Cut those bullies down to size

       Think of a bully and you might picture a thick-necked yobo who’d last several rounds with Mohammed Ali in his heyday. But not all bullies use their fists. Truth be told, the typical bully relies on their tongue, using sarcasm, ridicule and insults to make their target feel small.

       They don’t even need to be in the same vicinity to threaten or upset their victims. Mobile phones and social network sites are rife with abusive messages and cruel jokes at other people’s expense – often sent anonymously.

       Age is no object, either. While still at primary school, Rebecca* received a nasty letter, full of lies and innuendo, supposedly sent by a fellow pupil who also received a similar letter, supposedly from Rebecca. Their parents took the letters to school where the form teacher recognised the handwriting as that of another pupil in the same class, who in turn had been pressured into writing it while her ‘friend’, an 8-year-old girl, told her exactly what to say. Cunning, manipulative and designed to cause the maximum distress.

       Gender doesn’t come into it, nor does class; a public school pupil has as much chance of being bullied and harassed as someone attending a local comprehensive. But just because a problem may be unavoidable doesn’t mean it can’t be solved.

       Let’s just examine one or two motives of a potential bully. Some who cause misery may not even mean to hurt their victims, viewing their taunts as simple banter or what passes for humour. This kind of behaviour is common in large families where children may compete to get a rise out of each other or even to gain attention from parents – even negative attention is better than none.

       Some people have been brought up to be plain spoken. The area where I was born can be a particularly challenging place to live for sensitive types, as many people pride themselves, not only on their gritty sense of humour but on being rude and overly free with blunt personal remarks. Whether any malice is intended or not, the best way to handle this situation is to simply laugh or shrug it off. This way, any unpleasantness is deflected, as the perpetrator realises his/her words have no effect. He or she may be testing you out, to ‘see what you’re made of’, and will soon tire of the game if you fail to play along.  On the other hand, trading insults will only make matters worse, like throwing petrol on a fire! Refuse to let the bully enrage you and the fire will just die out. You'll also prove to the bully that you're not influenced by anything they have to say - what he or she really wants is a reaction. Don't give them the satisfaction!  They're the ones who are pathetic, not you!

       Should the bully threaten to get physical, of course, the wisest course is simply to walk away - or run if necessary. And if, but only if, there’s no other way out, then of course you have the right to defend yourself as best you can. Yet, surprisingly, your most powerful weapon in almost any situation is ‘mildness’. Keeping your cool is always the best answer to a bully who will view your self-control as a sign of strength, while a kind word can literally stop them in their tracks. Remember, a bully may be frustrated, insecure and desperately unhappy, and the last thing they expect is for people to be nice to them. 
       Clever bullies are often quite intuitive about their intended victims; always seeking out the people they perceive to be weak, shy and easily intimidated.  That’s why it’s good to have ‘attitude’. People who seem poised, confident and assertive rarely get picked on - they’re more likely to stick up for themselves - so by cultivating a self-assured air you can deflect a lot of adverse attention. Basically, most bullies are cowards; preferring victims whom they feel would never fight back.

       Bear in mind that no one, no one has the right to harass you and make your life a misery. If you receive threats and ridicule on a regular basis, you should talk to your parents and listen to their advice. Other people you can turn to are teachers or counsellors, who are usually trained to deal with problems firmly and discreetly, with no comeback on you. Failing that, there are Helplines you can call, where experts can guide you through your problems.

       Some pupils, particularly girls may face sexual harassment, which is perhaps easier to avoid in advance rather than having to deal with when it arises. For instance, any form of flirting is not advisable, as your ‘admirer’ may get jump to the wrong conclusions. Nor should you hang around with girls who tend to be forward with the opposite sex, as you’ll be viewed in the same light. The way you dress may also be a factor - if you can see down it, up it or through it, then you’re bound to get noticed, for all the wrong reasons! How you dress is often how you get treated!

       Both genders can be targeted and propositioned, in which case a firm, direct and unequivocal ‘No’ should be your determined response. Giggling or simpering, even in embarrassment, can create a false impression. Make it clear from the start that you’re not interested and you’ll save yourself a lot of hassle.

       If, in spite of all objections, someone tries to touch you inappropriately, don’t be afraid to make a scene. Yell at your attacker; tell him not to touch you in that way and chances are he’ll be too embarrassed to continue, especially in front of his mates. Should he persist, walking or running away may be necessary and if that doesn’t work, a smart blow to anyone who grabs you should make your feelings clear!  And, same as with any other bully, you need to tell your parents!

       Remember, you deserve to be treated with respect. Be determined not to give into threats, crumple under ridicule or allow anyone to harass you. Before starting a fresh term at school, write down different scenarios which could apply to you. Then plan how you would deal with a given situation – what you could say, how you should conduct yourself and how to avoid the problem in the first place. Discuss your plans with your parents, ask their opinions and ask them to rehearse with you. That way, you can be prepared. 

How to protect yourself: 

• Cultivate self-respect and show confidence and poise
• Refuse to respond to taunts or ridicule
• Exercise self-control
• Be firm and direct and make your ‘No’ mean ‘No’
• Avoid associating with people who court attentions from the opposite sex
• Don’t wear revealing clothes which send the wrong signals
• Tell someone – especially parents and guardians

* See also "How to Beat a Bully Without Using Your Fists" https://www.jw.org/en/bible-teachings/family/teenagers/whiteboard-animations/beat-a-bully-without-using-your-fists/#?insight[search_id]=8a3fa79a-9b90-414d-b767-08f116828aaf&insight[search_result_index]=0

From Bullied to Brilliant by Karen Clarke

http://frombulliedtobrilliant.com/the-book/

Bring back courtship!

       Some years ago, my darling daughter (DD) came home from college in a strop! “That Joe Taylor!”

       From the tone of her voice, Joe Taylor had obviously done something despicable. “It’s so insulting!” she growled, “All the girls are fuming about it!”

       The ‘it’ in question was a list, drawn up by Joe, which rated each girl in his group according to ‘how fit she was’. This naturally caused quite a stir. Yet, despite my initial feminist sensibilities, I quite admired Joe Taylor. For the next few weeks, he became the focus of attention with every girl trying desperately (but unsuccessfully) to discover her score. Let’s be honest, not many guys can get so many girls so interested in their opinion.  

       Did the list even exist? If not, it wouldn't surprise me. Joe, who later went up to Oxford, was an extremely clever young man with his eye set on a political career – in which such tactics would doubtless prove useful.

       But would they work on any female over 16 with any self-esteem?  

       I'd like to think not!

Being top of the list is not enough.

       Being Number One infers there’s a Number Two and a Number Three and countless other numbers. A man with more than one woman in his sights is not ready for a serious relationship. A man with a list is STILL LOOKING. And a woman with any self-esteem wants to be NOT Number One but THE One, the One and Only.

       Sadly, an ever-widening choice of partners and the willingness of both sexes to hook up with whoever takes their fancy has made intimacy as meaningful in modern times as a trip to the public urinal. Sowing wild oats is a rite of passage, along with social diseases, unwanted pregnancies, broken marriages, loneliness, lovelessness, depression and heartbreak.

       So what’s the solution? Maybe we should all take a giant leap back into the past. True, previous generations saw injustice, poverty and exploitation (just like today), but they got at least one aspect of their life correct.

Courtship.

       Courtship wasn’t just for the upper and middle classes. Every level of society craved respectability, to have a good marriage with a good person.

       In Jane Austen’s day, young couples enjoyed chaste activities under the watchful eyes of their chaperones. Instead of rapidly shrinking hemlines and necklines, the hint of an ankle was as far as it went. Extreme, maybe, but many a strong marriage was formed by exercising self-control.

       Of course, in many ways women are better off these days, but the very fact they are no longer dependent on fathers and husbands makes it even easier to hold oneself worthy – to view oneself as more than a number on a checklist!

A few tips from Jane Austen

Don’t hold yourself cheap.

Never get ‘picked up’, accept a one-night stand or indulge in casual sex.

Make sure you know the person fairly well – make friends with him before dating.

For that first date, arrange to meet in a neutral environment where there are people.

Introduce him to family and friends - and expect him to do the same with you.

Avoid putting yourself in compromising situations – parked cars, empty apartments or lonely parks.

Remember, if he truly cares for and respects you, he’ll be prepared to wait.....

And want you for his One and Only!!!

A Walk in the Peak - Over Haddon, Bakewell

       Arriving ‘oop north’ for a week of Mum’s cooking and general 5-star service, my London-based daughter had already produced her bucket list:

       A trip to a stately home (see my post on Harewood House); the new Jason Bourne movie; and, of course, another mammoth walk from the now very well-thumbed Green Book.*

       My Gorgeous Girl (GG) had already pinpointed the most suitable place for our walk, one we considered during her last visit but rejected in favour of our Wormhill workout.~ Well, I’m only human - one marathon per visit is all I can manage!

       Over Haddon is a tiny, picturesque village in the White Peak, a couple of miles from Haddon Hall, Bakewell where "Elizabeth”, "Pride & Prejudice”, “The Other Boleyn Girl”, “The Princess Bride” and no less than THREE versions of Jane Eyre were filmed in recent years. 

       The village itself has also had its drama. In the 17^th century, for instance, a young lass called Martha Taylor starved herself to death. It took a while, mind: The “fasting Damsel” or “‘Mirabile Pecci” (whatever that means), swallowed nothing but a few drops of water with a little sugar and the occasional raisin for nearly two years, dying as a national celebrity at barely 20 years old.+  

       Centuries later, Over Haddon was again put on the map, being the birthplace of Sir Maurice Oldfield, a former head of MI6, who is now buried in the local churchyard. Another reason to spy out the land!  

       According to the Green Book, the walk is roughly 3 miles, although in our case it proved to be twice as long due to a (ahem!) little error of judgement!

       To start with, however, the omens were good. We managed to find somewhere to park, a public toilet block and - oh joy! - sunshine! So it was with high expectations we set off down a hill from the village car park for the first leg of our journey.

       “’At the bottom of the hill turn left along the riverside path,’” reads GG from the Green Book. She has obviously assumed the role of navigator and no one, least of all her Mum, can wrest the book from her grasp.

       We stride gamely along the narrow path. Looking down on Lathkill River to our right. An unusual river, it has a habit of disappearing underground when the weather is dry, a process that seems to turn the deepest part of the river a brilliant shade of blue, but whether this is due to the clarity of these ‘Blue Waters’, or to the limestone through which it passes is anyone’s guess.

       Strangely, for the school holidays the walk is really quiet. Except for two young families splashing about by the river edge, and a couple of solitary passers-by - gentlemen with back packs and spring-loaded walking sticks – we meet no one. I put it down to the weather forecast; the Beeb had given rain, a prediction backed up by threatening clouds as we left that morning. But now, the sun was out, the birds were singing their hearts out, and the scent of hedgerows and recent hay mowing lifted our spirits.

       Suddenly, the peace was shattered! Further along the river, we heard a dog yelping frantically! Either it was injured or barking to alert someone to its owner’s distress….just like Lassie!

       GG and I ran along the river and saw a collie in the corner of an inlet, jumping and yelping as though his life depended on it.

       “Maybe he’s stuck!” I said and was just about to paddle to the rescue when a lady called: “Don’t worry! He’s not hurt or anything! Hush now, Willow!”

       The lady owner and her companion had been following Willow from a distance when the dog raced ahead to dive in the river.

       “He’s always doing that,” the owner explained.            “Wherever there’s water, he just goes bananas! Here Willow! Fetch!” She threw in a stick for her pet to chase, no doubt hoping he’d stop once the object reached his mouth.

       After a short chat, we parted company: Willow and the ladies vanishing up the fields; Madam and I crossing the river “by a humped-back bridge and continuing uphill on a narrow path through a wood.”

       This was where it all went pear-shaped. Instead of “bearing left at the top of the path along a wide track”, GG decided to turn right. As I would never dare accuse my daughter of ‘erring’ in any way, there can only be one explanation: Whereas most of us have a dominant side, my daughter is totally ambidextrous, which means the concept of ‘right’ and ‘left’ has always been alien to her.

       Blissfully unaware of this false step, we continued across open fields to witness the most spectacular views I can remember – and we’ve see many in the Peak. They were truly breath-taking!

       “I think this is my second most favourite walk,” declared GG.

       “Well, I think it’s my first most favourite walk.” I replied. It was downhill too, which is always a plus when you get to my age!

       We crossed a wide hayfield under a million acres of sky, now peppered with clusters of cloud, and followed a wall past a ploughed field and another where the hay had already been cut.

       As we descended, we could see the turrets of Haddon Hall, looking as magnificent as ever.

       “Strange,” I mused, “I never expected to come out here,” then stopped to take a photograph, much to GG’s displeasure.

       It was only when we reached the A6 that our problem came into view. We’d gone miles out of our way.

       “So which way from here?” said GG.

       “Let’s google for directions,” I suggested and took out my phone, only for GG to snatch it from my hand.

       “You’re too slow!” she said and began to pound the screen with her finger. Ten minutes later, she was still pounding, waiting and pounding, but help was at hand. A young man was running toward us, obviously in training. I leapt in front of him and, to my relief, he removed his earphones as I asked the way to Over Haddon.

       “It’s miles away!” he replied. “Best bet is to walk to Bakewell.”

       “But that’s along the main road!” moaned GG.       Then the awful truth hit us. We just had to go back the way we came.....and it was all uphill!

       ......and it started raining!

       BUT, we were rewarded by this beautiful sight!

*Short Walks in the Peak Park by William and Vera Parker

~http://jacybrean.blogspot.co.uk/2016/05/a-walk-in-peak-wormhill-and-river-wye.html

+http://www.peakdistrictonline.co.uk/over-haddon-c2983.html

Does Bio-Resonance really work?

       A few years ago, a friend of mine - let’s call her Stella* – had severe digestive problems and was diagnosed with Candida, which causes the naturally occurring yeast in the intestinal tract to proliferate. It then leeches into the bloodstream and attacks other organs, emitting more than 70 toxins at the same time. Symptoms include joint pain, headaches, migraines, dizziness, extreme tiredness and an insatiable craving for carbohydrates and anything sweet (For more details see web-link below)

       Despite a drastic change of diet and assorted natural remedies, including colonic irrigation, Stella’s health continued to worsen as her weight dropped, her energy levels plummeted and her self-esteem virtually disappeared. Eventually, a friend put her in touch with David*, a specialist in Bio-Resonance who, after one 2-hour session, identified her problems.

       She did not, as previously thought, have Candida at all. All her symptoms were apparently down to flukes (worms or parasites) which had been feeding off her gut for several years. Using a machine that locates bacteria through electro-magnetic impulses, David sent her home with the order to “eat and drink whatever she liked.” Within a couple of weeks, her eyes were bright and she’d put on a much needed couple of stone. She was cured.

       Faced with that result, it’s no wonder then, that, when beset by inexplicable joint pain, tiredness, persistent headaches and a little nudge from my friend Stella, I decided to visit David and try this ‘miracle’ treatment for myself.

       This is where I need to explain something about the history of bio-resonance. It first came to light some 80 years ago when pioneering practitioner Dr Royal Rife discovered that magnetic and electrical waves could effectively treat many kinds of disease. In 1934, 16 terminal cancer patients were sent by the USC Medical Centre to receive bio-resonance from Rife. All 16 were cured. After USC doctors verified these results, the therapy continued to achieve astonishing success, featuring in many books, papers and articles of the time.  Unfortunately, much of Rife’s original research has since disappeared; whether it’s just been forgotten or maliciously destroyed and suppressed is open to debate. It’s worth noting, however, that Dr Rife and several of his team died under mysterious circumstances while in the process of curing thousands of terminal illnesses. (See website link below). Small wonder David and other practitioners try to stay beneath the radar, as attempts have already been made by certain organisations to ban the rapidly growing use of bio-resonance.  

       Another issue for bona fide practitioners is its adoption by New Age healers, leading prospective clients to believe - mistakenly - that bio-resonance is due to mystic powers rather than proven, easily explained and, according to David, entirely natural science.  

       David is a handsome, well-built man in his late forties who, on the day I met him, had a hint of tiredness around his eyes. He'd just got back from Dusseldorf after attending a conference for private health practitioners from all over the world. Apparently, bio-resonance is widely accepted by Germany’s medical profession, although it's not yet available mainstream.

       David sits on one side of a table on which rests the bio-resonance machine, a device that looks similar to a medium-sized office printer. On the other side is a comfortable chair where the client sits, holding a steel rod in each hand. These rods conduct information from the body’s electrical frequency to the machine.

       For the first visit, a client is given a full diagnosis followed by treatment over a 2-hour session. Once the machine is operative, David holds a wooden handle with a light steel whip-like attachment which begins to swing languidly from side to side. David is surprised by its lack of oomph and wonders why this ‘wand’ is not rotating rapidly as it normally does. He puts its lacklustre performance down to my non-existent energy levels, an indication that my blood pressure is extremely low.

       The procedure takes time, so David explains the latest advances in bio-resonance. Apparently, there’s a new, high-tech machine being introduced that’s a lot more complex than the one he is using for my first visit. Stella, who has come to hold my hand, is thinking of setting up a similar practice herself, but for basic treatment rather than the diagnostic side of things. I think she’d be excellent, as she’s really well up on nutrition and various conditions such as....

       “Candida!” says David. “It’s very wide-spread - gone right through your body.” I gasp. Surely not. What does that mean?” I ask tremulously. Actually, I already have a pretty good idea because of what Stella went through. “No sugar, no flour, no dairy products, no wine and definitely no yeast for 5 weeks,” says David. “That should get it under control. Then we’ll zap it during your next treatment session.” Why not now? “Because there’s so much of it," David replies. "There are roughly 20 different types of candida and you have them all. Zapping the lot in one go would make you feel very, very ill, so do your best to starve it beforehand and it’ll be a lot easier to get rid of.”

       “Five whole weeks!” I exclaim.

       “You’ve got off lightly there,” says Stella. “I was struggling for two years when I thought I had it.”

       “No sugar!” I wail. “For five whole weeks!” What about wine?

       “Oh, no wine,” says David. “Besides, when there’s as much yeast in the system as you have, it ferments and makes you feel drunk anyway.” Somehow, getting merry on a yeast infection doesn’t have quite the same allure as a nice soft Merlot! Stella is as sympathetic as is possible to be with someone as wimpish as me. And hey...there are worse things in life.

       In my case, following the recommended diet did the trick but usually, once a diagnosis has been made, treatment is through electro-magnetic waves set at precise frequencies according to the nature and extent of the disease. Both diagnosis and treatment are entirely painless.

       Bio-resonance has been claimed to cure many illnesses – even cancer, as mentioned above. In fact, according to David, it was the remarkable results of bio-resonance in treating his own cancer which convinced him of this therapy’s amazing powers and made him determined to help others.^

*Not their real names

http://www.rife.org/

http://www.womentowomen.com/digestionandgihealth/candida.aspx

A walk in the Peak - Wormhill and the River Wye

       It’s Friday morning, the sun is shining and my 'Gorgeous Girl' daughter has come up from London for a few days of fresh Derbyshire air….and to see me, of course!

       But GG already has plans. Before the milk cools on her porridge she’s leafing through the little Green Book*. “Now, where shall we go on our walk today?” she asks.

       I sigh inwardly. “Well, I was thinking….”

       “Oh THIS looks good! Wormhill. Not far to drive - and it’s by a river with breathtaking views!”

       Views? Oh-o. Where I live ‘breathtaking views’ mean only one thing - upward slogs up breathtaking hills!

       “….and it’s 5 miles!” she adds, reaching for her sand boots. “Oh good!” I reply, “We’ll be walking all day!” Gingerly, GG shakes each boot to make sure no spiders have taken root inside. “I wish you wouldn’t keep them under the stairs.” she moans, but I’m busy looking for the oxygen mask! 

      Wormhill is a tiny hamlet near Peak Forest on the Sheffield road, a nice drive through gorgeous scenery. We manage to find the perfect parking spot outside an ancient church graveyard. “That’s handy!” I thought. Actually, I rather like graveyards, so we spend a few minutes strolling around and reading old tombstones before setting off on the first leg of our journey.

       “About a 50 yards past the de-restricted sign, we turn right at the footpath sign.” my daughter directs as she strides ahead confidently (and a little too quickly for my liking!) This brings us to a grassy path leading downhill and, true to the little Green Book, the view is wonderful if a little scary. “Let’s not get too close!” I warn, as GG pushes towards the edge. Time for a photo. “Oh no! You’re not going to take photos all day!” she tuts. Seems she has a thing about my hobby. 

       We then follow a stony path wreathed by gorse bushes to the bottom of the gorge and cross a bridge over the river.  

       From now on, it’s uphill all the way but, despite the panting and gasping, the vista that awaits us is truly worth the trek with its dry stone walls, distant rolling hills and lush green fields. The sweet air of Derbyshire is like nectar which even a distant muck-spreader can’t spoil. Fortunately, the wind is blowing the stench in the opposite direction!

       Having reached the apex of our climb, the path levels off and takes us through Blackwell Farm just in time for the owner to pass by on his tractor, giving us a friendly wave. We pause in the farmyard to admire the views. “Are you lost?” asks a lady emerging from a barn. “No, just looking,” I reply, although in fact I was about to take another photo! Situated on top of a hill, Blackwell Farm must have the some of the best views in Derbyshire – magnificent scenery on every side! It also produces one of my favourite delicacies - Stilton cheese! 

      The Green Book now tells us to continue along the farm’s drive, turn left at the bottom and cross the main road at the next junction. A few more yards of tarmac and we take a sharp left along a walled footpath which opens up to more panoramic views of the Peak as we head for Miller’s Dale. 

       “Oooh, the book says there’s a pub there! The Dale House Inn” exclaims Madam. “I could do with a coffee!” Now that sounds promising….

       Sadly, when we arrive at Miller’s Dale village, there’s not an alehouse in sight. A group of builders renovating a large property on the main road have never heard of the Dale House Inn - and if anyone would know they would! Although the Green Book has proved unerringly accurate to date, it was published 35 years ago, so the hostelry has obviously shut down since then.

       Disappointed, and by now very thirsty, we follow the footpath along the River Wye back to where we crossed the bridge originally. An information sign tells us to watch out for water voles by the river’s edge but, look as we might, we don’t see anything except torrents of water and broken branches being swept along with the current. It’s been a long, wet winter and the Wye is wider and deeper than usual. 

       As we walk, my legs begin to buckle and my lungs are tightening with every step. Eventually, having crossed the bridge again, what was a gentle downhill ramble at the beginning of our walk now looms ominously into sight; the gorge is rising and the slope we first descended looks a lot, lot steeper going up!        

       “I’m just going to have to take it easy!” I announce as we start the ascent, yet GG has no problem at all. She bounds ahead of me, her stride as strong and confident as ever. Talk about feeling my age! At least I can take more pics while her back’s turned!!

*Short Walks in the Peak Park by William and Vera Parker

Maps by Paul J Williamson

Published by Derbyshire Countryside Ltd. 1981

Does being 'nice' get you anywhere?

       It all depends where you want to go.

       Columnist Liz Jones* believes niceness gets you nowhere, citing several unpleasant experiences she’s had of late with ungrateful and uncaring people. Sadly, the world’s like that. Not so much ‘do as you would be done by’ as ‘do others down before they do you!’

       Yet I firmly believe that true niceness gets results. My daughter (who despite being extremely nice is certainly no pushover), works for a building society and, as you can imagine, receives her fair share of complaints. Many customers are indignant and some are downright nasty, but is she phased by this abuse? Not on your life! The worse they are and the more they rant and rave about their overdraft/failed payment/interest rate or whatever, the calmer and more intractable my girl becomes until even the most determined plaintiff slams the phone down in defeat, exhausted and a good deal poorer!

       On the other hand, a customer who is apologetic for their error (in banking, the customer is rarely right!), is reasonable and nice gets 5-star treatment. In fact, my daughter will go out of her way to help them, even persuading the powers-that-be to reduce or drop any penalties.

       None of us are perfect, of course, and however hard I try to be a nice person, I’ve had my moments. Impatience, pride, anger, envy, resentment and sheer selfishness can influence us all at times, while the world we live in seems to foster such negative traits. No matter who or where we are, there will always be challenges from others and, when slighted, insulted or faced with aggression, it takes huge self-control not to retaliate, to keep one’s cool. To be nice.

       But does being nice, as Liz may argue, simply get you trampled on? It depends what you mean by nice. According to the Oxford Dictionary, ‘nice’ has 3 meanings: 1) ‘good natured, kind’ 2) ‘subtle, slight’ 3) ‘fastidious, scrupulous’.  For me, however, there can be no better description of all round niceness than Galatians 5:22 which lists the spiritual fruitage of “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faith, mildness, self-control." Far from being weak, such qualities can have a powerful and positive effect. 

       With so much violence, selfishness, haughtiness, pride and greed surrounding us, it may seem easier to follow the crowd, but please! don’t go that way! Don’t let this horrible world grind you into its mould. And don’t let anyone stop you being NICE!

The Book of Proverbs by King Solomon, one of the wisest men who ever lived, highlights some nice benefits:  

“An answer when mild turns away rage”

“A mild tongue itself can break a bone”

 

“He that is slow to anger (patient) is better than a mighty man”

“All his spirit is what a stupid one lets out, but he that is wise keeps it calm to the last.”

“The one who is slow to anger has great discernment, but the impatient one displays his foolishness.”

“The desirable thing in earthling man is his loving-kindness,” 

“The goodness of the righteous makes a city rejoice”

*http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-3543850/LIZ-JONES-Stamp-feet-girls-nice-nowhere.html

A walk in the Peak - Eyam

     

       I’ve been meaning to write this post for a fair while now but, you know how it is……’time and unforeseen occurrence’......

       Anyway, having been dragged away from the computer by a group of friends recently, I joined them for a walk in Eyam, a quaint little village in the heart of Derbyshire’s Hope Valley where I learned some fascinating facts for all you history buffs.    

       Eyam (pronounced E’em) has quite a history, dating back at least as far as the Romans who discovered a rich vein of lead in the area.  The village was recorded in the Domesday Book under its olde English name, Aium – and would have remained an attractive yet obscure hamlet but for a shocking, heartrending disaster 6 centuries later.

'Black Death' illustration courtesy of  TheMiddleAges.net

       
       In 1665 the Bubonic Plague (aka Black Death), already raging in London, arrived in a bundle of cloth infested with fleas.  The first victim, the local tailor’s assistant George Vickers who took delivery, died within a week of contracting the disease that was already spreading like wildfire throughout the village. 
       Attempting to contain the infection, the village rector Reverend William Mompesson and Puritan minister Thomas Stanley, drew up an emergency plan of action, which called for supreme sacrifice from the residents.  Bodies were to be buried by their own families, church services were relocated to a natural amphitheatre in Cucklett Delph, and, most famously, the entire population agreed to be quarantined, cordoning themselves off in order to protect neighbouring communities. 
       For 14 months, the plague decimated the village, causing at least 260 deaths. The exact figure is unknown, although, according to one account, only 83 people survived out of a population of 350. 

       These survivors were later thought to have had exceptional immune systems, which according to one research programme, were passed down to their descendants...some of whom are thought to be resistant to HIV/AIDS!*

       

Rose Cottage, home of the Hawkesworth family

One of many plaques relating to plague victims

       

       Today, Eyam is a thriving tourist centre, populated mainly by well-heeled stalwarts of St Lawrence’s, the parish church. 

St Lawrence's Church, Eyam

       Architecturally and geographically, little has changed since the 17^th century. Most of the buildings in the centre of the village have remained intact, frozen in time for curious visitors. 

       Even the stocks remain, ready to punish the drunk and disorderly!

      Our walk took us past Eyam Hall and the local Museum (sadly shut at the time!).....

.......through the village square with its dainty tea room, to the Miners Arms public house, which has quite a history of its own. (See Plaque) 

Miners Arms, Eyam

       From here, we strolled up a steep lane towards open country where we met a herd of llamas looking beautifully snug with their amazingly soft coats.....enough wool for a few hundred pashminas, no doubt!

The views were spectacular......  

View of Eyam

 ....with bags of stile!

Stile and signpost to Mompesson's Well

  ....although the going got tough occasionally!

*http://www.aboutderbyshire.co.uk/cms/11/sensational-aids-cure-fou.shtml

http://www.peakdistrictinformation.com/towns/eyam.php