text:
Chapter One
The robobus lurched over a pothole and Rachel's shoulder banged against the window, waking her from her doze. In the gloom she reached out for Ben but her son was missing from the seat next to her. As she jumped up in a panic the coach swayed to a stop and she hit her head on the overhead lockers. Rubbing the bruise, she squirmed her way over their bags to the central aisle. The robobus lights were dimmed but she made out four dark figures at the front fumbling with the override.
Ben's shrill voice instructed the male adults on procedure.
They ignored him.
He used his Coventry school autobus regularly and Rachel thought, I bet he understands it better than they do.
Seeing her he said, 'Some idiot keyed in the wrong co-ordinates. We're on the M6 to Manchester, not the M54 to Wales.'
When the robobus was finally started on the correct route he snuggled close to her, complaining his feet were cold. So were hers. Heating was defunct and January cold swirled through gaps under the doors and round windows.
Behind them a woman was complaining she'd been robbed earlier in Rugby. 'Just got on the bus when they took my suitcase. Hijacked right in the centre, in North Street. Guns. Scared stiff, I can tell you. Police – what do they care?'
'Should be armed guards on all these buses,' said her companion.
'We might be hijacked again,' Ben whispered excitedly.
'Hope not. It isn't fun.'
She stared out of the window nervously. Robobus headlights fought the blackness ahead bravely but were soon swallowed up by night. No other lights as far as she could see, though they were travelling through one of the planet's largest conurbations. Built in the 'teens, housing, factories, roads and public buildings stretched continuously from Northampton and Kettering in the east to Shrewsbury in the west. A magnet for thieves and criminals across the world.
And dark tonight. National Grid overload yet again.
Everything she and Ben possessed was in the luggage compartment. Arrival in North Wales couldn't come soon enough.
Yes, in spite of earlier doubts, she was right to accept this job. In the Welsh mountains there would be peace for both her and her son. Ben would flourish in the small village school where bullying was under control and no thugs lay in wait outside the school gates. He was struggling to learn Welsh since all lessons were conducted in that language, but that was a small price to pay for safe village streets and kind people. Nothing more savage than the bitter winds and rain of mid January and the rampant wilderness of the Snowdonia Reserve. Dead winter, but spring not far away.
She was woken from her doze by searchlights and Ben scrambling across her to get a better view out of the window.
'It's the border,' she said as the robobus halted and two police came aboard.
'ID,' they demanded and passengers shuffled through bags, wallets and pockets for the essential card.
Ben asked why they'd been stopped.
'Smuggling. We're searching the baggage now.' The policeman pointed to the opposite window where they could see the raised doors of the luggage compartments.
'Smuggling what?' Ben asked Rachel.
'All our food and clothes are rationed. You know that. Some people get hold of them illegally. Sell them and make a mint.'
After an hour they were cleared and off again. And now there were more potholes and the road zigzagged between stone walls so the robobus lurched dangerously from side to side. It staggered up steep turns for mile after weary mile and then grumbled and whined as the road turned sharply downhill and the brakes struggled to hold the vehicle.
It was impossible to sleep. Not that Rachel wanted to, tormented as she was so often by nightmares of losing her son. She tried to reason away her fear that they predicted the future. They were surely only due to the major emotional losses she'd suffered recently. But they persisted nevertheless.
She fingered the necklace she kept hidden under her clothes between her breasts. She never removed her talisman. Four years ago her husband Dan had given her the pendant on a simple chain, insisting she wear it always and take the greatest care of it. 'It's token of our love,' he said as she hugged him. 'No matter what comes, remember I love you.' It turned out to be their last evening together. Did he have a premonition?
At the time she was so happy, relieved that his strange withdrawal during the past months was over at last. For a long while it had been impossible to penetrate his reserve, a deep frustration with life that included her. 'There's nothing wrong,' he always said angrily if she asked.
Her happiness was brief. He left to lecture at the university the following day, but collapsed at a lunch time dental appointment. He was pronounced DOA at Liverpool University hospital. Cardiac arrhythmia, said the coroner. Could have happened at any time. Everyone was sympathetic. She was devastated.
Shortly after that her mother was diagnosed with terminal cancer and Rachel had to resign her research post at the university and take Ben with her to Coventry. Who else could care for the sick woman since Rachel's father and brother had walked out years ago? She taught for four years, in a science post where student misbehaviour caused more and more frustration. At the same time the quality of life was deteriorating rapidly everywhere. Goods became ever more expensive. As unemployment increased those still in work went on strike for higher pay. Street markets sprang up where people sold or bartered family treasures. Second hand electronic goods sold particularly well as firms had long since transferred their manufacture to the Far East, and now their import price had rocketed far beyond the pocket of the average middle class purchaser. Street theft became ever more violent. Food was short and queues long. Only last month she'd been shopping in a supermarket when a mob with guns stripped the shelves.
After her mother's death the nursing carers encouraged her to apply for a post with Eckstazia, a world-wide Christian organisation they supported enthusiastically. It had a strong commitment to welfare and social improvements through research and development and had also part funded her previous research work at Liverpool University. The post was that of field research officer at a hill farm in North Wales, but she didn't expect to be successful as she'd been out of the field for so long. The application was difficult because she became gadget poor after she left the university and had to rely on her school's antiquated computer system.
Still, she applied and was amazed to be offered an online interview with Dr Shuji Akimoto, leader of the team at Eckstazia's Penybwlch Research Facility. She read up his web profile on Eckstazia's site, and learnt he was in his late fifties, American born of Japanese and French/American Indian parentage. His intimidating degrees and qualifications were listed, including senior positions held over the years. He was a world citizen, educated in Canada and the UK, a linguist, a poet (four slim volumes, a website dedicated to spiritual themes of love and beauty) and an artist who modestly called himself a dauber (paintings hung in important art collections – including the Tate Modern and those of the Emir of Kuwait, Yeo Lili of Shanghai, Professor Hilary Barron the European Union's advisor on ethics and religion and the British Secretary of State for Health. The latter had donated his painting to the prestigious Great Ormond Street Hospital where seriously sick children would be uplifted by its depiction of heavenly joys.)
She found a slot on the computer's timetable and completed a mock interview program that recorded the interviewee's responses. The replayed video shocked her. She thought of herself as attractive, young, active. A thirty-year-old well up in the teaching profession. She saw a run down woman with straggly dull brown hair. A spotty face from poor diet, tired green grey eyes with a furrow between them, a broken incisor from a mugging as she walked home from work.
She attempted to spruce herself up for the online interview. She paid good money for a decent haircut. Bought cheap makeup to hide skin blemishes, eye bags and lines, using it with caution. Eckstazia considered female camouflage to be unscriptural and unnecessary.
Shuji Akimoto was flat faced with heavy lidded eyes. Luxuriant black hair, temples well covered, and not a fleck of grey. In spite of his awesome profile he was gentle and encouraging.
She stuttered, repeating herself. But to her amazement she was offered the post at Penybwlch, a farm rented from the huge Snowdonia Reserve. Pay was less than her teacher's salary, but board and lodging were included for herself and Ben. Dr Akimoto also appointed an online pastor, Emmanuel Rappen, to guide her spiritual path. Three months ago she signed her contract. She checked the box declaring her faith and commitment to the Lord Jesus Christ and her belief in his imminent return to judge the earth.
At last the robobus stopped at their destination, a small town on the North Wales coast, and Rachel and Ben were met by a young woman about the same height as Rachel. She wore a brown padded jacket and trousers. Her face was shadowed by the only bright thing about her, a gaudily striped knitted hat dragged almost over her eyes against the chill.
She said briskly, 'You're late. I'll be lucky if I don't get a parking fine and that won't please the boss. Should've mobiled.'
'Don't have one.'
Rachel and Ben collected their luggage while the woman took Rachel's small day bag, and hurried her across the bus bays towards an old and dirty Skoda. Ben followed, trying to be grownup and only snivelling quietly as he dragged the case on wheels with his little rucksack on his shoulders.
'Brought the whole house, yeh?' the woman said as Rachel shoved her holdall into the boot, then Ben's case and finally her own large rucksack that felt weighty as Atlas's heaven.
'It's all we have.' Everything in the world.
As the Skoda coughed into life the woman said, 'I'm Alyson Gunnarsson. From Iceland. Obviously. How old's the boy?'
'I'm nearly ten,' Ben said loudly from the back seat.
'You'll be taking him to the junior school tomorrow?'
'Yes. Appointment with the head at nine thirty.'
'Then you'll take Freya to the comp for eight thirty. Thanks.'
'My daughter.' Alyson swerved to avoid a pothole as the road became steeper an narrower. 'Martin's booked the car for ten thirty so you must rearrange schedules with him. He's our analyst. Pleasant enough, you shouldn't have trouble.'
'I've been promised my own car.'
Alyson made a gravelly noise that Rachel interpreted as a laugh. 'Lady muck are we? You're only a teacher.' She paused. 'I mean teaching's a fine profession in its own way, but you're only a beginner in this job. What d'you know about research?'
'I've a masters degree in entomology. Research in the Wirral Reserve, part funded by Eckstazia, while I was at Liverpool University. Lyme disease in humans. I studied diseases of the ticks that carry the sickness so we could prepare strategies for reducing the numbers of carrier insects.'
'Eric – my husband – and I were told you're just a widowed teacher from Coventry.'
'That as well. I went back there after Dan died because my mother was ill.'
'Better now?'
'Dead too.'
'I'm sorry.'
Rachel swallowed hard and turned round to Ben. He was sleeping lightly, head drooping on his rucksack. She persisted, 'Pastor Emmanuel promised me a car with the job.'
'Oh, Emmanuel. He wouldn't know. And you have got a car. You share it with five of us. Me and Eric, Martin and two technicians.' Alyson swung the car expertly into a driveway 'This is the top of the pass and the road ends here. There's only a track down the other side back to the coast.'
Their way was blocked by a pair of large black metal gates. In the car headlights they shone plain and functional, barricading the Eckstazia scientists in their quarters.
'A bit Gothic.' Alyson opened the window and held her hand out. The gates swung open. 'Sometimes the mechanism doesn't recognise the car. So you open the window and flash your key card at it. That usually works. If it doesn't – contact one of us. You don't want to be left on the wrong side, especially at night.' She drove up a long gravel drive and parked the car alongside three others. Three top of the range hydrogen fuelled cars.
'I'm in the cottage behind us. You're in the main house. With the top brass. Shuji, Jennifer and James. And canny Annie Davies.'
All Rachel could see of the house was an immense bulk of blackness with lights in a few upstairs windows. The stately door was opened to them by an old woman with a twisted mouth who was less than pleased to see them. They dumped their bags in a grand entrance hall and followed Annie into a dismal kitchen. Here they struggled to eat stale bread, jam and meat flavoured paste, all washed down with stewed tea and served by a peeved Annie. She muttered in a strong Welsh accent that people should arrive at the time expected and cursed the estate's tenant farmer who hadn't delivered enough milk. No sign of Dr Akimoto or the other two scientists who lived in the house.
Ben was screaming in terror behind Rachel, but she struggled in vain to turn round and clutch him. The steady stare of the judge pinned her down like a beetle in a display cabinet. An old woman judge with heavy glasses wearing a shoulder length wig.
That in itself was odd. Surely wigs had been abolished years ago.
'Mummy! Mummy!'
A treacly inertia pervaded Rachel's whole body. She gaped with open mouth at the old woman.
The judge said, 'Your son is forfeit.' She put a black cap on her head. 'And he will be taken away from you and reared by persons unknown and . . . '
'Mummy! Wake up!' Ben was shaking her and squealing like a pig, and suddenly she was awake in the strange bed.
'Wha's matter?'
'Mum, listen.'
Real shrieking. Distant but clear. Piercing through the wind that growled round the corners of the unknown house. Vibrating with terror through the night.
She leapt out of bed, knocking her head on the low ceiling of the unfamiliar room. Swearing, she rubbed the hurt, then put her arms round her son.
'Shh, deary.'
His trembling subsided as the sound died away.
The room was grey and ghostly in the moonlight and she'd forgotten where the light tap was. Then she remembered this huge Victorian house was so outdated it still had switches like the ones she'd used when she was Ben's age. She fumbled across the wall near the door, flicked the light on and pulled on jacket, trousers and trainers.
'Don't go, Mum.'
Still half in her nightmare she dared not leave him alone. 'OK, come too. Here's your gear.'
The screaming began again, a different tone of agony and despair. It faded. Then a final tortured screech made them both jump. Rachel located its direction to the left of the house.
'Torch,' she muttered, rummaging through her untidy bags for her light stick. Nothing. And where in this unknown house would she find one?
She opened the door onto darkness. No one was up and about. Four other people, all sleeping through such a racket. How likely was that? Did no one care?
Briefly she thought of waking Annie. But where did the old housekeeper sleep? And what if she should barge into one of the scientists' rooms by mistake? She hadn't met any of them yet. As for the tenant farmer Annie had spoken of so scathingly, she only knew that he lived alone in the Ty Bach, wherever that might be on this vast Welsh estate.
She searched in vain for the hall light switch. Remembering the stairs went up to a landing before turning downstairs again she hunted cautiously with her foot. Which way did they turn? She'd been so exhausted yesterday evening after their long journey and the meagre meal with Annie, that she could barely remember how to reach the hall. The wooden stairs creaked and her sweaty hand slipped on the polished banister. She held out her other hand to Ben as he followed her. His fears had faded into a delicious excitement at this adventure, safe with Mum.
'Look, Mum.' He picked up a light stick from the hall cupboard and waved it till it shone, illuminating their troubled faces. 'I saw it there last night.'
'Well done.'
'It's not a very good one.'
'It'll do. There's moonlight outside.' They smiled at each other and her heart lurched. He looked so like his father sometimes. Large brown eyes with long lashes, dark hair with the same rebellious lock that always fell over his forehead and a quick impatience with anything that displeased him.
The front door was locked, and she was unsure of the safety number. Ben shone the light on her keypad as she fumbled with it, and she found the combination on the second try and opened the door onto pitch darkness.
The moon was occasionally obscured by rushing clouds and the wind was bitter as black ice. She heard rather than saw the tall pines soughing and clattering in the gale. Bare branches of oak and beech scraped twigs together. Evergreen shrubs obstructed the pair, the spiky holly and berberis pulled at their clothes. Damp dead leaves whipped round their ankles.
Blessing her good sense of direction and Ben's torch, she shortly found a gravel path leading through the garden. A few granite steps down, then a small gate and they were standing in the covered car park filled by the scientists' cars.
'Over there,' Ben said, waving his torch towards the farm buildings, all in darkness. He clutched at her hand, his little fingers cold as stone. 'He's gone quiet. D'you think he's dead?'
'Hope not.' She suddenly felt isolated and stupid. Why on earth had she come without backup? Why had she brought her young son? She stood irresolute but he pulled her on as the moon came out briefly and lit up a gap between the sheds. Cautiously they approached, Ben tiptoeing dramatically at Rachel's side as they turned into a yard. In the far corner light from a window shone a deformed rectangle on the concrete.
'That's it,' Ben stage-whispered. 'He's in there.'
The wind tore at them, needling them with frost. Around the yard the trees clamoured high above her head, immense giants guarding the hillside behind the farm. She had never heard so much noise from woodland, never imagined mere trees could make more racket than city traffic outside their old flat in Coventry.
Yet nothing moved in the shelter of the yard except a steamy smokiness swirling from cracks in the closed door beside the window. It wreathed around a yard brush and upturned barrow silent as mist in a graveyard.
'You stay here,' she ordered and took the light stick. 'Scarper if I shout.'
She approached the light stealthily, shining her torch along the open sheds on her left. A van. Implements whose use she couldn't guess. And something hanging on the wall that looked like a prohibited gun.
The lit window was filthy. A dark human figure moved across the room but dirt prevented any sight of the corpse.
She shivered. No one could expect her to confront the murderer or murderers alone. Now a hasty retreat, a wake up call to the people in the house. . .
Splashing. A disgusting stirring sound, liquid sloshing and wood thudding on metal.
She retched, stumbling against the yard brush which fell with a noisy thud.
Angry barking from the room. The door was flung open showering light and billowing steam across the yard. A wild dog leapt towards her, then crouched, teeth bared and nose wrinkled in an evil snarl.
'Sy 'na?' A rough male voice. 'See 'm off, Toss.'
The dog's tail lashed and ears flattened. Its crouch became prelude to a spring.
Ben rushed to her, screaming, clutching at her wildly, trying to protect her. He shrieked still louder as a tall figure darkened the light. It gave an order the terrified pair couldn't understand, and the dog shuffled away, eyes fixed on the intruders and still growling. Then the silhouette turned to them.
A command that meant nothing.
'You. Come here.'
Reluctantly Rachel obeyed, shielding her son behind her.
Steam writhed round the man, issuing from the room behind like smoke from hell. His boots were big as stallion hooves. His hair stuck up like horns. He filled the doorway, his head brushing the lintel. He was rank with sweat and farmyard filth.
He looked her up and down. 'You're the latest nosy parker.'
'I'm Rachel Kerem, ecologist.' She couldn't control the tremble in her voice.
'Exactly.' His Welsh accent was harsh, lacking music and rhythm, his English impeccable. 'Snooper.'
'Screams,' Ben whispered. 'Woke me up.'
The man moved to one side allowing light to shine on the boy's white face. 'They didn't tell me . . . so there's a child as well.'
'I'm not a child. I'm Ben,' the boy protested as bravely as he dare.
'Double trouble.'
At this angle she could see his face, hard and narrow with twisted mouth, broken nose and one eye slightly askew. His age? So weather scarred was his face that he could have been any age from thirty to sixty. He wore a brown nondescript garment covered in stains that hid most of his body. Glancing down she saw the knife in his bloodied hand, and she gagged and jumped back.
Immediately the dog crept forward. It snarled and she felt its hot breath on her bare ankles.
The man had followed her gaze and now he played with his knife, passing it in front of his throat suggestively while he smirked at them both.
Ben, seeing the knife and feeling his mother shake, began to cry.
'Shut it,' ordered the murderer. He tossed the knife behind him and it clattered on the floor. 'Curse you, it's only a pig. Have you never heard one squeal before?' He turned back into the outhouse and Rachel followed him cautiously up a small ramp, the dog still creeping along behind. Now they were standing on the same level she realised the butcher was smaller and slighter than he'd appeared at first, about her own height and lean as a whippet.
The room was drowning in steam. Mistily the pair saw a pale pink body hanging naked and bristly, its hind legs roped and slung over a hook in the rafters. Blood dripped slowly down its snout from the red gash in its throat. As it swung gently it spattered the wet concrete floor with drops that mingled in the mud left by the butcher's filthy boots. Cursing, he steadied the corpse over a stainless steel bucket threequarters full of blood. With his other hand he stirred the thickening contents with a wooden spatula. Wood on metal. Rachel recognised the sound.
'Black puddings,' said the butcher. Then he grinned at Ben, his teeth white, uneven and sharp as a fox's. He held out the stick and blood from its tip plopped back into the bucket. 'Have a stir, bachgen?'
Ben moaned with fear and clutched his mother's arm.
The man made an exclamation of contempt and turned his attention to a metal bath of water bubbling merrily over a couple of gas rings. He picked up a scraping knife, washed it in the water and held out the handle to Rachel. 'Now you're here, make yourself useful.'
She gaped at him.
He ordered, 'I'll scald. You scrape off the bristles.'
'No way.' She put her arm round Ben, turning him to the door. The dog snarled. She said coldly, 'Keep your tyke under control.'
He sneered but whistled through his teeth and the cur trotted to him. Then he turned to the butchery tools laid out sharp and shining on a slate shelf and started to hone the knife on a steel, still whistling. The dog licked at the spots of blood and he cursed it, pushing it away with his broken boot.
Ben didn't cry until he and Rachel reached the front door. 'He's a thug. Why did he kill it?'
'Bacon. Sausages.' She put her arm round him.
'Poor pig.'
The hall light had been switched on and as Rachel fastened the door behind them a woman screeched, 'Where have you been at this time of night? Disturbing us all.' Annie the housekeeper shuffled towards them from the direction of the kitchen. She wore fluffy red slippers on her feet and a thick wool knitted robe in shades of brown and fawn that reached from her shoulders to her ankles. Her thin grey hair hung in night time disarray on her shoulders. The left side of her lip was distorted and dribbled spit which she dashed away angrily as she continued, 'You don't wander about at night. Ever. And taking the child. How disgraceful!'
Why should Rachel explain herself to this woman who was, after all, only the housekeeper for the research team? Even so, she felt the need to justify her prowling. 'We were woken by screaming. I'm surprised everyone else slept through it.' But even as she spoke she realised she was the only ignorant one in the house. They would all know it was just a pig. Yet did the farmer – she couldn't remember his name though Annie had told her earlier – did he always butcher his animals at this crazy hour? She glanced at her watch. After one o'clock. Friday already. And home slaughtering was totally illegal.
'You've been down the yard?' Annie's Welsh shriek was as unmusical as the farmer's. 'Don't you ever go there. You're not employed to nosy around.'
An upstairs door opened and a man's voice called angrily, 'What's the matter? How can I get to sleep with all this noise?'
'Just problems with the new employee, Doctor Akimoto.' Annie was cringingly polite.
'The woman's only just arrived and she's making trouble? Tell her to be quiet. Some of us have to work tomorrow.' His door banged shut.
'Now get yourself and the boy back to bed and no more wandering, Mrs Kerem.' Annie followed them upstairs and waited until they entered their room.
Ben was shivering as Rachel tucked his quilt round him. 'Story, Mum,' he whispered, but she was now so utterly weary that her brain couldn't retrieve any of his favourite space invader tales.
'A Jesus one,' he said.
She tried Jesus calling the little children, but he said, 'I want Dad.'
'He's in heaven with Granny, dear, where there isn't any unhappiness.'
'I want him here.'
'So do I, but Jesus wanted him too. Jesus knows best what's good for us all. One day we'll all be together again but you and I must wait and be patient.'
'Why does my other Granny not like me?'
'She does really.' How could she explain that Dan's parents had never accepted the daughter-in-law who wasn't a practising Jew? She felt sometimes they blamed her for Dan's early and sudden death four years ago.
Ben started to cry like a little child so she helped him into her own bed, and asked Jesus to take care of them both. He tossed for a while, but at last he slept, breathing nasally with little snorts.
Unable to sleep herself, Rachel lay on her back, eyes open. Cloud had thickened, rain started to patter and then to lash against the window. Trees groaned and the night was full of unexplained thuds and bangs. The old house itself creaked in time with the gusts of wind.
She hadn't exactly endeared herself to her new boss tonight. She fondled her pendant automatically, her protective charm. Apologies would be in order tomorrow – no, today. In a few hours. If only she didn't feel so tired, so confused.
She wondered about the box on the nearby table. 'Courtesy of Pastor Emmanuel' it said on the label, but she and Ben had been too tired to open it when they arrived. And she knew in advance what it would contain. An e-book full of dull homilies. As if she wasn't fully aware of Christian morals. She wasn't too fussed about this spiritual mentor Dr Akimoto had provided. A doddery old parson without a doubt. She'd received a few emails via the school computer but hadn't troubled to access his website. Alyson, the researcher from Iceland, had been pretty dismissive of him.
Ben muttered in his sleep, flung out his arms and whacked her on the chin. She grinned and moved his arm away. Her bed was a large single one, but he'd crept well into the centre in his sleep. As she rolled him back gently she heard a door beneath them open and shut stealthily. Footsteps. A door or cabinet lid creaking open and then slamming shut loudly. Some angry words, faintly, in a man's voice. The door opening and closing again, and footsteps on concrete fading among the noise of wind and rain.
That tenant farmer without a doubt, whose name she'd forgotten but whose ugly features were indelibly printed in her memory. Bringing in the pork joints.
The whole incident was bizarre. Killing pigs in a shed at midnight! When all animals had to be slaughtered at properly registered abattoirs. Humanely. In sterile conditions for fear of passing diseases to consumers. Every animal was electronically tagged, its provenance assured and for the past four years, all meat had been rationed. Diet control for an obese nation said the government posters. The usual weasel words. Everyone knew the failed euro could no longer buy cheap food abroad and idle British farmers failed to cover the shortfall.
Furthermore domesticated animals were forbidden within five miles of wildlife reserves. And this man kept pigs actually on Snowdonia Reserve property. He had an illegal dog as well.
The door below opened again, the cabinet lid squeaked but the man didn't leave. Where was the Ty Bach, the Little House where he lived? Tomorrow she'd find out what was going on.
The windows flexed and a loose slate complained to the gale as tree branches scraped across the roof.
'Penybwlch, head of the pass,' she said softly. 'Pen uh boolch.' No, she hadn't got it quite right yet in spite of studying Welsh these past three months. She had a good ear for the nuances of language, and was convinced she and Ben would soon master Welsh intricacies.
Light woke her, a pale crisp glow of winter dawn barely illuminating the walls and furniture. Ben slept peacefully beside her, his face innocent in the dim light. She crept from the bed, careful to dodge the beam that she'd struck last night in her hurry to get down the yard. The ceiling was low, quite different from the lofty hall and stairway. The windowsill was puddled with water and reached barely higher than her knees. Her fingers became wet as she traced them along the leaking wooden frames. She looked out and drew a deep breath. It was so beautiful.
The trees surrounding the house whispered and waved peacefully. A narrow valley extended down from the house between steep crags silhouetted against the slow dawn. It was full of rhododendrons, the scourge of these wild valleys. But how imperial they'd be in their spring purple in a few months. The hillsides were covered in dead bracken on their lower slopes and heather clad to their tops. Far beyond was a silver glimpse of river with rounded hills on its further bank. The winter sun was just rising above them, still orange and pearl. She would love the mornings in this mysterious land so full of hidden histories and ancient superstitions. A bewitching land that could captivate the heart.
Immediately beneath her a concrete path led from a back door down past bushes to the hidden yard. She glimpsed slate roofs among the trees. Those must be the farm buildings of last night's adventure.
She shivered, hoping they would have little further contact with the uncouth butcher.
To her right the main part of the mansion jutted forward into a garden of high tangled shrubs. The door she and Ben had used was in that section, but she couldn't see the path, steps or carpark from here. Now she realised there were two distinct parts to the house. The larger part was an addon, far more splendid than the original farmhouse. She and Ben were housed in the old section with its low ceilings and small windows.
They'd been too exhausted last night to do more than give the room a cursory glance before tumbling into the beds. Now she noted the fitted cupboard along one wall, two upright chairs pushed under the table and two easy chairs. No pictures, but a wall computer screen above the table old as the one she'd had as a child, in the happy days before the family break-up. The carpet was threadbare in patches, and covered with a mothy sheepskin beside the larger bed. A bed almost as old as the house. She'd seen a similar one in Coventry. A young woman was selling up family treasures on the street, anxiously polishing the high leather headboard with its painted flowers and studded edges. Who, she wondered at the time, would buy such a monster? Yet here in Penybwlch the old bed looked homely.
She rummaged in her holdall for some clothes. The bathroom was across a narrow hallway and by the time she returned Ben was up and fiddling with the box on the table.
'What's this, Mum?'
'How exciting!' she encouraged with false enthusiasm. 'Open it up.'
He pulled back the cardboard flaps and packaging. First he found a pair of binocular glasses.
Rachel inspected them. 'High lens diameter. Wide angle. And night vision.' She fitted them on and stared through the window, testing the magnification.
Ben opened another box. 'A mobile.'
'No, it's a yapp!' his mother exclaimed.
'What's that?'
'Smartphone. The name's a corruption of i-apps. I haven't had one since we left Liverpool.' My god, this was an improvement on the expected homilies! She thought as she fiddled with it, unable at first to access the information she wanted. 'Listen. It pronounces Welsh words and phrases. Oh, and it can ID plants and animals. It magnifies too. I can get any information I need.' She'd check out Reserve regulations concerning the keeping of domestic animals among other things. She turned its screen on her son. 'If you'd been chipped it'd tell me all about your life. As it is I get limited info about your name and age.'
He snatched it and tried it on his mother. Laughing they played with the gadget until it suddenly rang out a brief tune. The screen image flickered and Penybwlch buildings appeared, sunlight shimmering over roofs and trees waving in spring breezes. She transferred the little image to the wallscreen above the table and together they watched and listened as music played. An orchestral piece by the modern composer Podolski, soothing and spiritual. A piece Rachel had always loved but had rarely had time or opportunity to listen to in her frenetic and gadget-poor life.
As the image and music faded a young man's face appeared, an open face with honest eyes and full mouth. Pastor Emmanuel Rappen, present in realtime.
'Good morning, Rachel and Ben.' His eyes were deep blue and enticing as the sea on a summer's day. Behind him the sun shone across sand dunes and shingle.
'Good morning,' they replied in unison. And Rachel stammered, 'Thank you. For everything . . . all these.'
'You're welcome. I hope your stay at Penybwlch'll be happy and fruitful.' His shoulder length hair shone gold and copper in the sunlight, an aureole encircling his face. 'Remember how precious you both are to us all. Partly because you are widow and orphan, in need of comfort and a home, but mostly for what you are in yourselves. You'll enrich our work for the betterment of human lives everywhere. And remember, I have your interests at heart specially. You may contact me by yapp at any time, and I'm available directly every Friday evening so we may discuss the past week and look forward to the next.'
The picture faded. Beautifully inscribed words claimed, 'No one who trusts God will be brought to ruin. Psalm 34, verse 22.'
'Who's that?' whispered Ben, awestruck.
'Emmanuel, our friend and guide. I didn't know . . . never realised . . . '
'What, Mum?'
'He looks so young.'
Ben shrugged and turned back to playing with the binocular glasses, but Rachel pointed at the screen. 'That's true. Trust, and we'll be safe.'
'That guy with the pig was scary.'
'And his dog. But God'll keep us.'
But there was a big problem ahead. Her angry supervisor, disturbed from righteous sleep at the end of a hard day, Dr Shuji Akimoto.
When she and Ben entered the dining room she recognised his distinctive smooth black hair as he stooped over containers of fruit juices, cereals, milk and fresh fruit arranged on a magnificent oak sideboard. A feast indeed.
He was taller than she'd expected and his face was severely lined unlike his enhanced screen image. He said solemnly, 'Good morning, Rachel and Ben Kerem,' and gave them a slight bow. 'I hope you slept well after your night excursion.'
She couldn't tell whether he was angry or forgiving. 'I'm sorry we disturbed you. I . . . '
'Did you see the pig?' Ben asked. 'The man killed it. It screamed. Just like a human. There was blood . . . '
'Quite so,' Shuji interrupted. 'You're an observant young man, I see.'
'And it . . . '
Shuji said amicably, 'I think it's best if we all forget about that incident.'
But she was not sure it would be forgotten. Still, breakfast was inviting; she hadn't seen such a spread for years. She and Ben helped themselves with gusto.
The dining room was far more attractive than the kitchen. Round the top of high white walls was a frieze of swagged ivy picked out in pale green, and a bronze-finish chandelier hung from a central boss. The windows had thick stone mullions giving distinction to the room. A few easy chairs were arranged by the window with an occasional table covered with neat rows of research magazines and a vase of silk flowers. The carpet was thick and dark green, the table a polished oak matching the sideboard. The table's centrepiece was a Chinese bowl containing more silk flowers among gold centred ivy leaves and trailing periwinkles.
As Rachel and Ben sat down, Annie entered, in long black dress with white apron, her hair scraped back into a wispy roll. She pushed a heated trolley with canteens of porridge and scrambled eggs. She served Shuji with the eggs, ignoring Rachel and Ben, and returned to the kitchen as silently as she'd come.
Shuji said as he wiped his mouth on a crisp white serviette, 'I'm busy today, but I hope you'll both join us all for dinner tonight. Tomorrow you and I will discuss your work here, Rachel. Ten o'clock. In my study.' Again that slight bow as he rose from table. No smile, no frown.
The other two scientists were still absent when Rachel and Ben finished. As they returned to their room Annie met them in the hall, her currant black eyes staring malevolently at them. 'You've got the car. You pick up my parcel from the store on the quay.'
'Can't the farmer collect it in his van?'
'Out of action. No fuel.' Annie's hair roll dropped a couple of pins as she shook her head.
It had looked road worthy last night, and surely every farmer had privileged fuel tokens, unlike most of the population. But there was no reason for Annie to lie.
Annie unfolded a paper sketch map of the farm buildings and surrounding land. 'This part is farmland and you're barred from it . . . ' She stabbed at it with a crooked arthritic finger. 'Unless Dr Akimoto gives permission. Or,' and she gave a derisive snort, 'William Parry.'
Of course. That was the name of the lout in the yard. Rachel placed the map carefully in her pocket.
Will Rachel find romance and a kind stepfather for her troubled son?
Why was the uncouth tenant farmer killing pigs at midnight?
What is hidden on William Parry's farmland?
What is the real reason for Eckstazia's research into deadly cattle plague?
Four Short Stories - Strange Tales scifi, romantic, horror, with a twist
October's new story -
Annie - what is the secret the old Welsh woman has hidden all her life?


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- This event has passed.
Weekend Wild Things
August 13, 2016 @ 9:30 am - 11:30 am
Come join the Riveredge Nature Center's new, once monthly Saturday land stewardship group, "The Weekend Wild Things". Are you interested in getting involved with land stewardship at Riveredge? Can't make it to Habitat Healers because of school or work? We now have a weekend option!

subset: commoncrawl


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Ken Robson - The Piano Player © All rights reserved
Wedding receptions, wedding breakfasts, receptions and ceremonies, corporate events, functions, dinner parties
The Piano Player for all occasions
Telephone: 01257 474759 Mobile: 07731 197045
Please enter the details of your event below and I will contact you as soon as possible.
Telephone: 01257 474759
Mobile: 07731 197045
The fees depend on individual requirements such as event type and location, or where appropriate, an agreed set price for an event can be arranged.
Please call to discuss your requirements with no obligation.
Where information is known, please specify date and location of your event and whether you require a piano to be included as part of the quotation.


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September 3, 2015 – Lima, Peru - The Young AmericasBusiness Trust(YABT) and the Organization of American States (OAS) launched the XI Edition of the Talent and Innovation Competition of the Americas (TIC Americas) and its special category focused on environmental innovation, the Eco-Challenge. This event took place at the Pontificia Universidad Católica del Perú on September 3, 2015 with the support of its Centro de Innovación para el Desarrollo Emprendedor.
Over 150 people from the academic, private, and public sector attended its launching – among them, university students, young entrepreneurs, professors and coordinators of entrepreneurship programs, and local partners.
The event featured a panel on "Young Entrepreneurs: Drivers of Sustainable Development" where three Peruvian entrepreneurs – Nadia Balducci, director of L.O.O.P, Jhosep Thetsu, co-founder of WAPOSAT, and Wuilmer Olaya, founder of Nuevo Milenio Fútbol Club – shared their thoughts and experiences about their philosophy to succeed in their home country, Peru. The panel was moderated by the Eco-Challenge Coordinator, Isabella Troconis.
The outcome of this panel will be incorporated in a report that will be presented during the Annual Meetings of the World Bank and International Monetary Fund on October 8, 2015 in Lima, Peru.
Youth between 18 and 34 years old can now register their business a business idea or start-up that propose solutions to the social, economic and environmental challenges that face Latin American and Caribbean countries in three different categories: 1) Start-up, 2) SME, and 3) Eco-Challenge.
For this edition, the Eco-Challenge is asking young entrepreneurs to come up with business solutions to the following 4 environmental challenges: 1) sustainable agriculture, 2) massive collection and recycling of PET bottles, 3) access to water, and 4) a smartphone app to promote sustainable lifestyles.
Registered participants will automatically have access to our online tools available on the Boot Camp to improve their Business prototype. In doing so, participating entrepreneurs will benefit from online training resources to improve their business plans, prototypes to increase their chances to win one of the award categories.
The best teams will have the opportunity to participate in the finals that will take place within the framework of the OAS General Assembly in June 2016. These entrepreneurs will have the opportunity to connect with mentors, investors, private sector and international organizations representatives to boost their projects and turn them into successful sustainable businesses in Latin America and the Caribbean.
The Talent and Innovation Competition in the Americas (TIC Americas) is an international entrepreneurship platform and a business accelerator for young entrepreneurs led by the Young Americas Business Trust (YABT) with the support of the Organization of American States (OAS).
In 2009, PepsiCo and YABT partnered to create the Eco-Challenge, a category of awards within TIC Americas, focused on innovative projects that offer creative solutions to environmental problems. In 2013, cbc and YABT partnered to create the regional Eco-Challenge aimed at promoting innovative solutions for environmental problems developed by Young Central Americans. In 2015, Postobón joined YABT, PepsiCo, and cbc in order to increase efforts in Colombia and create a Colombian national eco-challenge category. From 2009 to 2015, registrations have gone up from 300 teams annually to 1,522 teams for the Eco-Challenge category within TIC Americas. This significant increase demonstrates the growing involvement of the Americas youth in designing innovative solutions to environmental issues.


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Steve Parker leaving ETEL
European Tyre Enterprises Ltd (ETEL) CIO and commercial director, Steve Parker is to leave the company. Parker, who has been with the business for over 30 years (first at Stapleton's and latterly at ETEL), is taking a break from the industry to "spend time with his family and pursue other interests".
Kenji Murai, chief executive of ETEL, commented: "Steve informed us some months ago of his desire to take some time away from the industry. His experience and insight over many years has been incredibly valuable to the success of our business and we will obviously miss being able to draw on his expertise. However, we fully respect his decision and wish him well; he will always be welcome at ETEL House. It is with the warmest personal regards that we wish Steve every success in his new endeavours, one of which is expected to be a consultancy role with ETEL."
Steve Parker said: "I have spent many enjoyable years with both Stapletons and ETEL and have mixed emotions about leaving. I feel sad to be leaving my colleagues whom I have worked alongside for many years, but am looking forward excitedly to what the future holds in store for me and exploring new challenges. I greatly appreciate the many opportunities and memories I've been fortunate to experience through my time at ETEL and thank Itochu and Ken for these. I wish ETEL only good fortune and success in their many years ahead."
According to the company, Parker will phase out his involvement with ETEL, scaling back his role in the business over the coming "weeks and months".


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Tigers Win, But The Bullpen Could Be A Problem
By: Eric Thomas
The Tiger's first game of the 2013 season was encouraging. The offense was dangerous as advertised and Torii Hunter looked like the free agent acquisition fans had hoped for. Justin Verlander got it done; he threw more pitches than you'd like but he handed Drew Smyly a scoreless game in the sixth. That's when the trouble started.
Smyly had a bad day, earning two runs until Al Albuquerque shut the door. Tigers fans nervous about the bullpen had their fears realized in the season's first game. Phil Coke earned the save in the ninth, as he seemed to have the same fire from last year's post-season. In the end, closer by committee worked as the Tigers picked up their first win.
Coming into the season, the team seems to have a glaring Achilles' Heel. Since Jose Valverde imploded in the playoffs last year, they haven't had an answer for those last three outs. The Tigers find themselves back in the same position as they left off in last year's World Series, searching for answers at the back end of the bullpen.
As for the good news, the lineup doesn't appear to have last year's holes. Hunter started his career as a Tiger with two hits, Victor Martinez was a sight for sore eyes even as he went 0 for 3, Peralta and Infante had hits so we don't have to start the season talking about the bottom of the lineup. It's only the first game, and they looked like they were playing on the set of John Carpenter's classic "The Thing," but there is reason to believe that the offense will be more consistent than they were last year.
It's hard not to like Prince Fielder, legging out extra bases in his first at bat of the season and charging the plate on a wild pitch to score his first run. Tigers fans felt sheepish about his signing over a year ago but he's turned into one of the bigger workhorses, figuratively and literally.
Justin Verlander was himself. Baseball's newly christened highest paid pitcher gave up three hits in five innings on the way to his first ever win on opening day. Starting pitching isn't a likely problem with the Tigers; it's the bullpen that will cause the most groans and Rolaid moments. As much as the lineup changes, the bullpen stays the same. Valverde's perfect 2011 was still bumpy, fans often forced to watch the ninth inning through their fingers. You had to hide in another room with Todd Jones.
Smyly struggled, but the others in the bullpen provided hope. Al Albuquerque struck out back to back with the bases loaded, Joaquin Benoit didn't give up any home runs and Phil Coke picked up the save. It's hard to trust Phil Coke against anyone right handed, but he seems to be the hot hand as the Tigers start the season.
It's the first game, so it's early to evaluate anything. An optimist would point out that Justin Verlander and the bats look good even when they're playing on the planet Hoth. The bullpen is clearly the problem but they were good enough to beat the Twins and could likely limp along in the American League Central without much trouble until another arm emerges.
The Tigers have the day off today, They play again in Minnesota on Wednesday; Anibal Sanchez gets his first start against former Pirates pitcher Kevin Correia.
for more features.


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NFSiostat Plotter V4
After I finished nfsiostat_plotter_v3 I had several requests for a new feature. I admit that I didn't make it clear that the nfsiostat script needed a file named "iostat_file.pickle" and this caused some confusion. Let me explain.
Nfsiostat does not collect CPU stats and I wanted to be able to plots CPU usage versus the NFS read and write usage. The only way to get that data is to run iostat when you run nfsiostat. Then you process the iostat output using iostat_plotter. That code produces a file name "iostat_file.pickle" which nfsiostat_plotter then uses for the CPU usage information. Yes, it does seem a little complicated for just adding CPU usage data to the plots but that is the way it is.
People got an error in nfsiostat_plotter.py if they didn't run iotstat_plotter first and they got confused. I didn't make this step clear. In V4 of nfsiostat_plotter.py, I've added the ability to check for the file "iostat_file.pickle". If the file exists, the plots include CPU usage. If the file does not exist then the CPU usage is not included in the plots.
You can download V4 of nfsiostat_plotter.py from this link. I hope this version is a little more understandable.
BTW – I know the code is not the best code or very Pythonic but I intended the code to be be sort of a throw away code to illustrate a point. But people are actually using it so I'm going to start a re-write of the code to make better use of objects and code reuse (this is a very large amount of code replication). Stay tuned – maybe I can get this out fairly soon.


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If you die without a valid will while residing in the State of Minnesota, you are said to have died "intestate." In order to determine who will receive your property if you die intestate, the State of Minnesota has established a number of laws (known as "intestacy laws" or "laws of intestate succession.") The primary statutes comprising these intestacy laws, or laws of intestate succession, are set forth below. For a more complete list, see Minnesota Intestacy Laws | Intestate Succession statutes.
(a) The intestate estate of the decedent consists of any part of the decedent's estate not allowed to the decedent's spouse or descendants under sections 524.2-402, 524.2-403, and 524.2-404, and not disposed of by will. The intestate estate passes by intestate succession to the decedent's heirs as prescribed in this chapter, except as modified by the decedent's will.
(b) A decedent by will may expressly exclude or limit the right of an individual or class to succeed to property of the decedent passing by intestate succession. If that individual or a member of that class survives the decedent, the share of the decedent's intestate estate to which that individual
or class would have succeeded passes as if that individual or each member of that class had disclaimed an intestate share.
The intestate share of a decedent's surviving spouse is:
(1) the entire intestate estate if:
(i) no descendant of the decedent survives the decedent; or
(ii) all of the decedent's surviving descendants are also descendants of the surviving spouse and there is no other descendant of the surviving spouse who survives the decedent;
(2) the first $150,000, plus one-half of any balance of the intestate estate, if all of the
decedent's surviving descendants are also descendants of the surviving spouse and the surviving spouse has one or more surviving descendants who are not descendants of the decedent, or if one or more of the decedent's surviving descendants are not descendants of the surviving spouse.
Any part of the intestate estate not passing to the decedent's surviving spouse under section 524.2-102, or the entire intestate estate if there is no surviving spouse, passes in the following order to the individuals designated below who survive the decedent:
(1) to the decedent's descendants by representation;
(2) if there is no surviving descendant, to the decedent's parents equally if both survive,
or to the surviving parent;
(3) if there is no surviving descendant or parent, to the descendants of the decedent's parents or either of them by representation;
(4) if there is no surviving descendant, parent, or descendant of a parent, but the decedent is survived by one or more grandparents or descendants of grandparents, half of the estate passes to the decedent's paternal grandparents equally if both survive, or to the surviving paternal grandparent, or to the descendants of the decedent's paternal grandparents or either of them if both are deceased, the descendants taking by representation; and the other half passes to the decedent's maternal relatives in the same manner; but if there is no surviving grandparent or descendant of a grandparent on either the paternal or the maternal side, the entire estate passes to the decedent's relatives on the other side in the same manner as the half;
(5) if there is no surviving descendant, parent, descendant of a parent, grandparent, or
descendant of a grandparent, to the next of kin in equal degree, except that when there are two or more collateral kindred in equal degree claiming through different ancestors, those who claim through the nearest ancestor shall take to the exclusion of those claiming through an ancestor more remote.
An individual who fails to survive the decedent by 120 hours is deemed to have predeceased
the decedent for purposes of homestead, exempt property, and intestate succession, and the
decedent's heirs are determined accordingly. If it is not established that an individual who would otherwise be an heir survived the decedent by 120 hours, it is deemed that the individual failed to survive for the required period. This section is not to be applied if its application would result in a taking of intestate estate by the state under section 524.2-105.
If there is no taker under the provisions of this article, the intestate estate passes to the state.
There are additional statutes pertaining to the distribution of intestate property in the State of Minnesota. To view those statutes, please click here.
[Reference - Minnesota's Intestacy Laws].


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The setting brought out representatives from a majority of the 69 franchise owners in the United States and franchise owners from the United Kingdom, too. Roger Goertz, Aire Serv president, was very enthusiastic about the current state of affairs at Aire Serv, which marked its 10th anniversary at the conference.
"You can make your dreams a reality using the tools we have available," Goertz told attendees. "You definitely have a leg up on the competition."
Dina Dwyer-Owens also spoke with attendees. Dwyer-Owens is president and CEO of The Dwyer Group Inc. The Dwyer Group, located in Waco, TX, is a franchise holding company with six subsidiaries, including Aire Serv. There are over 900 combined franchises in the U.S. and nearly 400 in other countries.
Dwyer-Owens showed a film clip from a recent television news station, which featured a program sponsored by franchisee Mr. Rooter® to bring single mothers into the plumbing labor force. Dwyer-Owens also told attendees that The Dwyer Group was ranked 65th in a listing of the nation's 100 fastest growing small businesses as published by Fortune Small Business Magazine.
AIRE SERV STATSHere are some Aire Serv facts and figures:
Goertz livened up the indoor atmosphere by throwing a 10th birthday party for Aire Serv franchisees, adding that he hoped to be around "to celebrate our 20th birthday."
"It has been 10 fantastic years," said Goertz. "We've succeeded in building a national franchise from scratch with quality contractors, not quantity."
Publication date: 11/04/2002


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In today's world of solid online marketing, there are many ways to deliver your message, you can publish a press release, deploy blog and Facebook posts, Tweet to your heart's content, fashion infographics and even create short video productions for YouTube. One technique you might not have considered is the use of whiteboard animation.
Whiteboard animation is a short video in which the text is paired with simple animations to illustrate and enhance the audio message. This technique can be a very effective marketing tool if your goal is to attract more customers, informing the audience about a particular topic or increase your brand awareness. Here we will discover more about ways in which you can benefit from using an animated whiteboard for your business.
Unique brand recognition
Whiteboard animation is a unique, memorable way to get your message to your audience and increase your brand awareness. As whiteboard 'scribbling' videos are still a relatively new technique, the companies that make use of them automatically gain recognition within their markets over their competitors that may use more traditional video production.
A better understanding of ideas and complex messages
Whiteboard animation is the perfect tool if you need to deliver a set of complex ideas to your audience, whether they're potential customers, a group of employees or perhaps students, as they take advantage of the way our brains consume and digest information. They can help to improve learning and message retention.


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Curriki Library
Website Address: https://library.curriki.org/oer/Library-of-Congress-31139
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The American Memory project from the Library of Congress. This site provides primary sources, worksheets and lesson plans.
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TEARFUL mourners gathered at Bahamas Faith Ministries on Sunday night, soon after they learned that Dr Myles Munroe died in a plane crash on Grand Bahama with eight others.
As somber parishioners converged at the Bahamas Faith Ministries (BFM) compound in New Providence, an anguished crowd had also gathered at the Grand Lucayan Resort in Grand Bahama, where Dr Munroe was to lead a conference today, hit hard by the news that his plane had crashed on its way to that island.
At an emergency press conference at BFM headquarters on Carmichael Road, BFM Pastor Dave Burrows led tributes from religious leaders to the acclaimed author and spiritual leader.
Pastor Burrows hailed Dr Munroe, 60, as a "visionary", noting that he was the "foundation" of BFM. BFM board members received numerous phone calls from people around the world offering their condolences following reports of Dr Munroe's death, he said. "We are all trying to console ourselves at this point in time because it is a terrible shock and it's very difficult for everybody so we are just calling on the faith that we have," he said. "He is the driving force behind everything that we have done and he has been the inspiration for all of the people in this boardroom and for people worldwide."
See Also: Dr Myles Munroe Preaching on "Don't Be Afraid Of Death"
Hours before his death, Dr Munroe led a Sunday morning church service in Nassau and then later left for Grand Bahama where he would have hosted a leadership conference on that island, Pastor Burrows said.
On Facebook, Rev Margaret Elcock, president/CEO of the Family Focus Broadcasting Network and ISAAC 98.1 fm, who is scheduled to speak at the Global Leadership Forum today on the topic "Globalisation and the Media",expressed her shock at the loss of a man she called a spiritual father."What a shock, I am devastated. DR Myles Munroe Statesman, Motivator, Consumaie Leader, my Mentor, Friend and spiritual father has gone home.I iLoved him and his Wife Ruth dearly. Still haven't processed fully that they are both gone to be with The Lord. God knows best. I am in Bahamas , we all came to attend Summit 2014, now the focus has changed. Last time I saw him was at Apostle Bairds funeral earlier this year.. The Lord is calling home his Generals. Also lost is Dr Richard Pinter, his second in command. What a loss!!!. We will pray and comfort each other."
Morris Cerullo Video Tribute
As news of the tragedy spread, hundreds appeared at the site of the crash, the Grand Bahama Ship Yard, where they lit candles and prayed. Before his death was confirmed, those attending the conference prayed and desperately sought information about his condition. Once they were informed of the tragedy, those attending the conference started screaming and crying.
As news of Dr Munroe's death spread, condolences from prominent people within the Christian community spread across Facebook and other social media websites.


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"Give them pleasure. The same pleasure they have when they wake up from a nightmare." - Alfred Hitchcock
There's a long history of cinema in the UK.
So what goes on behind the camera?
Whether you're using an entry-level compact camera or a high-end reflex, it's never been easier to start filming.
So which camera should you use?
We've got the answers right here!
Why Buy a Camera to Film Video?
New technology allows us to do everything with a single device. Smartphones, for example, can take high-quality photos and video. Similarly, while we used to use camcorders 20-odd years ago, now you can film with smartphones or digital cameras.
Amateur filmmakers need to start by choosing the right digital camera for film and for photos as you need something versatile that can do high-quality photos and video. Versatility is key when it comes to your first camera.
Being able to switch between high-quality photo and video modes is something filmmakers could only dream of in the past.
The second advantage is that both your photos and footage will be of a really high quality. Of course, before we got there, there needed to be several technological revolutions. Today, the images captured by full-frame or APS-C sensors are better than what our grandparents could see through their telescopes.
The beautiful imagery of Full HD from our cameras won't immediately look like cinema quality. They'll be fine for YouTube videos but it can be difficult achieving cinema-like quality.
The depth of field is something you can get with a camera that you couldn't with a camcorder. Depth of field can be used to focus on something while leaving everything in the background really blurry. This process is great for highlighting an important part of a scene and is great for cinematography.
However, it can be difficult to use this technique with travelling shots. Cameras are designed with taking photos in mind. Travelling shots can make all of the above more difficult. Autofocus doesn't work very well with a lot of movement and it can be even trickier for beginners to do this manually.
Finally, it can be difficult getting good audio with the built-in mic. I recommend that you invest in an external mic to get better sound.
When it comes to getting a camera for shooting video, it needs to be practical and record good footage.
What Makes a Good Camera for Video
Choosing a good camera, and we mean a camera for both stills and video, there's no hard and fast rule. Each user needs to work out what they need and the criteria by which to define a good camera. Some might want to get slow-motion footage whereas others may never use this functionality. Furthermore, you might be looking for something that's good value for money.
It might be tempting to get an expensive camera but in some cases, you really need some decent lenses to get the most out of the device. You can invest a professional-quality and expensive camera but without good lenses, you won't get anywhere near its full potential. You should know that larger sensors absorb more light.
Finally, most cameras can now film in 4K, an image quality that's hard to beat. That said, you don't always need to film in 4K. In most cases, full HD will be fine.
The Best Cameras for Filming
Fujifilm, Sony, Panasonic, and Canon make the cameras that are in our top 5. They all have good image stability, shoot in 4K, and offer clean footage. Of course, new and better models are coming out all the time...
Fujifilm X-H1
This Fujifilm camera has been a competitor thanks to how good value-for-money it is. Expect to pay around £800 for just the camera (no lens). That said, it's still one of the cheaper models on the market.
This isn't a reflex camera but rather a hybrid. Unlike DSLR cameras, it doesn't have a full-frame sensor but rather an APS-C sensor. However, it has an ISO range of 200 to 12,800.
ISO dictates the amount of light needed for good exposure. Of course, this can result in noise if set too high.
The photo modes can offer 24.3 megapixels and the video modes can film at 30, 25, or 24 frames per second.
Models with a lens will cost closer to £1,000 upwards.
Check out our tips for shooting video.
Sony Alpha 7
Sony is becoming a bigger player when it comes to cameras and they make some models that do really good video. The brand's hybrid camera has been lauded by critics for having a full-frame sensor and the same image quality as DSLRs but in a smaller camera body.
Since the launch of the Sony Alpha 7, new models such as the Sony Alpha 7R III have been added to the range. This has an even better ISO range than the Fujifilm and goes up to 30,000 ISO. Of course, you have to pay for 4K footage.
To get the latest model from this range, you'll be looking at close to £2,000 without a lens. This can be quite the investment, especially if you're just getting started.
Panasonic Lumix GH5S
This camera is designed with video in mind and is really for those wanting to shoot video first and foremost and take a few photos on the side. You can film at 60, 50, 30, 25, and 24 frames per second.
There are also different modes to shoot in. Finally, the ISO range makes up for its smaller sensor and goes up to 50,000.
The downside... The lack of stabilisation integrated into the body.
You'll pay around £1,600 for the body on its own.
Olympus OM-D E-M1
Olympus cameras are famous for their comfort and the quality of the video they capture. This range of hybrid cameras come with a Micro Four Thirds (MFT) sensor and an ISO range of up to 25,600. The 4K video can be shot at 30, 25, or 24 frames per second.
You can expect to pay around £1,300 for just the body. However, there's a good offering of second-hand models available for much less.
Nikon D850
This is a little costlier than the other models in our list but the Nikon D850 is a great camera for those with a focus on photography first and foremost but it can also shoot good video. This digital SLR camera can cost around £2,000 for just the body.
Budget Cameras for Filming
The best cameras for shooting video don't need to be expensive. You can still get decent cameras on a budget.
Check out some of the accessories you can get for your camera.
Sony DSC-RX100
This cheap camera is great for shooting video wherever you go.
It can shoot at up to 50 frames per second and at 4K. They've managed to make a compact camera that can shoot expert-quality video. You can pick up one for around £300.
There are also the Sony RX100 II, III, or IV which have more options than the original model.
Canon G7X Mark III
A bit more expensive than the Sony, the Canon G7 Mark III with its little body can also film in 4K. At around £700, it's really only for those who are passionate about their photography and their film but don't want to carry around a bigger camera.
If you'd like to learn more about photography and film, there are plenty of private tutors on Superprof who can help you. There are different types of tutorials for different budgets and learning styles so it's up to you which one you go for.
Face-to-face tutorials are the most costly but are also the most cost-effective. With just you and the tutor, the tutorials can be tailored to you, what you want to learn, and your preferred learning style.
Online tutorials are similar but instead of the tutor being there in the room with you, they'll teach you remotely using video conferencing software. While this is fine for academic and theoretical subjects, it can be trickier for hands-on subjects that benefit from having a tutor there in the room with you.
Finally, there are group tutorials which tend to be the cheapest per student per hour. Since the cost of the tutor is shared amongst all the students in attendance, each student will be paying a smaller amount than they would in face-to-face or online tutorials. However, this also means that the lessons aren't as personalised as the other types of tutorials and you won't get as much one-on-one time with your tutor as they have other students to worry about.
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Today, Spencer and Michael are discussing Back to the Future 1, originally released October 21st, 2015.
Spencer: Back to the Future is my family's favorite movie. Every member of my family has, at one point or another, mentioned how they can watch that movie over and over without ever getting tired of it. Parts II and III are also great films — if not as effortlessly perfect as the first — and together they create a rather complete, fulfilling story. Despite my profuse love for the franchise, I've never once clamored for more because, well, what would more Back to the Future even look like? It's a question that even the trilogy's writer Bob Gale asked himself when first approached to work on IDW's Back to the Future mini-series. Ultimately, he chose to use the series to answer fan questions about the characters and explore new aspects of their backstories. Given the book's audience, it's probably the right move. Continue reading


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Dr Maddaloni is a consultant endocrinologist at his home institution, Campus Bio-Medico University of Rome, Italy, were he graduated in Medicine in 2010 and completed his clinical fellowship in Endocrinology and Metabolic Disorders in 2016. In 2014, he moved to Boston for a Post-Doctoral Research Fellowship at the Vascular Cell Biology Section of the Joslin Diabetes Center (Harvard Medical School) focusing on the study of aging adults with autoimmune diabetes and the interplay between vascular complications, bone health and autoimmunity. As a Mentee of the "European Foundation for the Study of Diabetes (EFSD) Future Leaders Mentorship Programme", Dr Maddaloni has joined since 2017 the Diabetes Trial Unit of the University of Oxford, Oxford Centre for Diabetes Endocrinology and Metabolism (OCDEM) where he is actually pursuing his studies on clinical diabetes and cardiovascular outcomes.
Dr Maddaloni has acted as study investigator and coordinator in several national and international clinical trials and has published as leading author in several top-ranked peer-reviewed international medical journals. His scientific achievements have been recognized with several awards, including the "2015 Albert Renold fellowship" of the European Foundation for the Study of Diabetes, the "2017 Young Investigator Award" of the Italian Society of Endocrinology (SIE) and the "2017 Early Investigator Award" of the Endocrine Society, USA.


text: This term paper is made on Building Brand Equity. A product is a cluster of value delighted for which consumer are willing to exchange money. Product itself is at the heart of brand equity. Every product should have a personality. It have been assigned to create a value of a product which will help you to reduce complexity of life, which is unique, which is a category of its own, a novelty which will operate in a noncompetitive market environment. It takes about some decades for a brand to be properly built or developed. A new brand is like a just born infant.


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anytime i go to portland i am on the hunt for a new restaurant or food truck to try, even though for at least one meal we always end up at deschutes brewery, breakfast is one of our favorite meals to discover new places. it was emily to who found this gem and i was so glad when i had called our first pick place and their reservations were out till 11am, much to late for all of these early rising preggos to eat.
we had a little bit of a wait when we got there, but it was so worth it! chelsea and i ordered their crunchy french toast - which is basically classic french toast dipped in corn flakes before it is pan fried. i paired that with a virgin bloody mary, my craving this week and it was a perfect meal!
to continue the theme of awesomeness, the great conversation and photo capturing flowed, it was the perfect end to this wonderful weekend away. i can't wait to share the rest of the meet-up with you, so stay tuned!
Mother's Crunchy French Toast
4 large eggs
3/4 cup heavy cream
3/4 cup half and half
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
2 tablespoons granulated sugar
pinch ground nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
4 cups cornflakes
1 loaf challah, sliced into six one-inch thick pieces
1 stick plus 1 tablespoon unsalted butter, clarified
Confectioner's sugar, optional
Softened butter, for serving
Maple syrup, for serving
1. If your pan isn't big enough to cook all the French toast at the same time, heat the oven to 200 degrees. In a large bowl, whisk together the eggs, cream, half-and-half, cinnamon, sugar, nutmeg and vanilla.
2. Place the cornflakes in another large bowl and crush with your hands until the pieces are small, but not like breadcrumbs and somewhat uniform in size. Place on a rimmed baking sheet nearby to hold the prepared bread.
3. Dip a slice of bread into the cream mixture, immersing both sides (saturate it, but do not let it fall apart).
4. Dip the slice into the cornflakes on both sides, pressing to adhere the flakes; set aside on the baking sheet. Repeat with remaining slices.
5. Place a griddle or wide saute pan over medium heat for several minutes. If using an electric griddle, set the heat to 350 degrees.
6. When griddle is heated, add 1 tablespoon clarified butter for each piece of French toast and tilt to coat the pan.
7. Add the prepared bread in an even layer. Cook until golden on one side, about 4 minutes. Lift each piece with a spatula and put 1/2 tablespoon butter in its spot. Flip the toast onto the butter to cook the other side, about 4 minutes more. Repeat with remaining slices. Serve immediately or keep warm in the oven until all the French toast is cooked.
Serves 4.
i haven't tried it yet, but would love to hear if you do!


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Proper diagnosis of the trigger finger does not need any kind of elaborate testing. Your doctor or even the health care provider will simply make the whole diagnosis based on your medical history and a physical exam. During the physical exam, your doctor will also ask you to open and close your hand, checking for some of the areas of pain, smoothness of motion and evidence of locking.
Doctor will mainly check the palm and feel it for seeing whether there is a lump present or not. And if your doctor can see that there is any kind of lump associated with the trigger finger, that lump will actually move as finger moves because the lump is an area of swelling in part of the tendon that moves the finger.
What are the Therapies needed?
Conservative non-invasive trigger finger treatments include:
Basically, for trigger finger injury one of the important and first things required is rest. If you are suffering through this, then all you need is to avoid some of the activities, which need the repetitive gripping until and unless your symptoms improve. In fact, if you cannot ignore all these activities altogether, then the padded gloves might just provide some protection.
A splint
Your doctor might have you wear the most reliable splint at night so that it can actually keep the affected finger in the extended position for up to six weeks. The splint helps rest the tendon. Splint is one of the amazing therapies to consider.
Stretching Exercises
There is nothing better than any kind of stretching exercise. So, when you are having any injury on the trigger finger apart from the splint, rest and medication, you will have to try to move your finger slowly and that will be a great help for you. You may feel the pain in the beginning but once you start doing the exercise, you will feel the comfort as well. Basically, these stretching exercises will help you in maintaining the mobility in your finger.
Surgical and Other Procedures
Steroid Injection
Apart from the general care, there are some surgical processes available, which are applicable to those who are having the severe injuries. An injection of the steroid medication near or into the tendon sheath might decrease the inflammation and permit the tendon to glide freely again. For people with diabetes, steroid injections tend to be less effective.
Percutaneous Release
This is one of the common surgeries, where your palm will be numbed by the medicine and then doctor will insert a sturdy needle into the tissue around your affected tendon. Doctor will move the needle and then finger helps in breaking apart the constriction.
What is the Downtime?
As per doctor's concern, if the surgery gets done between 3-5 days, then this can be cured in 2 weeks along with proper medications.
Does it Hurt?
If your pain gets reduced by general care, then you will not feel any pain but if you go through a surgery, then you may feel the pain for 2-3 days after the surgery but that would be quite minimal.


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You can't swing an Uru hammer at any Comic-Con without hitting a superhero. (Although, for safety reasons, please don't swing that hammer in crowded areas.) But comics have long been about much more than the costumed crime fighters; whatever your taste, if you're not leaving with something new to read, you're doing something wrong. Here are the graphic novels to check out this year as you make your way from booth to booth:
First up is Ben Hatke's Little Robot, something of a cross between E.T. and A.I., in which a little girl accidentally activates a misplaced robot, whom she befriends and teaches about the world. (All the while, other robots search for the missing automaton.) Hatke, author of the Zita the Spacegirl series, uses simple language and crystal clear layouts here, packing a lot of emotion into his character design. Even emerging readers will be able to follow the story with their parents. ($16.99, First Second)
Another from First Second is Last of the Sandwalkers (16.99 — "like Watership Down, but with beetles," says First Second senior editor Callista Brill), in which one of the insects makes the colossal discovery that insects aren't the only creatures in the world. Cartoonist Jay Hosler is a biology professor at Juniata College, with a specialty in bugs: His first book, Clan Apis, was about the life cycles of bees. Even though the bugs in Last of the Sandwalkers are sentient (and sometimes wear top hats or baseball caps), real entomology underpins the adventure; there are pages of annotations and a list of scientific references at the end. First Second also goes for straight-up science education with Maris Wicks's Human Body Theater ($14.99), a lighthearted and biologically sound trip through the body's various systems.
Jennifer Hayden's The Story of My Tits details three different women's battle with breast cancer…and Hayden's own experience with her breasts and all the cultural and emotional weight that gets carried by a bra. What leavens the story is Hayden's drawing, packed with wiggly detail, and her voice, irreverent and blunt. The first chapter opens: "I was born without any tits. Just the usual one-size-fits-all nipples. I was happy and stupid and free." Immediately welcoming the reader, it's a voice that faces heartbreak head-on and comes out swinging. ($29.99, Top Shelf)
"People don't write enough about aftermaths," says writer Alex De Campi. "If you go through a traumatic event and have PTSD, you don't start dressing like a bat." De Campi is the writer of No Mercy, with artist Carla Speed McNeil, which opens with a bus full of college freshmen driving off a cliff in Central America. With no cell service, no food to speak of, and no help in sight, will these strangers band together or turn on each other? Packed with suspense, dread, and revenge, the first volume is available now; De Campi promises to follow the kids as this inciting crisis shapes their lives. ($9.99, Image)
In The Divine, even younger children are at the center of a civil war, a brutal war fantasia based on a 1990s uprising in Myanmar. "God's Army," a group of hundreds of Karen refugees, was led by two 12-year-old twins, child soldiers who were rumored to have mystical powers. Artists Asaf and Tomer Hanuka (also twins) and writer Boaz Lavie have built a new story around the incident, following a reluctant military contractor in a Southeast Asian war as he discovers he's dealing with forces beyond his understanding. The Hanuka brothers' art — thin-lined, with gut-punch blasts of color — conveys everyday military operations and giant mythic warriors with equal facility. ($19.99, First Second)
Magical warfare is also at the heart of Oyster War ($29.99), a more lighthearted adventure book by Ben Towle. Published by Oni Press as a big European-style album, the book follows a naval crew as they battle pirates that are disrupting the oyster trade…and are able to control sea serpents to help them do it. Cartoonish and fanciful, it contrasts with another Oni offering, Lion of Rora, by Christos Gage, Ruth Fletcher Gage, and Jackie Lewis, a Braveheart-style true story of Joshua Janavel as he fought for religious freedom in 17th-century Italy. ($24.99)
John Hendrix's Drawing Is Magic: Discover Yourself in a Sketchbook is more on the DIY side of things is a book that looks like a graphic novel but isn't, quite. It's page after page of drawing exercises, inviting beginning artists to draw the things that interest them, finding out about themselves in the process. (One sequence urges the reader to draw four self-portraits using different references, to see how they draw most naturally.) Focusing more on inspiration than technique, it's a welcoming volume for anyone who wants play with a pencil. ($17.95, Abrams)
Some images are indelible; Ralph Steadman's ink-spattered illustrations for Hunter S. Thompson's Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas have shaped the way we experience that book since its publication in 1971. Now cartoonist Troy Little reimagines that gonzo tour-de-force in a new graphic novel adaptation ($24.99, Top Shelf). It's hard to believe that this book, buzzing with manic energy, shares the American Southwest (and a publisher) with Tim Ginger, the new graphic novel from British artist Julian Hanshaw, about a retired test pilot who might have seen something extraordinary up in the skies on the day his wife passed away. It's meditative and haunting, finding a quietness that Thompson never discovered. ($19.99)
England's premier comics publisher is 2000 AD, which has a presence on the con floor; it can be hard to get some of their books in the states, so they're worth grabbing when you can. They recently published a U.S. edition of one of Judge Dredd's best-regarded stories, America ($18.99), by John Wagner and Colin MacNeil, about two childhood friends who are pushed apart by an encounter with a one of MegaCity One's judges — one becomes a celebrity, and the other becomes a terrorist — and years later, their lives intersect again. Walking Dead fans might want to take a look at Zombo, an over-the-top zombie satire by Al Ewing and Henry Flint ($17.99). And process junkies will dig the Zenith Apex Edition, which reproduces the first part of the Grant Morrison/Steve Yowell epic at the size of Yowell's original art boards, with art and script notes in the margins. "Most pages from 2000 AD are scattered to the four winds, so this is a rare treat," says 2000 AD spokesman Mike Molcher.
And while dystopian futures are 2000 AD's bread and butter, we're no slouch at them in the states. One of the most compelling recent ones is the world of Kelly Sue DeConnick and Valentine De Landro's Bitch Planet, set on a prison world where "non-compliant" women are shipped and sent into gladiatorial combat. Subverting exploitation tropes with a feminist eye, DeConnick and De Landro deliver relentless body blows. The first volume was released this week. ($9.99, Image)


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1. Can I return this product?
If you opted for laser engraving, your iPhone cover cannot be returned or exchanged. For covers not engraved, our 14-day return policy applies.
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These iPhone cases are made from quality TPU plastic, which are only semi-stiff and slightly bendable (like silicon). These are NOT hard plastic cases.
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For any other questions, please contact us at email@example.com!


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Summer 2015-The Intern's Perspective
Posted: 8/13/2015
Is it just me, or does summer seem to be getting shorter every year? In just a week I will be heading back to SDSU to get started on my second year of classes. Although I'm excited to head up to school, I find myself looking back at all I have had the opportunity to do this summer as the intern with Ag United for South Dakota/ South Dakota Farm Families.
This summer I have experienced many things and met some great people! My summer started out with a trip to Rapid City my first day on the job. Here we held the Rapid City Beef Crawl. I was able to travel back out west a few weeks later with a friend to hand out chocolate milk at the Mickelson Marathon. Many miles (over 3,000!) were put on as I traveled to Watertown, Milbank, Garretson, Salem, Alexandria, Brandon, Harrisburg, and Brookings for various events throughout the summer. One of the more notable events I assisted with was the Sioux Empire Fair here in Sioux Falls. I worked in the Dairy Bar for 10 days, selling milk and ice cream. In those 10 days, I ate 10+ malts, this made for a great couple weeks!
This internship opened many doors for me throughout the summer, one of them being the opportunity to run for the South Dakota Beef Ambassador position. Rebecca encouraged me to give the contest a try, and I thought, 'Why not?' We traveled to Huron for the Beef Ambassador Contest and I ended up being named the 2016 South Dakota Beef Ambassador. In this position I will be doing classroom visits and promoting the Beef industry throughout the state of South Dakota. In January I will make my way to San Diego, California for the national contest. I am so excited for this opportunity to continue to promote the South Dakota Ag industry!
My experience this summer allowed me to expand my knowledge of the South Dakota Ag industry. I grew up on a beef farm, and have never had much experience with dairy cattle. Throughout the summer I went on tours and met many producers who were able to answer my questions and teach me many things.. This is knowledge that I would not have gained otherwise. I also learned even more about beef and crop production, which has been very helpful in many conversations I have had with consumers and producers.
As I finish this last week in the office, I am really happy with how my summer went. I put in many hours and traveled many miles, but the experience I had will be unmatched. Thank you to everyone I had the chance to work with this summer, you helped make my experience great!
-Brianna Buseman, 2015 Summer Intern