner. He considers your feelings'.

We sip our drink.

Memories flood into her--raising her daughter, teaching her to talk, and welcoming her home after school. Once her daughter set out on a life of her own, time passed faster. An indrawn breath. Seventy years old next birthday. Already her child has died before her.

I ease a suggestion into her mind. 'Those who remain must go on'.

A cloud of regret drags us down.

Mora lost touch because of the distance separating them. She didn't discover what was happening during their brief contacts.

We swallow tears.

Mora retreats into memories. Her daughter drank so much she damaged her liver. Oh, the wicked waste of a precious life. What did she do to cause this flaw in her child? The blame rests with her.

'Each person takes responsibility for their own life', I whisper, soft as a feather.

We nod, unable to let go of the past.

How can I help Mora stop this endless remorse? There's no turning back time, but can she go forward? That's what I must achieve. 'Your husband needs you. If you retreat into self-judgment, and lose the joy in your life, he'll follow your lead and give up too'.

He glances up. A smile flicks over his face. Unwilling to respond, we sink into a numb state.

'He loves you, right here, right now. Nobody lives forever. True love is hard to replace. Regard him as a stranger you've just met, rather than the man you take for granted'. We glance up to study him. Hunched shoulders, neck leaning to one side in the grip of advancing age, fragility replaces his once proud strength.

Shock at his potential loss jolts us.

'He's waiting for you to make the first move'.

Releasing a soft breath, we return his smile and blink away self-accusing opinions. I read the depth of her emotion. She loves him, needs him, now more than ever. A rush of warmth rises into our cheeks and filters into every part of our body.

When she reaches out to share her grief, I lift away.

Dec 12th

12/12/2013

alittlelearningfortwo.blogspot.com

I guess not many people alive today remember the old ways of using ordinary newspaper for Christmas decorations nowadays. Remember paper chains?

My sisters and I used to make chains in the 1940s. We used different strips of paper overlapped and glued together. We used to have competitions to see who could make the longest chain. Being a neat child, I loved doing this because it absorbed me. The peeling linoleum on the floor didn't matter—everyone lived with that in our area during those austere times. It was Christmas. We three girls were excited, even though we had no expectation of fancy toys. We might find a packet of sweets or licorice in our stocking and maybe a Girls Annual from our Grandmother.

www.clker.com

To make a more challenging string of figures, you use the longest section of the newspaper and cut it across into a 3 inch strip. Fold it concertina style to form squares, so that, when you lift the front section, the rest follows upward. Now, draw your design using at least one joining section—like hands clasped on a string of little men, women or dolls. The hands stretch to the side of the top piece of paper. Cut around your design and open it out.

Not only does creating the decoration give satisfaction, but children can join in and use their brain to perfect the skill. It cost nothing, and unites the family.

Dec 10th

12/10/2013

blogs.independent.co.uk

A panel of experts has found that changes are needed to improve the treatment of laboratory animals at one of the UK's leading animal research centers, the Imperial Collage. The report boiled down to the need for more communication between animal care staff and scientists, who failed to work together efficiently to prevent animal suffering.

It breaks my heart to hear about the needless agony of animals. I'd do away with all such experiments if I could. Just Google 'animal experimentation' images to see the horror of it all.

Around the world, people are still fighting wars, taking others into slavery, abusing children, suffering injustice, fleeing from their country to seek refuge elsewhere, preying on others, and committing crimes.

What can a person who is lucky enough to be living free do about changing the social circumstances in a foreign country? As far as I can see, we can only offer sympathy to those who are oppressed and concentrate on our immediate surroundings. As in: Love thy neighbor.

Gone is the time when I could have made a difference. Only my writing will endure. Even that's not certain. The cloud could vanish along with technology and paperbacks could be swept away in a flood. The end of the year when I've blogged every day is drawing to a close. At the moment, I'm undecided about carrying on with a daily blog of views on news.

But I've lived a glorious life.

As an Australian teenager in the 50s, I watched spellbound while Elvis Presley sang about the warden throwing a party in a county jail in America. Even prisoners could break free to sing and dance in the jailhouse. Teenagers everywhere stepped out of their social constrictions and became a driving force to change social order from the strict moral code. From then on, youth took on importance.

I've travelled in a luxury caravan with my family around Australia in the 70s, looking for a perfect spot to live 'back to the earth' and found what I sought at my own front door. I've lived an artistic life-style, branched out on my own, travelled the world, moved to England and settled in a small cottage overlooking a field. Even now in the pink morning mist, paddocks sweep up to tree-covered hillsides and horsed graze in peace.
Hard times and good blend in my memory to make the perfect concoction.

What assessment can you make of your life?

Dec 9th

12/9/2013

www.123rf.com

According to the IT firm Logicalis, the average UK teenager owns six digital devices and posts pictures and information online.

With most using mobile gadgets, it may not be long before youngsters expect always-on connectivity as a right, the poll says. Some 28% of the 1,004 13- to 17-year-olds questioned feel ICT is key to their future career.

The poll showed that 84% of the teenagers polled own a smartphone, 78% a laptop and 51% a tablet device. The top digital devices are:

    Smartphone

    Television

    Laptop

    Games console

    MP3/iPod

    Digital camera

But what of the future? Maybe some of the newly emerging workforce can expect a job in IT, but that's now where production comes from. Some of the teenagers questioned will need to work with other parts of their body besides their fingers and brain. Will we have an even more highly segregated society between physical and office workers?

This is how I see the future in the first draft of a book I wrote last year called The Golden Casket. It's set in 2027 and gives the background of Tallulah McBride, whose diary entries feature at the beginning of each of the Higher Ground series. Note: The Handie is the digital device.

The secretary handed her a note. Tallulah grasped it with a shaking hand.

"I want you to gather information on these men," Badia said. "They're on the list to attend the same function as Prince Abjan. Print out everything you find."

At last. This task would interest her more than making coffee. Tallulah hurried to her desk and concentrated on her screen, fingers flashing over the keyboard, clicking on appropriate articles and saving them to file.

The outer door slid open. Tallulah glanced over. The prince strode in. Two attendants glanced around the room, nodded to Badia and withdrew.

Following the other woman's movements, Tallulah stood and bowed. Her head remained low until the swish of the door told her the prince had entered his office. She focused on her task again. The hours passed by. A deep voice inside the computer announced lunch break and she glanced over at Badia, who studied her Handie.

"You can take your break in the staff room on the lower floor if you like. Or you may prefer to wander around outside."

"The staff room sounds good," Tallulah said. "Are you--?

"Yes. I'll come along with you." Badia stood, covering her Handie with the sleeve of her dress. Swishing her hair back, she led the way to their rest room and picked up her satchel.

What do you predict for our future?

Dec 5th

12/5/2013

www.livescience.com

It seems there really IS such a thing as man flu!

And women are MORE EFFICIANT. But please don't accuse me of being sexist. Brain scientists have found a real reason for the stereotypical differences in male and female behavior.

Neurologists used magnetic resonance imaging (radio-wave scans that produce detailed images of the inside of the body) to study the brains of almost 1,000 volunteers.
The differences between the genders were so profound that men and women might almost be separate species.

Women's and men's brains are wired in fundamentally different ways. Findings, published in the journal Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, found that men generally have more connections within each hemisphere and between the front and back of the brain. In women the stronger connections usually run from side to side, between the left and right hemispheres. This shows that men are more logical and better at coordination. Women are more intuitive, have greater emotional intelligence—like hearing a baby cry—and better memories for words and faces.

The researchers from the University of Pennsylvania concluded that male brains are geared to link perception with doing. This makes men better at, for example, learning a new sport.

www.dailymain.co.uk

The male ability to process information set out in abstract ways—such as maps, which are abstractions of the landscape—was investigated last year by U.S. neuroscientists, who asked groups of men and women to study a complex diagram and draw what it would look like if turned around.

Men could do this faster and better than women. In fact, brain scans showed they had more activity in four areas of the brain associated with decision-making, focusing closely on a task and visualizing.

Female brains, meanwhile, are configured to handle matters of heart and mind and to study others' behavior, then interpret it using intuition and analysis.

The fact that female brains have many more interconnections may help to explain a conundrum that has long puzzled scientists: why women can show just as much intelligence as men even though their brains are 8 per cent smaller.

In March, a study by universities in Los Angeles and Madrid showed that, for women, brain size does not matter because their brains are more efficient. Their highly networked neurons can perform complex tasks that use less energy and fewer brain cells.

www.huffingtonpost.com

The study found that women perform better than men at bigger-picture thinking and keeping track of a changing situation. Men do better on spatial intelligence. Sounds like judging distances to me. I guess primitive man needed this when he went off hunting, leaving his multi-tasking woman in the cave to care for the children.

Now—about man flu. Apparently, men suffer more with coughs and colds because they have extra temperature receptors in the brain and so experience worse symptoms. This information makes me feel much more sympathetic to my husband. We've both been suffering with a cold for over a week. He continually asks me to feel his head, which is sweating, whereas mine is dry. Up to now, I've been ho-hum about it. But now, I understand his suffering. With my newly conceived emotional intelligence, I can interpret his pain and handle his need for attention with more tact.

Nov 25th

11/25/2013

www.scandanavian-hiking.com

I'm in pain today. My agony isn't something that a pill would fix. It's caused by accumulated operations and time, one compacting on the other until there's nothing left of what should have been a beautiful, but aging, body.

I wonder how life treated older people from the past. Perhaps allowing nature to take its course would be better than this lingering half-life. My mind's still active, so I won't explore that avenue any further. At least I can entertain myself by writing. And I can luxuriate in my husband's company, knowing that very few partners are still together in their seventies.

A crackling cave fire sending out fingers of warmth sounds appealing. Just sit in shelter and allow others to find the food. I could pound grain and watch the children in their absence rather than be a burden to the others of my group. But, is this cozy picture one of reality?

www.theguardian.co.uk

Research presented to the Royal Society in London, shows a group of Neanderthals killed and ate their fellow ancient humans, including young children. Using modern forensics techniques, including DNA analysis, the researchers found that 12 Neanderthals, all from the same family, had been eaten by their peers. Remains, discovered at the El Sidrón cave system, near Asturias, in north western Spain, included the bones of three female and three male adults, three teenage boys and three children aged between two and nine-years-old.
According to the findings, the people were eaten raw during one sitting.

Did they run out of game to hunt? Where was their cozy fire? Maybe they were in a hurry. The most astounding thing is that modern man's moral code has changed. On the whole. Discounting murderers.

But, I'm happy with my life. I love what I do—love sharing my stories with you. During no other time on earth, has one isolated woman been able to contact so many other people.

And now, a story. Here's a short excerpt from Knights in Dark Leather, my co-written post-apocalyptic novel, which is the second in line from the Higher Ground Series shown on the right sidebar.

Chapter Forty-Two

Cerridwen opened her eyes and felt stronger. Time to face her fear. The best way to handle her capture might be to try to fit in until a chance to leave arose. Smoke and steam from the cooking pot rose into the central shaft of the underground room. She swung her legs over the edge of the cot and walked towards the fire. "Can I help you with something, Tina?" she asked the old woman with speckled white skin.

"Not today, dear. It's all taken care of. I've made a nice pot of stew vegetables with some roots that Ginny brought back yesterday."

"Smells good." A rasping croak attracted Cerridwen's attention. She swung around. A black bird perched on a tree branch stuck into the ground. "Oh, who are you?"

The crow opened its beak. "Crawk."

Tina laughed. "That's our pet, Fortuna. She broke her wing a year ago. The men wanted to twist her neck and put her out of her misery. But I couldn't let them. She can't fly, but she keeps me company."

"Crawk!" Fortuna hopped from the perch.

"Oh," Tina said. "She doesn't do that very often."

Fortuna waddled towards the centre of the room. Cerridwen squatted and called, but the bird just gave her a quick sideways glance and moved on, glancing up every now and again.

"Anyway," Tina continued. "Ever since she recovered, we've prospered. The earth provides more nourishment for us, and animals are much easier to catch. Fortuna is our good luck."

One for sorrow. Cerridwen had heard a rhyme about black birds once, probably during one of her vivid dreams. "She's beautiful. And what a pity she can't fly anymore."

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Author

Francene Stanley, author of many published novels. If you like my writing, why not consider purchasing one of my books? You'll see them on the sidebar below.
Born in Australia, I moved to Britain half way through my long life.