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15 hours ago

Oxenhope Online

Ewe and lambs in car park of The Waggon and Horses. ...

Comment on Facebook

Surely they're looking for another pub in the village?

Sheep rustling cowboys

pretty normal lol

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16 hours ago

Claire Lindsey Atkinson- Hall

Sheep and lambs red markings in Waggon Car Park ...

Sheep and lambs red markings in Waggon Car Park

16 hours ago

Oxenhope Online

Worth Valley results are in. Russell Brown elected with 60% of votes.District Council election results are now starting to be announced, follow the results online bradford.moderngov.co.uk/mgElectionResults.aspx?ID=54&RPID=13527670
#bradfordvotes
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Worth Valley results are in. Russell Brown elected with 60% of votes.

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Well done Russell

Well done Russell.

Well done Russell.

Why is that person in a display case? And can I get just a few s.ices or do I have to buy the whole thing

👏👏

👏

Seriously?

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20 hours ago

William Forde

May 8th, 2021.
Good morning, Oxenhope Village. Haworth resident, William Forde, here bringing you your daily song from the heart of Bronte land. Have a nice day.

I dedicate my song today to seven Facebook friends who celebrate their birthday today. We wish a happy birthday to Speedy G. Kavanagh, and Anthony Broxson, and Johnny Griffin, and Brenda Power Harris from Carrick-on-Suir, Tipperary: Noreen Duggan Kenneally from Clonmel, Ireland:: Dag Mar Turtel who lives in Cork, Ireland: Patrick Cummins who lives in Fiddown, Kilkenny, Ireland. We hope that the birthday brigade enjoys their special day. Thank you for being my Facebook friend.

My song today is ‘If You Ever Have Forever in Mind’. This song was co-written and recorded by American country music artist Vince Gill. It was released in May 1998 as the first single from the album ‘The Key’. The song reached Number 5 on the Billboard Hot Country Singles and Tracks Chart' and Number 1 in Canada. It also won Gill the Grammy Award for Best Male Country Vocal Performance’.
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Life can only be lived at its fullest once you are prepared to live each day as though it was your last and to love today as if it was forever.
Love and Peace Bill xxx
youtu.be/nw9aWsKHklY
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2 days ago

William Forde

May 7th, 2021
Good day, Oxenhope Village. Haworth resident, William Forde, here with your daily song. Have a nice day.

I dedicate my song today to six Facebook friends who celebrate their birthday today. We wish a happy birthday to Paul Law, and Pam Croad Cryer who lives in Keighley, West Yorkshire, England: Pakie Normoyle who lives in Clogheen, County Tipperary, Ireland: Keith Murray who lives in Carrick-on-Suir, Tipperary, Ireland: Mark Long who lives in Piltown, Kilkenny, Ireland, and Nichola Doyle who lives in Carrick-om-Suir, Tipperary and also celebrates her birthday today. I hope that the birthday brigade enjoys its special day. Thank you for being my Facebook friend.

My song today is ‘When You’re Looking That’. This song is by Irish boy band, ‘Westlife’ from their second studio album, ‘Coast to Coast’. It was released on 3 September 2001. ‘When You're Looking Like That’ was most successful in Denmark, where it peaked at Number 6.
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In my time, I knew one couple who was engaged ten years before getting married, and I have heard of newlyweds who had decided that the very first thing they would do after their honeymoon period was over was to visit a divorce lawyer as their marriage was cleverly a mistake.

Of all types of relationships that exist between man and woman or the same-sex unions, the ones I believe to be the most difficult to end are those extra-marital ‘affairs’ that are started and are sustained on sheer physicality and sexual compatibility of sufficient satisfaction. These are relationships where the prime satisfaction of the two lovers concerned is that of ‘sex’ without any form of emotional attachment or personal commitment of either lover.

There are many types of ‘affairs’, and all are different from another. Some affairs have an emotional component to them or are combined with practical considerations concerning the two lovers involved, but all affairs contain the pure animalistic enjoyment of sexual companionship. Most affairs, however, are affairs of the ‘head’ and not the ‘heart’. To the men concerned in their extra-marital relationship, their choice of a new partner often makes perfect sense, given their disadvantaged situation. Many men estranged from their wives and partners, and left without a place to live, invariably find that their new partner with whom they are starting a relationship ‘just happens to own their own property.

I have always been more attracted to blacked-haired feminine beauties ever since my teenage years, and in truth, I cannot recall the few occasions in my life when I have dated any woman who did not have long black hair swishing across their shoulders as they walked by. My dear mother was a beautiful woman with long black hair, and I may even have displayed the Oedipus Complex into adult life for all I know.

However, I am willing to wager that there are many men who would easily allow their homelessness circumstances to overlook their preferred choice of hair colour of their female companion, especially if they were ever to find themselves kicked out of the matrimonial home and marriage after cheating on their wife. Whom among these homeless, wife-cheating men would not look more than twice at any woman without a man; especially a woman who fancied the pants off him? It would not matter what length or colour of hair the woman had on her head, providing she possessed her own property to bed down in during this unsettled period he was experiencing between long-term relationships. Even if this wife-cheating man was offered the choice between several women who were waiting in line for his affection to be bestowed on them, and who fancied him to bits, it would be the home-owning female fancier who would win hands down. Her hair could be blonde, ginger, auburn, short, ragged, or even in the process of being lost to alopecia; the fact that she had her own property and was prepared to offer him accommodation, bed, and breakfast, and sex on demand should prove sufficient for him to swallow his pride for the black-haired woman.

During my career as a Probation Officer, where I would also undertake the role of Marriage Guidance Counsellor, I would frequently encounter a person who had an affair. Most unfaithful husbands and wives might engage in a one-night stand during a moment of weakness when their marriage was in difficulties and the physical temptation was at its highest. Such physical indiscretions, however, could be forgiven (even if not forgotten) by the aggrieved party where love still existed and the affair had been one of the head and not the heart. I would invariably find that the marriage partner who had been cheated on was more capable of forgiving their adulterous partner when the illicit relationship had remained solely physical, and the attraction and commitment had never been emotional. However strange it might appear, discovering that one’s marriage partner had tenderly kissed their lover when they were making love, or had told them during the height of their unbridled passion, “I love you” mattered more to the cheated marriage partner than the fact that the adulterous partner had engaged in sexual encounters for two or three years with their lover!

I came across this also whenever I worked with men who went with prostitutes, and also with the occasional prostitute I worked with on different behaviours. I discovered the differences of how the prostitute viewed sex with a punter and sex with her boyfriend. The prostitute made the distinction between the ‘physical’ and the ‘emotional’ by never kissing her punter or telling him that ‘she loved him'. She would be prepared to put anything at all inside or on her mouth, except the punter’s lips. Her punter was permitted to kiss her anywhere on her body, except on the lips. She would mouth any verbal exhortations or engage in all manner of ‘dirty talk’ the punter asked her to in order to increase his excitement during sex, but she would never speak the words, “I love you”. In many ways, the betrayed wife and the prostitute operated the same code that distinguished for them ‘love’ and ‘sex’.

They could understand, tolerate, or even forgive physically going with another man/woman, and they could also envisage circumstances that took them to the edge, but any emotional attachment or emotional commitment to another outside their loving relationship was wholly unacceptable. It was taboo! It was unforgivable! And more than any other form of behaviour, that means kissing on the lips and speaking loving words of emotional endearment was taboo!

This aspect within relationships is also seen where a marriage has irretrievably broken down and run its course. The first thing to disappear in a loving relationship that has passed its sell-by-date is the tender and meaningful kissing between a man and his woman. Even while the continuation of a sexual relationship may be kept going and is tolerated by the couple to keep the peace, all meaningful and loving kissing between the couple whose marriage is at an end has also long since ended. We also see the importance of the loving kiss when life-long couples grow into old age. Long after the physical and sexual part of their relationship has ended, they still maintain the emotional bond of their love by physically kissing each other daily and never letting a day start or end without telling each other endearingly, “I love you”.

I always found that the unfaithful relationship which primarily involved the temptation of the flesh as opposed to an affair of the heart affected the betrayer and the betrayed in a marriage partnership differently. It was those situations where physical passion was the gun of infidelity, that the unfaithful person could not stop shooting his weapon. This was an addictive kind of relationship that he found impossible to walk away from without going back to the other woman for another fix. And yet, however hard he found it was to break off the relationship and end his physical addiction to it, his wife would often stand by him initially as long as she believed he was genuinely wanting to end it with the other woman.

Fighting a physical battle between two women of different ages for the same man is the most uneven of contests. It is like comparing an apple with a pineapple at a time when the husband has changed his fruit preference of a lifetime from the plain to the exotic. The wife who is in battle with her husband’s lover is often on a hiding to nothing. It is like two boxers entering a ring to fight for a vacant title; the older contender and the newcomer. The older woman is defending her title of being the woman in her husband’s life but realises the uphill task she faces. She knows that in the physical stakes, she is greatly disadvantaged. She starts off the fight carrying too much weight and being too old in years and wrinkled in looks, her opponent is always going to look better in the ring. She bears too many scars and stretch lines from a couple of caesarean births, and she knows that even was she able to get back into a bikini, she would never again feel comfortable in one. As for trying to spice up their sex life by putting on some sexy night clothes for her husband to take off, she realises that if she tries to use any Ann summer’s wear to turn her husband back on, as soon as he saw her, he would laugh and run to turn off the bedroom light before patting her good night like an old faithful dog.

All that the wife in this situation has going for her is the emotional investment in her marriage, the knowledge that she loves her husband, and the belief that deep down, he loves her also! Is this enough? It ought to be but sadly it isn’t always.

I once knew a Holmfirth couple who was married with four children. Both husband and wife loved each other and were loving parents, but where the wife had always been faithful, her husband had not stayed true to his marriage vows. It wasn’t that he was a bad man. He was a handsome man who most women would never fail to fancy at first sight. He was eye candy to some women and his overall muscular physique and masculine looks gave him the look of a man much younger than his years. He had always been a physical man and during his courtship and early marriage years, sexual relationships between the couple had always proved very satisfying for both individuals.

As the children came along, and as with most relationships between man and wife, their respective needs as individuals with different family roles in the home diverged more and more. As regarding the frequency and satisfaction levels of ‘making love’, these marriage components could no longer be measured because they had ceased to happen. Occasionally the tired wife and the frustrated husband would experience short sexual relations, but it was no longer an act that could be called ‘making love’. As far as the husband was concerned, it was a physical need that required satisfaction, but for his wife, unfortunately, it felt like three minute’s hard punishment was being exacted.

Although the Holmfirth husband loved his wife to bits, he no longer fancied her in the bedroom, and he had even stopped pressing his intentions on her. However, like an Angus bull filled with sacs of seed, and bursting to service as many cows that would let him mount them, he started going to the pub more on an evening where he would flaunt his availability with the woman there who fancied him. Over the years that followed, he did not have several affairs, he only had one. It was with a married woman ten years younger than he was, and who was physically stunning to boot. For six years, the two married lovers maintained their relationship, which was sustained solely by sheer physicality with pillars of passion and a foundation stone of sensual flesh.

After the first year of his relationship with his lover, his wife discovered their involvement. The couple rowed, and she threatened to leave him. Despite the obvious breakdown in their relationship, she still loved him. Indeed, he had been her first love, besides being the only man she had ever loved. She stayed with him, but put him on a ‘final warning’. Three months later, he was still having his affair, and this time she left him. After packing her suitcases, she and their four children went to stay with a family relative for a week. Before the week was out, he went to persuade her to return home with another promise that he would end his relationship with the other woman. As soon as she set eyes on him, she would instantly recall what it was that made her first fall madly in love with him, and she would return to the matrimonial abode to try again.

For a while, husband and wife would try to resume a more normal marital relationship, but although she tried to physically satisfy him in the bedroom, it became apparent that any flame that flickered between them was ignited by his occasional physical desire and her emotional need to be loved.

For about six years, the man tried to give up his relationship with his younger lover, but each time he was determined to do so, because his lover did not want it to end, she would look her loveliest and be at her most tempting.

Each time he strayed, his wife left him, and the same pattern would follow. After a week, he would look her up at her mother's or sister’s house (wherever she stayed) and persuade her to come back home with the children. By now, the oldest child was beginning to object and he expressed his desire to stay living at his grandmother’s house. The husband again promised to end his affair, but like the physical love addict he was, he could not give up seeing the other woman.

The time came when every worm turns, and the next time his wife left, he never saw her again. She moved to another part of the country, and because she still professed love for her husband she did not re-marry. As for the abandoned husband, he was to learn that when any relationship is based purely upon physical attraction, such a relationship is built on straw. Once the good looks go, the other person often leaves also. The husband became increasingly depressed as he started to appreciate what he had let go of. He let go of his own health and put on a beer belly. He now carried a folded shelf where once the muscles of a six-pack had rippled. His younger lover (still married to the same wealthy man she would never leave) ended their relationship after she met a younger lover who was able to supply her physical demands with the degree of passion she required.

Love and peace Bill xxx

youtu.be/poeOqshlRGg
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2 days ago

Michelle Mapstone

Summer holiday club here in the village. Get in touch to book on. I'm aiming for learning that feels like tons of fun 😊🌈

Facebook.com/wordacademyoxenhope
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Summer holiday club  here in the village. Get in touch to book on. Im aiming for learning that feels like tons of fun 😊🌈

Facebook.com/wordacademyoxenhope

2 days ago

William Forde

WILLIAM FORDE : MEDICAL UPDATE: MAY 6th 2021.
Good night everyone. I have just got home from 'St. James' Hospital' Leeds. I showed the consultant my facial wounds. She is of the view that the wounds are getting worse as opposed to better. She will let me go ahead with my third session of the trial drug next Monday and will arrange for me to be scanned within the coming month to see if there is any evidence that cancer shrinkage has occurred. It can take up to five sessions of the drug before it shows some signs of working. Based on the nature of that scan, the Consultant will make a decision as to whether I should carry on, or discontinue the trial drug.
At the present, there is no other viable path for us to follow, as all avenues appear to have been exhausted, and the last medical hope of extending my life is the trial drug that I am currently taking. The forty sessions of radiotherapy I had within the past fifteen months seemingly did me more harm than good, so further radiotherapy is ruled out. There is no surgery that can be performed that will remove my facial cancer, as cancer has spread too far to be removed.
Everything now seems to hang on some degree of progress being visible on my next scan that will be within the month. With regard to the morphine, as my facial pain has significantly worsened over the past three weeks, the Consultant has moved me on two double dosages every day of 10 ml a dose, but in tablet form as opposed to liquid. This may extend my periods without pain, and If I need extra morphine, I am advised to top up with a smaller dose of the liquid morphine as required.
Overall, the situation is not looking good at the moment. I am sorry that I cannot provide you with better medical news. It is a good job that I do believe in the power of prayer, so I ask that you continue to keep me and Sheila in your thoughts and prayers over the immediate months ahead. I will be so annoyed if I do not get the opportunity to taste this year's crop of Sheila's new spuds. They too appear to be battling the poor weather conditions.
Love and Peace Bill xxx
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3 days ago

Oxenhope Online

For those wondering what the film crew at the station are up to...All aboard!🚂we're delighted to announce cameras are rolling on STUDIOCANAL's The Railway Children Return, a sequel to one of the most beloved British family films of all time. Jenny Agutter resumes her role from the original film. Sheridan Smith, Tom Courtenay & a new generation of railway children to star. Coming to UK cinemas 1 April 2022.
Find out more kwvr.co.uk/
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For those wondering what the film crew at the station are up to...

3 days ago

Andrea Illingworth

As anyone lost a pair of reading glasses found today on Top Withens please message me ...

3 days ago

William Forde

May 6th, 2021
Good morning, Oxenhope Village. Haworth resident, William Forde here with your daily song. Have a nice day.

I dedicate my song today to two Facebook friends, John Speedy Kavanagh and Anne Torpey. John and Anne live in the same Irish village of Carrick-on-Suir, County Tipperary in my homeland of Ireland. Enjoy your special day John and Anne. Thank you for being my Facebook friend.

My song today is ‘Here in The Real World’. This song was co-written and recorded by American country music artist Alan Jackson. It was released in January 1990 as the second single and title track from his debut album ‘Here in the Real World’, and in early 1990 it became his first Top 10 country hit.
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Most people go to the movies to escape from certain aspects of real life. We watch comedy films for no other reason than being cheered up, or we lose ourselves in adventure films to escape the humdrum and monotony of our daily lives. It is not unusual for men under five feet three inches to prefer watching bio-graphical films of small men like Napoleon who did big things and became giants of their age. We may admire the Clint Eastwood characters who live life on the edge and who dare to do what most men would love to do, were it not for fear of upsetting the apple cart. The socialistic instincts in us make us readily identify with heroes like Robin Hood, who spent his lifetime robbing the rich and redistributing their wealth among the poor of the land (while kissing and taking liberties with the sweet Maid Marian into the bargain).

As for films like ‘Braveheart’ and ‘Rob Roy’, such historical movies could teach the SNP Leader, Nichola Sturgeon much about doing the dirty deed to her enemies in public instead of behind closed doors. If only she had the guts to take up the highland broadsword, she could publicly castrate Boris’ bollocks with one stroke, instead of pricking a voodoo doll of him with her poisoned hatpin each time he makes an unwelcome visit to Scotland and invades her social space. Far better to face him on her own home ground, north of Barnard Castle, flying the Scottish flag, and seeing him off there and then instead of trying to poison his reputation bit by bit, in the hope that the ultimate blame for his demise might fall to either Dominic Cummings or Vladimir Putin.

I grew up a child who dressed like my film heroes, spoke like them, and followed their code. I only had to see Marlon Brando once on the big screen before I went out and bought myself a leather jacket. All the phases of my development were mirrored in the changes in my film preferences. The cowboy films of my youngest years were supplanted by the action heroes of the black and white screen; the Flash Gordons, Batman and Robin, Ivanhoe, Robin Hood. They, in turn, gave way to my love of musicals and song, as I entered my teenage years.

My years spent between 15 and 17 witnessed a brief conversion to the French movies of the day. These would mostly be shown in a few small film houses in Leeds which were ‘private’ but did allow entry to patrons over the age of 18 years who were prepared to pay a nominal fee to become members for the day. A crowd of us would fake our ages to gain entry to the French ‘X-rated’ film. Occasionally we would succeed, and at other times, the youngest--looking among us would be turned away and asked to come back after they had started shaving. All French films at the time were naturally produced with French actors who spoke in their own language; and for all commoners who could not speak French, there were English subtitles that translated the spoken word of the French actors into English. It was almost impossible to attempt to read the subtitles and watch the action at the same time.

I was fast approaching that stage in life when it first dawned on me that it was not necessary for two lovers to engage in ‘dirty talk’ to enjoy the sex that followed. It soon dawned on us not to waste our energy trying to read what the lovers on the screen said to each other, and that it was far better to visually focus on what they did. We had essentially paid our entry fee for the visual effects, and so we abandoned our attempt at following the script. When I examined many male/ female relationships in my later life, this masculine visual need made more sense. I had to admit that too often on the first date between a couple, the woman will talk and talk in a genuine effort to communicate and emotionally connect with her date, whereas the man will be half-listening to what she says throughout, and will instead have his eyes transfixed on her physical attributes and good looks, in the hope that she can be persuaded to ally them at the end of the evening to his bad intentions. There is often little attempt made by the man to follow the dialogue. Beware all first daters!

The films I enjoyed the most however were the black and white ones, where the scripts were written by northern writers and the settings occurred in the working-class areas of the north of England. These were the angry young writers of the 1960s and 1970s. These were down-to-earth films about the daily lives of ordinary people doing everyday things that all kinds of imperfect people get up to. Despite being reflective of the lives we lived at the time, they were also sexy to watch. What made these films superb viewing was their originality and credibility of the storyline.

I believe that if I had to pick one decade since the Vikings invaded England in the late 8th century when it was the best time of all to be alive, there would be no contest. It would be the 1960s that won the prize. The music and songs of the 1960s were the best music ever! The dances of the 1960s were the best dances ever! The fashion in the 1960s worn by young men and women of the time was the best fashion ever! The novels which were written during the 1960s, and the films of the 1960s, were the best stories ever told! In short, unless one lived through the 1960s in England, one never lived!

I will never regret doing anything I ever did during the 1960s. I will never forget watching the film, ‘Room at the Top’, ‘Saturday Night and Sunday Morning’, ‘A kind of Loving’, and ‘The Loneliness of the Long-Distance Runner’. These films were not only watched by the young men and young women of my generation; they were daily lived, and their sayings became immortalised within the mouths of all factory workers in the years that followed.

For many years after first seeing ‘Saturday Night and Sunday Morning’ at the Picture House ( that’s the cinema for all you born after 1950), I rarely started or ended work any day without repeating that immortalised phase of actor Albert Finney (who played the factory machinist, Arthur in 'Saturday Night and SundayMorning'), “Don’t let the bastards grind you down!”

The world of 1960 was my real world. It would remain the only world that my mind would return to most often whenever I sought out the fun of life, the best stories, and the best of all times.
Love and peace Bill xxx
youtu.be/1KjDGkGnkO0
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4 days ago

William Forde

May 5th, 2021
Good day, Oxenhope Village. Haworth resident, William Forde, here with your song from the heart of Bronte land. Have a nice day.

I dedicate my song today to three Facebook friends who celebrate their birthday. We wish happy birthday to Alice Kiersley who lives in Waterford, Ireland: Colm Walsh who lives in Portlaw, Waterford, Ireland, and Angela Maria who lives in Glastonbury, Somerset, England. Enjoy your special day, Alice, Colm, and Angela, and thank you for being my Facebook friend.

My song today is ‘Solitary Man’. This song was written and composed by American musician Neil Diamond, who himself initially recorded the song in January 1966. It has since been covered by many artists.

Recorded in 1966 and initially released in April 1966, ‘Solitary Man’ was Diamond's debut single as a recording artist, having already had moderate (but accidental) success as a songwriter for other artists; their versions of the songs he had already written and composed were released before his own versions of them were. By July, the track had become a minor hit, rising to Number 55 on the US Pop Singles chart.
The song is a ‘ballad of a loner looking for love.
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Except for my late teenage years (between the ages 17-21) which were devoted to dancing, dating, fighting, and having fun with a close gang of mates from the estate, much of my life has witnessed me as being a ‘solitary’ person. Having to do things largely on my own was more to do with the nature of my experiences as opposed to one of choice.

My introduction to a more solitary position in life occurred at the early age of 11 years. I was popular with my peers, I was a good singer, and my football skills showed enough talent to ensure that I was picked to play with the big team at my school (14-15-year-old average age). I had always dreamed that someday I would play soccer for Ireland, the country of my birth. My Irish father had played for Kilkenny County before going on to play briefly for the Irish national squad, and if dad had done so, then I could not see why I could not also follow in his footsteps.

I was popular with my peer group, but a serious accident I incurred at the age of 11 years that witnessed me being unable to walk for three years, effectively kept me in a situation of 'isolation' from my peers. I was to find myself engaged in a process of self-learning during most of my teenage years. The purpose of this tuition involved me learning to walk again, and then, learning to walk and not hobble. My greatest fear was to be labelled as ‘a cripple’. My injuries had been the result of a wagon that knocked me down and ran over me. I was left at death's door with multiple life-threatening injuries.

Between the ages of 11-15 years, my inability to walk prevented me from living a normal life. My traffic accident had put me in a place I had never asked to be. I had been robbed of my childhood football dreams, and my prime years witnessed me having to negotiate my adolescence outside my peer group. My childhood had been brought to an abrupt end before I had managed to explore all my fantastical boundaries, and from that moment on, I was obliged to grow up before my time, and apply my mind and learning to topics that my age range would usually find alien.

After my admittance to Batley Hospital at the age of 11 years, for the first three months, the doctors fought to keep me alive as my injuries were severe. Then, because of a spinal injury, I was told that I would never walk again.

Over a seven-year period of self-improvement, as my school friends were thumbing through the dirtiest pages of the Harold Robbins novels in the school toilets or in their bedrooms, I was reading books about physiology, the connection between body and brain, relaxation training methods, transcendental meditation, body balance, Indian dance, imagery, and autosuggestion. I used such reading to acquaint myself with a better understanding of the functioning between the human brain and body, in order to help me walk again. When I did walk again, I then needed to concentrate on methods that might minimise the difference in length between both of my legs. One of my legs had been left 3 inches shorter than my other leg because of multiple breaking and re-setting of the bones during four dozen leg operations over a two-year period.

There is nothing that hurts a child more than having their boyhood dreams stolen from them before they have had the opportunity to grow up or to naturally grow out of them. There is no time when a person struggling for their survival will not reach out and clutch at any passing straw that offers hope. When the medics of western medicine had nothing to offer me and told me I would never walk again, I looked elsewhere for my medical remedy. My desire to walk again led me toward the practices of the east, and in particular, the benefits and power that could be derived from a greater understanding of relaxation methods, transcendental meditation, pain management and control, and a philosophical belief system that would go on to serve me well for the rest of my life. This was a philosophical belief that could merge with my own religious upbringing of Catholicism.

There have been many times in life when I have chosen to be alone. There have been times that I needed to be alone, and there have been occasions when I could not avoid being alone. One way or another, the first half of my teenage years saw me engaged in an intensive period of solitude and self-improvement. I placed myself on a learning curve of unfamiliar and complicated subjects, upon which there were no textbook manuals produced or very little written about. I was helped immeasurably in being able to ‘understand’ adult concepts by usually thinking in a different way to most people. Knowing that I was clever for my age ( having been taught in an older class of 14-and 15-year-olds prior to my accident), Paddy MacNamara arranged to have me Mensa tested.

Being an odd fish in a lonely pond, I quickly learned to value my own company and to make full use of being away from school for almost three years while I had dozens of operations performed #on my legs. Fortunately, my school sports teacher (Paddy MacNamara), maintained regular hospital visits to see me and spent much of his time and money securing me the books and reading I required.

When I came out of Batley Hospital after nine months, it took me two more years before I could hobble around. I could not walk but I now had feelings below my waistline and in my legs that registered as 'intense pain'.. Being unable to get the peace I needed to engage in relaxation methods within my home, I would daily hobble to a nearby bluebell wood to meditate. I had to make the best use of my own space during the daytime hours when the rest of my siblings were at school.

I found it easier to be alone than I first imagined. Coming to terms with healthily processing one’s worried thoughts involves learning the most effective thinking methods. Most people believe that ‘we think as we think’ and there the matter ends, but they could not be farther from the truth. My learning on ‘thinking’ had not yet started. Over the years that followed, I became ever more aware of the power of the human mind, the determination of the human will, the significance of self-talk in which we all engage every minute of our day, and the correlation and connection between all these human aspects of behavioural functioning. I would learn that one’s perception was influenced by one’s belief, and that one’s beliefs were shaped by one’s self-talk, and that one’s self-talk was influenced by one’s first thought, and that one’s first thoughts were controlled by ourselves. Most important of all in this sequence between thought and action was knowing that “one’s first thought never needs to remain one’s last thought’. I learned that 'first thoughts' could be changed at will, just as easily as clicking a light switch from on-to-off-to-on-again.

Even as a teenager who had barely reached my 13th year of life, although I could not walk, and only just stand, I had embarked on a lifelong journey engaged in becoming the captain of my own ship, and the master of my own fate.

I first experienced being moved out of my peer group in Batley Hospital as a twelve-year-old boy whose seriousness of injuries had placed me on the adult male ward, where I would stay for my nine-month period of hospitalisation. The wagon that ran me down had physically mangled my twisted body around its main-drive propellor-shaft, leaving me with multiple life-threatening injuries but thankfully, it had left my mind intact.

My extensive injuries included a damaged spine: a crushed chest with all except two of my twenty-four ribs broken: a punctured and collapsed lung: each leg broken in several places on the knee cap, and both arms broken. For the first six weeks after hospital admission, I remained on the critical list, and my parents were told several times to prepare for my death. Then, for the next two years, I was told that I would never walk again. Finally, I was told that even if I did walk again, it would be nothing more than a hobble, and I would need reinforced boots with steel rods down the sides that would compensate for one leg now being three inches shorter than the other by means of a built-up inner platform. This three-inch leg differential was a consequence of having fifty operations during a two-year period of breaking and re-setting my legs.

Not being able to sleep for a solid six months in the hospital. enabled me to become well acquainted with my own company, besides helping me to face my many fears behind the intense level of body pain I had started to experience. During my first three months in hospital, my spinal injury meant that I had experienced no feelings below my waist and all the pain felt by me related to my above-waist injuries. Even the functioning of my bowels etc needed to be physically manipulated. Then, for reasons (still medically inexplicable), the nerves between my spine and brain reconnected. The most prominent effect of this on me was my experience of feeling below my waistline once more. I felt intense pain in my legs. The pain seemed unbearable but at least I was able to view its presence as a sign that my legs still lived, even though they hurt like hell.

For at least another three months, the intense pain of my damaged legs persisted and essentially kept me awake every night on the ward, while the rest of the patients, slept, snored, farted, and died. For six months I became friends with the quietness of the night and my only companions on the hospital ward were occasionally hearing the death sounds of a patient’s last breath and observing a nearby nurse working in the shadows, ever so quietly, assisting the night porter to remove the body of a patient who had just died to the hospital morgue. No sooner had the patient become certified as deceased and transported to the morgue, the nurse would strip the empty bed and re-make it with clean, crisp sheets for the next patient to occupy.

I would later learn that anyone entering the hospital as a new patient and finding new crisp sheets on their bed instead of merely clean ones, would be spending their first night in the hospital sleeping in a bed where the last occupant had died. The first time I learned about the use of new sheets was when I heard a new patient protesting after having being shown to their ward bed. I heard this man tell the admission nurse, " You’re not putting me in a dead man’s bed!”

The year was 1954, and it was an age when polio, TB, and other diseases struck down many a boy and girl in their youth. In those days, death was not as unspoken a topic as it has become today. During my lonely nights in the hospital, I would lie awake in pain while the rest of the ward slept soundly. Then. when the ward woke up for their 7’0 clock bed baths, medicines, and ablutions, I would fall fast asleep, often missing breakfast if I was not woken up.

For all of my life after the age of 11 years, I have lived with high pain levels. During the past few years, the intensity of my pain has returned with a vengeance as I developed several different body cancers (two being terminal). My earlier life as a child prepared me for the high pain levels I would need to adjust to as a man, and earlier learning about my own mind and body has enabled me to control my pain by non-drug means (until two months ago).

My facial cancer (which is terminal and cannot be cured) has advanced at a rapid pace over the past few months. It has spread from my head to my face, all down my neck, and across my shoulder and across my throat. It has left me most of my days with intensive pain levels that mind and method alone can control. I now need to supplement what I can do myself with regular daily use of cannabis oil and morphine doses.

I am on a drug trial at 'St. James’ Hospital' in Leeds alongside four others. The trial is highly dangerous but if successful, while it will not cure me or remove my facial cancer that is spreading rapidly, it will slow down its growth and buy me a bit more time on this earth with my loved ones. Such is too high a reward for me to deny myself the opportunity.

Throughout my life, the high pain levels I have experienced have led me to have a much higher pain threshold than I would otherwise have ever attained. The early association for me that pain in my legs meant that life had returned to them after my spinal damage had miraculously re-connected itself. Thereafter pain has always meant something different to me than what it represents to most people. My early life experience gradually led me to a lifestyle of being able to successfully engage in pain management and control.

Pain tells me first that something is bodily wrong. Medics need specific locations of the pain before being able to accurately measure its intensity and effect. Pain should not hide whatever is going wrong beneath the skin and bones of an individual. It should not be masked or suppressed, if at all endurable. before the end-of-life stage has been reached.

Of course, people experience different pain levels and therefore require different responses, and some require analgesics, pain killers, and morphine, or even codeine when the pain is too bad to tolerate. Society is blessed today with the expertise that is available to assist in pain control., and our Macmillan Nurses are simply the best if/when you are unable to manage your own pain levels.

Love and peace Bill xxx
youtu.be/fcFiNoZI
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4 days ago

Samantha Reeday

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4 days ago

Emily Carroll

Does anyone know why there’s another possible film crew at the station? I’m wondering what’s being filmed this time... ...

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Filming “The Railway Children Return”

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4 days ago

Gemma Kipping

2 weeks work available in Mytholmroyd with immediate start. Cutting wood and sanding and painting in manufacturing environment.
Must be hard working and punctual.
Message for details.
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5 days ago

William Forde

THE DEATH OF A MOTHER CREATES A WOUND IN THE HEART THAT NEVER HEALS

May 4th, 2021

There are no Facebook friends I know of who celebrate their birthday today. Instead, I want to dedicate today’s song to my Facebook friend, Philip Ellis, of Leeds, in memory of the sad passing of his dear mother, 78-year-old Irene Ellis yesterday in her Nursing Home. While the past year has been difficult for the entire country with the spread and the effects of the Pandemic Virus Covid 19, for some, it has been the worst of all years.

To have one’s aging parents separated by illness in the autumn of their lives is bad enough for any child to experience, whatever their age or circumstances, but to have them endure a final illness, alone and away from their own home, and to be unable to have their family members visit them once over a full year, is a tragedy beyond all reasonable measure. Then, to experience (as Philip did), seeing his father admitted to a nursing home followed by his physically and mentally decline over an extended period without any family visits being allowed in the meantime, is simply unthinkable. Then, to have one’s father die without the loving touch of a family member at his bedside being facilitated in his last moments on earth is the most unforgivable act that any government of the day purporting to be humane could ever agree to sanction en-masse. To have all the above take place in a country that has always prided itself on supporting the civil rights of its citizens is as bad as it gets; or was, until some heartless civil servant/government minister/prime minister decided that a maximum of six mourners, masked and socially-spaced could attend a funeral service, providing they did not physically comfort each other with a cuddle, and they did not attend the graveside burial afterward!

Before the loss of his dear father, Philip’s mother was also taken into a Nursing Home with the onset of Dementia. Again, due to Pandemic lockdown and other restrictions prevailing in all the hospitals and nursing homes in the country, no visits were allowed by family members to see her in her residence. It is hard to imagine being struck by lightning once, but to be emotionally blasted by two lightning bolts in the same year borders on incredulity, especially when one receives the news of one's mother’s death after the event, and not being there in her final moments.
We feel deeply for you, Philip, and for your family, along with all other bereaved people over the past year who have been forbidden by the government of the day to engage in the humane actions of a lifetime such as seeing, touching, cuddling, and holding hands. I write my comments today as a man who lost his mother and father many years ago now. I know, as does anyone who has lost a loving parent, especially a mother, about the wounded heart that never heals and the hole of grief that can never be filled. God bless you, Philip Ellis, and everyone who has experienced a similar loss.
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There is no love as powerful as a mother’s love in our life; it is distinguished by devotion and it leaves its own mark. To have been loved so deeply by another who is now gone, is to lose a large part of our protective coating that she placed around us in her womb and which she kept around us the rest of our life, shielding us from hurt and harm for as long as she lived. Even the falls she allowed us to experience in our worldly exploration as a young child, when we grazed our leg badly and started to cry, even then, it was our mother’s magic touch that provided balm to wounded pride and skin. Her hands that had hardened and callused over the years as she undertook her family chores softened in their touch of mine. When she held my little hand, as we walked behind the pram of my younger sibling, mum would impart a sensation that was infused with the velvet touch of a special hold.

She was there for us before we were aware of what she looked like. She was there for us whenever we wanted her, and even on those occasions when we were embarrassed and just wanted to be alone and wallow in our own pity. She was there to watch us achieve and to cheer us on, and though we often thought there was nothing to cheer about in our overall performance, she found it and wrapped it in celebratory memory to recall in later years. She was my mum and she was always there, but alas no more.
I love you Mum, more than I could ever say. Always my mother, forever my friend, you were the first woman I ever loved and would be my last. There were times in my life when my mind might be on another person, some pressing activity or other things, but such single thought I was to learn is a luxury not granted to mothers. When you are a mother, however, pressurised your life might be, however many unfinished tasks that remain incomplete, there is no such experience as ‘taking time out’, as I would often do in pursuit of this pleasure or that. No! When you are a mother, you are never alone in your thoughts. A mother always has to think twice; once for herself and once for her child, and though her offspring may grow into one of the world’s greatest mathematicians, it is their welfare that will always count more than hers. Giving birth is seen by any mother as being a labour of love, not the reluctant and expected duty of a loving wife. Having children is never a chore; it just puts the whole world into perspective as everything else just disappears.
Whoever said ‘that though your father is the head of the house, your mother is its heart, and it is she who is the maker of the home’’ was so right. It is a mother’s love that unites and binds her family; it is she who is the sustaining force. When compared to everything else we will ever experience in our life, our greatest dependency and most constant reward will be our mother’s love. Our youth will surely fade just as day turns to night, and our body beautiful, shall in time, fall foul of advancing age, corpulent lifestyle, and sustained neglect. Even our stomach will be transformed from rippled muscle to fatty flab, and quietly surrender to the absence of exercise, the change from nutritious diet to fast food, and the passage of time. And yet, throughout these spent years of our adult life, while all else around us invariably changes, it is as though we magically expect our mother to be the same as she has always been to remain the one constant In a world of growing uncertainty. It is as though we consider our mum to live outside the gravitational pull of the poles; somebody who will forever be immune to the laws of physics and nature. It is as though we still perceive our mother to possess those magical properties in her body that enable her to have remained untouched and unchanged since our days of infancy.
is therefore with the greatest of all shocks that we learn of mum’s illness, and as the seriousness of her medical condition comes home to us, it is the uncomfortable presence of this new thought that finally stops us from being a child for the first time in our life. We are obliged to accept that mum possesses no more magic balm to rub away her own hurt, She has used every bit of it up over the years tending selflessly to the needs of her children and the endless affairs of her family.

Now that you are gone, Mum, I know that your influence over my life will never desert me. Though it is true that no child ever really knows if they were planned or came into this world as ‘a happy accident’ of parental love, what I do know is this. I know that I always loved you and you loved me. Whether my birth was meticulously planned, medically coaxed, or happened by surprise, I know that once I came into your world, your life was never the same. I know that just as you leave me now, neither will mine.
I love you, Mum. I always will. You are ‘The Pal of My Cradle Days’.
Love and peace to all dearly departed mums. Bill xxx

youtu.be/QufPcm9pqo0
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5 days ago

Rachael Alex

⭐ Oxenhope Community Centre ⭐ a few spaces left ...come along to the new Saturday morning mixed moo classes ..... there will be lots of music, dancing, dressing up and a whole load of fun... make your Saturday mornings more fun....
Go to the booking page to secure your place or message me with any questions

www.bookwhen.com/moomusicks
...

⭐ Oxenhope Community Centre ⭐ a few spaces left ...come along to the new Saturday morning mixed moo classes ..... there will be lots of music, dancing, dressing up and a whole load of fun... make your Saturday mornings more fun....
Go to the booking page to secure your place or message me with any questions

www.bookwhen.com/moomusicks

5 days ago

Oxenhope Online

Lame sheep today up where public footpath leaves Heights Lane to Bentley Hey, does anyone know owner? Ewe holding leg up and leaning on wall ...

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Bailey Hilary can you let Michael know think they are his x

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5 days ago

Oxenhope Online

Toad update: A big 'Thank you' to the 32 volunteers who helped the toads get to their breeding ground at Leeming reservoir during the 2021 toad migration.

I am delighted to report that during 15 of the warmer nights in March/April 625 toads were rescued from Denholme Road and Back Leeming. Sadly 32 toads got squashed by cars before we could rescue them but this number would have been a lot higher without our Leeming toad patrol volunteers.

We also rescued 316 toads from Blackmoor Road during just 5 nights.

All our 2021 data has now been sent to 'Froglfe' and will contribute to the national statistics. Any toads seen now will be moving away from the water. The village council has replaced the stolen signs so the new ones will up next spring.
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Fantastic work well done team .

Give me a shout next year so I can help.

Brilliant work.

Well done one well done all, vital work.

Well done Jane and crew! 🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸

We should be able to contribute a bit more next year too having now been trained and ready to join in right from the start, knowing what to do.

Beautiful work. Breaks my heart to see them. Squished

That's so fantastic you are heroes xxx

Amazing work -well done Jane and Team Toads off the Roads!

Well done !

I think quite a few of the Black Moor toads have laid their spawn in my pond 😃. So thanks Toad rescue.

Awe brilliant 😍

Well done all, had many toads and frogs in my ponds not really sure where they appear from each year!? I'm in Station View.

Great, well done to all

Well done!

Well done 👍

Great news well done to you and the team we did wonder at times what was going on at Leeming Reservoir Nr Oxenhope as we looked down at the torch procession! Pat on the back from us for the effort and lives saved.

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5 days ago

Monica McCaffrey

Lame sheep today up where public footpath leaves Heights Lane to Bentley Hey, does anyone know owner? Ewe holding leg up and leaning on wall ...

Lame sheep today up where public footpath leaves Heights Lane to Bentley Hey, does anyone know owner? Ewe holding leg up and leaning on wall

5 days ago

Jane Topham

Toad update: A big 'Thank you' to the 32 volunteers who helped the toads get to their breeding ground at Leeming reservoir during the 2021 toad migration.

I am delighted to report that during 15 of the warmer nights in March/April 625 toads were rescued from Denholme Road and Back Leeming. Sadly 32 toads got squashed by cars before we could rescue them but this number would have been a lot higher without our Leeming toad patrol volunteers.

We also rescued 316 toads from Blackmoor Road during just 5 nights.

All our 2021 data has now been sent to 'Froglfe' and will contribute to the national statistics. Any toads seen now will be moving away from the water. The village council has replaced the stolen signs so the new ones will up next spring.
...

Toad update: A big Thank you to the 32 volunteers who helped the toads get to their breeding ground at Leeming reservoir during the 2021 toad migration.

I am delighted to report that during 15 of the  warmer nights in March/April 625 toads were rescued from Denholme Road and Back Leeming. Sadly 32 toads got squashed by cars before we could rescue them but this number would have been a lot higher without our Leeming toad patrol volunteers.

We also rescued 316 toads from Blackmoor Road during just 5 nights.

All our 2021 data has now been sent to Froglfe and will contribute to the national statistics. Any toads seen now will be moving away from the water.  The village council has replaced the stolen signs so the new ones will up next spring.

6 days ago

Monica McCaffrey

Lame sheep up where public footpath leaves Heights Lane to Bentley Hey, anyone know farmer to contact? Ewe holding front leg up and leaning on wall this afternoon. ...

Lame sheep up where public footpath leaves Heights Lane to Bentley Hey, anyone know farmer to contact? Ewe holding front leg up and leaning on wall this afternoon.

6 days ago

Oxenhope Online

Please note that post box on Denholme Rd Leeming is out of use after a vehicle reversed into it.The post it contained has been retrieved and is safe. We are currently awaiting instructions from Royal Mail.They and police have been informed. ...

Please note that post box on Denholme Rd Leeming is out of use after a vehicle reversed into it.The post it contained has been retrieved and is safe. We are currently awaiting instructions from Royal Mail.They and police have been informed.

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Andrew Christie

Did you reverse into it Mickie 😂😂😂

Can some one tell me who has the mail I’m the post lady and need to retrieve it many thanks

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