FUTURE / CURIOUS NEWS - FUTURO / NOTICIAS CURIOSAS.

Hi my dear friends. In some occasions we read or see curious news about different products or devices. Today, I'm going to show you some of them. I hope you'll like them! and what is more: They are all available at this very moment!

Hola mis queridos amigos. En algunas ocasiones leemos o vemos noticias curiosas sobre diferentes productos o aparatos. Hoy, voy a enseñaros algunos de ellos. ¡Espero que os gusten! y lo que es más: Todos ellos están disponibles en el mercado en este momento. 


Info:  from Speak Up magazine.
Photos: pinterest.es  /  trends.directindustry.es  /  cbc.a  /  movilzona.es  /  potton.co.uk  / themayor.eu  /  dailymailco.uk (2)



CURIOUS NEWS  /  FUTURE SHOCK.

**LIFESAVING AIRCRAFT

With search and rescue operations primarily in mind, the Martin Jetcraft, named one of 2010's top 50 inventions by Time Magazine, is already available!  The fan propelled light aircraft, which can be flown by a pilot or by remote control, can take off and land vertically in relatively confined spaces, and has 30 minutes flight capability at a speed of up to 74 kilometres per hour at an altitude of up to 1,000 metres. The jetpack, created by a New Zealand-based company Martin Aircraft  Company, is set to be priced at around $200,000 (€184,000) 
www.martinjetpack.com






**THE IMPACT OF IPADS

Myopia is epidemic in east Asia.  But scientists believe genes aren't to blame.  As Ian Morgan of the Australian National University says: "As kids spend more time on computers or watching telly, we are going to become just as myopic"!

**BUILD YOUR OWN HOME

Flatpack homes are becoming more and more practical.  The latest versions offer quick assembly, can be moved from one location to another and are economical.  They can also handle hurricane winds of up to 290 km/h,  harvest rainwater and turn solar power into energy.  Incredible!!

**TURN A SOLAR PAGE

Possibly the world's most portable solar charger can charge your phone outdoors on a sunny day in under 3 hours.  The Kickstarter-funded Solar Paper, invented by Las Vegas-based electronics company Yolk, is a paper "thin and ultraweight" solar panel that can be slipped inside a notebook.









VOCABULARY

-SEARCH AND RESCUE:  búsqueda y salvamento.
-PRIMARILY: principalmente
-FAN: abanico.
-TO TAKE OFF:  despegar.
-TO LAND:  aterrizar.
-TO SLIP INSIDE:  insertar.
-TO HANDLE: AGUANTAR.
-TO TURN INTO:  convertir en.

HAVE A NICE DAY!!

IRELAND - KAYAKING THE DIVIDE / IRLANDA - LA SEPARACIÓN EN KAYAK

Hi my dear friends. Today we're going to look at Ireland. I'll show you around Carlingford and the divide between the two Irelands.  I hope you'll like it!


Hola mis queridos amigos. Hoy vamos a mirar a Irlanda. Os mostraré Carlingford y la división entre las dos Irlandas. ¡Espero que os guste!

Info: From Speak Up magazine.
Photos: hogranada.es  /  tripadvisor.es (3)  /  wikipedia.org



IRELAND  -  KAYAKING THE DIVIDE

The small medieval village of Carlingford is in the Republic of Ireland, close to Northern Ireland. The border in fact runs through Lough Carlingford!  During the "Troubles" a British minesweeper patrolled the sea inlet, but today you can paddle across the border without realizing it.  On a sunny day, the lough is full of red, yellow and orange kayaks, and kids jump into the water from large pontoons.  The two communities are now good neighbours.  People might live in the South and work in the North, or vIce-versa.  Southern Irish shoppers certainly like to cross over for some goods deals on groceries!

In Carlingford you can find and see, The Mint,  which is over 400 years old and where they used to make money. King John's Castle, on the waterfront, which was built in 1267  but allegedly for King John of England and the Abbey, the Dominican Abbey, which is maybe 500 metres away, and it is over 800 years old.  And there would have been a big community of monks back in the time when...going back to the Viking times, there would have been monks there.

In Carlingford, if you go round the village, you will enjoy its narrow streets, the old houses, the old walls and a lot of  medieval buildings   because this village has been occupied for thousand years.

ON THE BORDER

Carlingford Lough is a fjord that marks the coastal border between Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland. During the times of the Troubles, which began in 1969 and continued for many decades, it could be a scary place.  A British minesweeper was permanently moored there and it would routinely stop and search any boat that crossed the lough, but today you are more likely to see schoolchildren kayaking. They will have come from the Carlingford Adventure Centre. This is in County Lough, on the Republic side of the border.

ADRENALINE ADVENTURE

For over 20 years, one local company, Carlingford Adventure Centre, has been doing its bit both for providing employment in the area and for good relations between the communities.  Most of their work is with schools.  In Northern Ireland the vast majority (90 per cent) of schoolchildren are still educated in segregation, with children of their own faith. So when two schools, one from the North, one from the South, meet here for the day, it is also a political gesture.  In summer, language students come from Spain and other European countries to learn English, combining their studies with outdoor activities. There is a scary highrope walk, to get the adrenaline flowing, and cool activities like zorbing: rolling down the hill in a giant plastic bubble -an activity imported from New Zealand.

PAST AND PRESENT

With its narrow scenic streets, Carlingford is over a thousand years old.  Today, one flourishing local business is oyster farming. Conditions here are ideal for oysters, which are then exported to France.  A few years ago the peninsula was designated a European Destination of Excellence. This means continuing investment in infraestructure, services and facilities on both sides of the border. This is good for the locals and good for visitors!


THE TROUBLES

This term describes the conflict that broke out in Northern Ireland in 1969.  Northern Ireland was created in 1922 when the rest of Ireland obtained independence from Great Britain.  The Protestants in the northern region of Ulster didn't want to become part of the new "Irish Free State", which was predominantly Catholic.  As a result, six of the nine Ulster counties that had a Protestant majority became "Northern Ireland".

Catholics in Northern Ireland were treated like second-class citizens and in the late 1960s they started to campaign for their civil rights.  The Protestants, who ran the local police force, reacted with violence and the British army was sent in.  This was officially to protect the Catholics, but the army soon began to see the Catholics as the enemy.

IF YOU GO...

**HOW TO GET THERE.  Carlingford Lough is about halfway between Dublin and Belfast. There are buses from Belfast or Dublin. www.translink.co.uk   /   www,buseireann.ie

**WHERE TO STAY.   Right by the Lough, Ghan House also serves fabulous dinners and wines.

**WHAT TO DO.  Friendly Carlingford Adventure Centre in Tholsel Street offers days of adventure, kayaking, a highrope course, Ireland's largest rock-climbing site, zorbing... language courses for students aged 10-18 as well as for families.  The Carlingford Oyster Festial is in early August.
www.carlingfordadventure.com


** MORE INFO:  www.carlingford.ie  /  www.discoverireland.ie


                                           ******************************

VOCABULARY

-LOUGH:  lago
-SIDEBAR: recuadro
-MINESWEEPER:  dragaminas
-SEA INLET:  brazo de mar
-TO PADDLE:  remar
-TO DO ITS BIT:  contribuir
-TO MOOR:  amarrar
-TO SEARCH: registrar
-TO IMPROVE:  mejorar
-MINT: Casa de la Moneda
-MONK:  monje.


                                       **********************************

EXERCISES

1 CHOOSE THE CORRECT OPTION.

a) The fjord of Carlingford Lough   makes/marks  the Irish coastal border.
b) A British minesweeper used to be permanently    moored/mired  there.
c) Relations between the two sides are much  different/improved  now.
d) The history of Carlingford Lough goes back    to/beyond  the Troubles.
e) The Mint building located in Carlingford is  200/400  years old.
f) A big community of monks lived there in  Medieval/Viking  times.


2 DECIDE WHICH WORD DOESN'T BELONG IN THE GROUP.

a) scary, heartening, frightening
b) lough, fjord, river
c) aggression, rage, violence
d) programme, assignment, project
e) border, verge, frontier
f) history, past, record


                                      **********************************

SOLUTIONS
EXERCISE 1-  a) marks  b) moored  c) improved  d) beyond  e) 400  f) Viking
EXERCISE 2-  a) heartening  b) river  c) rage  d) programme  e) verge  f) record


SEE YOU , MY FRIENDS!

KEEP SAFE AND HEALTHY!

LIFE STORIES / A REMOTE LIGHTHOUSE / HISTORIAS DE VIDA / UN FARO REMOTO.

Hi my dear friends, today we are going to look at a life story, Ebonee Gregory grew up in a remote lighthouse in Tasmania; there weren't any shops, any bars and even any school or a library. She is going to tell us her  personal experiences.   I hope you'll like it!

Hola mis queridos amigos, hoy vamos a mirar hacia una historia de vida;  Ebonee Gregory creció en un faro remoto de Tasmania. No había tiendas, bares e incluso ni colegio ni una biblioteca.  Va a contarnos sus experiencias personales.  Espero que os guste.

Info: from Speak Up magazine.
Photos:  alamy.es  /  canstockphoto.es  /  oropesa.es




LIFE STORIES BY EBONEE GREGORY  /  I GREW IN A REMOTE LIGHTHOUSE.

My childhood home was an isolated island off the coast of Tasmania. You could walk from one end to the other in a day, but I wouldn't recommend it because of the deadly snakes you might meet on the way.  There were three houses, one car, a satellite phone, an electricity generator, about seven beaches and a lighthouse -that was it.  There were no shops or restaurants, no schools or hospitals, no public transport. There was no crime, and there was no police force.  There were no strangers, only two families lived on the island, one of which was mine.


DAD'S JOB

My father was assistant lightkeeper, and his job was to help the head lightkeeper run and maintain the lighthouse and island. They would take turns each week, turning the light on every evening and off it in the morning, polishing the glass, taking weather readings, and drawing the curtains closed in the daytime to prevent a fire from the concentration of sunlight on the prisms.  My father had been a fisherman for years, and when he spotted the job ad in a local paper, he and my mother saw this lifestyle as an adventure.


HOME DELIVERY

Our food was delivered by plane every two weeks, along with any post. If there was bad weather, the food deliveries would be postponed, and we'd have to manage with whatever tins we had left at the back of the cupboard.  My father would go fishing for seafood in a little boat and my mother used to milk a goat;  we grew our own vegetables, too.  I wore clothes made by my mother.

SOLITUDE

I dind't have any friends. A picture of my second birthday party shows no other guests my age, just the two families on the island. The kids in the other family were my brother's age, so they would hang out together while I spent a lot of time on my own. I don't remember being bored, though.
I made my own fun. I remember playing on the white, sandy beches, sliding down the dunes. In later years, we moved to an even more isolated island surrounded by cliffs, and my younger sister and I would play at leaning into the wind, to see the angle we could reach without falling over, sometimes 45 degrees.


SCHOOL DAYS

I learned about the history of the islands, and was fascinated by the shipwrecks; the lightkeeper who fell off a cliff while herding his sheep, the gravesite for just two babies.
My mother was home-educated until I was five, but then we all moved to mainland Tasmania so we could go to school. It was my first time being around kids my age, but it was a small school, so I never felt overwhelmed.  When I was a teenager, my family moved to another island, and I asked to be sent to boarding school. When I had to come home for weekends, I'd spend all my time on the phone to friends, wishing I was with them.


GETTING AWAY

Now I'm in my 30s.  I find myself seeking out that sense of isolation. If my husband suggests a holiday, I always research sparsely populated destinations in Scotland or Scandinavia.    When I was growing up, the only outside noise I heard was bird song, and the night was pitch black. When I camped  in the garden with my brother one night, we saw a sky filled with stars.


LONDON LIFE

After studying fine art at university in Tasmania, I had office jobs for a few years before I decided to come to the UK for an adventure. Then I met my husband, so I am still here. London can be so overstimulating. When I first came over and started commuting, it was hard to believe that people in a first-world country earning good money could live like this.


MY SON

Our two-year-old son is growing up in a far more frenetic world than the one I knew. I want to see him learn to make his own entertainement. I hope he finds that sense of peace I had as a child, sliding down the dunes, happy in my own company.
But he will never experience  the world I grew up in. The lighthouse I lived in have been decommissioned:  my father was the last lightkeeper for each of them.


                                           *****************************

VOCABULARY.

-THAT WAS IT:  eso era todo.
-LIGHTKEEPER:  farero.
-TIN: lata.
-TO MILK: ordeñar.
-GOAT: cabra.
-GUEST: invitado.
-TO HANG OUT: pasar el rato.
-TO SLIDE DOWN: deslizarse.
-CLIFF:  acantilado.
-TO LEAN INTO THE WIND: inclinarse hacia delante contra el viento.
-SHIPWRECK:  naufragio.
-TO FALL OFF: caer.
-GRAVESITE:  cementerio.
-OVERWHELMED: abrumado.
-BOARDING SCHOOL:  internado.
-SPARSELY:  escasamente.
-PITCH BLACK: negro como la boca de un lobo.


                                         *********************************

*WOULD YOU LIVE IN A LIGHTHOUSE?
*DO YOU LIKE ISOLATED PLACES?
*CAN YOU NAME SOME LIGHTHOUSES THAT YOU KNOW?


SEE YOU MY FRIENDS!

A CALL IN THE NIGHT / UNA LLAMADA EN LA NOCHE.

Hi my dear friends, today, a short story whose title is: "A Call in the Night" I hope you'll like it!

Hola mis queridos amigos, hoy, un cuento corto que tiene por título "Una llamada en la Noche". ¡Espero que os guste!



Info: Speak Up magazine.
Photos: myloview.es  /  freepick.es (2)

A SHORT STORY - A CALL IN THE NIGHT by Rachel Roberts.

I'm not mad. I can prove it!  It's true that I was exhausted when it happened. I'd always suffered from insomnia and after the accident it got much worse.  Often I only slept about three hours a night and it began to affect my health and my work.  But when it happened I wasn't dreaming, or hallucinating. I was perfectly lucid and very awake.


It was about four in the morning and I was just beginning to relax.  So you can imagine how furious I felt when I heard the phone ring.  It wasn't my phone. It was an irritating electronic bleep that woke me up in seconds. It had to be the neighbour's mobile. I knew the walls of my flat were very thin.


I pulled the covers over my head and waited for someone to answer. The ringing went on for ages. I was about to bang on the wall, when it stopped. I was so relieved I rolled over and would have fallen asleep immediately, but then the phone started ringing again.

I couldn't believe it! Why didn't they anwer? I sat up, wide awake, and realized I needed to go to the bathroom. I reached out for my own phone and postponed the alarm by a couple of hours, with a reminder to call in sick at work, then I got up and walked into the corridor.


It was then that the first shock hit me. The noise of the phone wasn't coming from the next door flat, but from somewhere in my own home.  I could hear it much more clearly from the corridor. It was coming from the living room.

I can't describe how absolutely terrified I felt as I walked towards the living room door. Would I find burglars or something worse?

The door was standing open and I walked in with my heart beating painfully.  A bluish glow illuminated one of the bookshelves and there was the phone, still making its horrible noise. But by that time, I wasn't listening.

The second shock of the evening had left me almost senseless.  As soon as I saw it, I realised that the phone belonged to my sister and her phone couldn't possibly be ringing. The battery hadn't been charged for over two months, not since her fatal accident!!


My curiosity was stronger than my terror and I reached out and took the phone from the place where she'd left it on the day she died. I only held it for a few seconds before I dropped it with a cry. Just long enough to see my own face -my profile photograph- and my name lighting up the screen. The call was coming from my phone.


I had a sudden vivid memory of the day when I had tried to call my sister, to warn her about the weather alert and the dangerous conditions on the roads. She had forgotten her mobile in my flat and when I called, it had rung on the bookshelf where she'd left it. I had picked it up and seen my own face and name there. Just like now.


The phone stopped ringing as it hit the floor and I ran to switch on the light. Then a sudden thought made me laugh with relief. I had changed the alarm on my phone. In my exhausted and confused state I must have touched some command and accidentally called my sister.

My heart began to beat fast again and with shaking fingers I dialled her number. There were a few clicks and then a metallic recorded voice said: "The number you have dialled does not exist."


Of course. I had cancelled her contract myself!!!

I went back into the living room. It was beginning to get lighter outside but I left the light on. I pressed the on/off button hard on my sister's phone, but the screen remained blank. It was completely dead.

Why had it happened? Was it guilt that I had not been able to reach her on that day of torrential rain, when the river had flooded and overturned her car?

I waited a long time before calling her. I don't know why. Part of me thought she would hear the warning on the radio, Part of me was still angry with her because of the argument we had had just before she left.

Perhaps it wasn't guilt. Perhaps my sister was trying to reach me? Maybe she was angry with me because I hadn't warned her in time. That would be like her. She was always so bossy, always telling me what to do.


These were the thoughts that were running through my head as I lay back down in bed, just before the phone began ringing again. Just before the neighbour started banging on the wall. That's how I know I'm not mad, because he could hear it too.


                                                  ***************************

VOCABULARY.

-BLEEP: pitido.
-COVERS: sábanas.
-BANG ON THE WALL: aporrear la pared.
-TO ROLL OVER:  darse la vuelta.
-TO REACH OUT FOR: estirar el brazo para agarrar algo.
-TO CALL IN SICK: llamar para avisar de que uno está enfermo.
-BURGLAR:  ladrón.
-A BLUISH GLOW:  un resplandor azulado.
-FATAL ACCIDENT:  accidente mortal.
-TO OVERTURN:  volcar.
-ARGUMENT:  discusión.
-GUILT:  culpa.
-BOSSY:  mandona.


EXERCISE  1
Write the correct word used in the story in the gaps. The first letter and a description are given to help you.

a) The long journey left her  e____________ (extremely tired)
b) The neighbour's alarm was so persistant that she began to b________ (thump) on the wall.
c) Her son looked  g_________ (blameworthy) and she knew he'd taken the sweets.
d) I'd rather hide under the  c________ (bedclothes) than face Monday morning.
e) Derek isn't here, he  r_______(called)  in sick this morning.
f) When she  s_______(turned) on the light, she found a stranger in her home.


EXERCISE 2
Decide which word doesn't belong in the group.

a) guilt /  responsibility /   blame
b) bossy  /  stubborn  /  officious
c) dazed  /  confused  /  blank
d) dialled  /  called  /  rang
e) fatal  /  bad  /  lethal
f) white  /  blank  /  empty


                                                   *************************

SOLUTIONS
EXERCISE 1 >  a) exhausted  /  b) bang  /  c)guilty  /  d) covers  /  e) rang/  f) switched
EXERCISE 2 >  a) blame  /  b) stubborn  /  c) blank  /  d) dialled  /  e) bad  /  f) white.


SEE YOU MY FRIENDS!

UN RELATO CORTO - LA DAMA DEL MUELLE.

Hola mis queridos amigos, hoy os dejo una relato corto, misterioso y sorprendente del escritor y poeta español Ángel Luis Romo, y que os hará pensar hasta el final  ¡Espero que os guste! 


Autor:  Ángel Luis Romo.
Del libro "Aquí está pasando Algo" 
Punto Rojo Libros.

Fotos: es.wikipedia.org  /  definicionyque.es  /   nauticexpo.es  /  pinterest.es

LA DAMA DEL MUELLE de Ángel Luis Romo.

Soy de mar, de brisas humedecidas con olor a salitre, de tempestad y viento.  Por eso he vuelto al puerto de éste mi pueblo pesquero escondido entre cerros y acantilados.  He vuelto por mí mismo, porque no puedo pasar sin esta sensación de recreo para mis sentidos, y por ella, a quien contemplé tantas veces desde mi orilla, desde un sentir sin mostrarme, sin hasta ahora haberle hecho saber mi deseo por esta invencible y terca timidez.

La vi por última vez justo aquí, a los pies del faro, después de soltar el amarre de mi embarcación para empezar la jornada de faena.  Fue en un día como hoy, de madrugada de mar gruesa, con esa niebla espesa que viene del piélago marino, y la vi, como casi siempre, desde la bocana, ese punto en que la niebla es ya bruma que tratan de romper en vano las primeras luces de la alborada.  No quise saber por qué aparecía tan temprano, ataviada con su largo y blanco vestido, la etérea pamela y aquella leve sombrilla que nunca llegó a abrir, pero lo cierto es que me paralizaba con su sola presencia, y lo dejaba todo por unos momentos para poder contemplarla rendido a su encanto. Luego, partía alejándome de ella sin dejar de mirarla.

Allí quedaba, apoyados los brazos en el barandal de la empalizada, con esas maderas hinchadas, casi tábidas de humedades sin tregua, la mirada en el horizonte.

La espero ansioso entre estos sonidos que me envuelven, que me pertenecen:  el suave rasar del viento, el leve choque de barcazas movidas por el vaivén del agua, el bramido de escolleras al impacto de las olas, sólo interrumpidos por una sirena aislada que escucho desde una cándida espera. Algo, tal vez esa corazonada que se apoya en el deseo, me dice que podría volver a verla.


Mi corazón se acelera cuando la veo aparecer, solemne, el andar lento y la esbeltez de su figura acercándose, como tantas veces, a la balaustrada.  Casi he podido sentir sus pasos hasta aquietarse en un punto del mirador desde el que fija sus ojos en el infinito.  Recorro su silueta  con embeleso, mientras el aire juega con los pliegues de su blanco atuendo.  Con la pereza de la duda me encamino hacia ella.  Esta vez tengo que decirle algo, aunque ni sé qué ni cómo, pero no puedo esperar más,  Sería imperdonable no intentarlo, que siguiera sin saber de esta pasión que anida en mí tanto tiempo, desde que mis ojos la descubrieron hasta esa última vez que pude contemplarla, aquella mañana de mar gruesa, uno de esos días que insinúan un faenar estéril.  Entonces pensé volver sin haber dejado aún la ensenada, cuando ella era ya un punto solo para mi vista.  Sopesé evitar el riesgo de una captura casi utópica para acercarme a decirle lo que sentía, pero el mar te llama siempre, sean cuales sean las circunstancias, es esa novia que te espera sin poner condiciones y que tú tratas de conquistar en cada singladura.  La voz del mar fue más fuerte.  Me adentré en él, entre un fuerte batir de olas, hasta que mis ojos dejaron de verla. Hoy, no hace mucho de eso, de nuevo siento que arde la misma llama.

Amplío el paso y dejo el sendero del faro haciéndome notar cuando subo a la empalizada. Me acerco a ella ya con pie firme, pero me ignora, ni siquiera se ha girado para verme llegar.  Parece ajena a todo, a la nívea y persistente neblina, al aislado graznido de una gaviota.  Estoy a su lado, mudo, trémulo, pero no me siente.  Quiero hablar y una fuerza interior me lo impide estrangulándome.  Estoy angustiado.  Por un momento, abandona su mirar al frente y se gira para darme la espalda.  Se aparta de mí.  Muevo los brazos, la sigo, confiando en que se vuelva y por fin se crucen nuestras miradas.  Parece que la pierdo porque no puedo adelantarla para que me vea, me quedo sin fuerzas.  Entre el soplar del viento y el eco del agua en las rocas, oigo el crujido de las tablas de la escalinata al paso de sus pies cuando baja. Aquel día de marejada debí volver con ella.  La dejé de ver entre olas rabiosas que azotaban mi barco...

Ahora sé que es tarde, porque mis pasos no hacen crujir las ajadas tablas de la pasarela de este viejo muelle.

                                            *************************************


¡CUIDAOS MUCHO AMIGOS!

¡HASTA LA PRÓXIMA!

HAPPY CITIES / CIUDADES FELICES. WHAT REALLY MATTERS - LO QUE DE VERDAD IMPORTA.

Hi my dear friends, do you consider your city, town or village a happy one? What do you think it is necessary to be a happy place? Here you can read an article about this subject, happier cities. I hope you'll like it and you'll tell me if you agree.


Hola mis queridos amigos, ¿consideráis que vuestra ciudad, población o pueblo es feliz? ¿Qué es necesario para que sea un lugar feliz según vuestra opinión? Aquí os dejo un artículo sobre este tema, las ciudades más felices. Espero que os guste y que me digáis si estáis de acuerdo.

Info:  from Speak Up magazine.
Photos: amazon.es  /  smartcities.i.ambiente.es  /  internations.org  /  handluggeonly.co.uk. / jericho road.co.uk / blogvocakeyes.org




WHAT REALLY MATTERS   -  HAPPIER CITIES.

Imagine a world where government policy was based around nurturing the happiness and well-being of citizens.  A world where policy-makers concentrated not on economic growth but on the things that most people consider important:  health, education, integrated communities and the environment.  A world in which a government's only goal was to make people thrive.

BORN IN BRISTOL

This is not the blurb on the back cover of a fantasy novel, but a reality that is already starting to happen.  One of the driving forces behind this positive change is Happy City, a charity based in Bristol.  Founded in 2010, its mission is to "make what matters count"  Happy City works to develop innovative measures of progress and delivers training, projects and campaigns to make sure these measures are used in the places where we work and live.

KEY ISSUES

Their Thriving Places Index is another important tool that measures how well places are delivering the local conditions for people to thrive and if they're doing so equitably and sustainably.  This includes key issues such as education and learning, equality and mental and physical health.

Happy City Founder, Liz Zeidler, explained why economic growth and GDP (pib) can never be true indicators of the overall progress of society.  According to Liz, all too often we equate growing consumption with our capacity to flourish, but they are not the same thing.



AN IRRATIONAL VIEW

Liz also points out that GDP (pib) is a measure of how many goods and services we have collectively consumed. Incredibly, many natural and man-made disasters are "good" for GDP, cleaning up an oil spill employs people and things, emergency services, insurance, replaced items.

RETHINKING PROGRESS

These concepts are at the heart of Happy City's activities. Rejecting GDP as a marker of progress or prosperity, their new markers and measures have the wellbeing of people, place and planet as the end goal.  Growing social division and unrest together with the very real possibility of a climate or health crisis are obviously symptoms of a system that focuses on growing cosumption at all costs.

Few politicians are able to ignore these negative signs and trends and what local leaders, from all sectors need is a practical way of making a change.  And that's just what Happy City is offering.



A REAL DEBATE

They publish the Thriving Places Index for all the Local Authority areas in England and Wales every year, with the aim of starting a real debate in communities, businesses and public sector bodies about what sort of society we wanto to live in.  The measures are starting to be included in the policy and practice of some pioneering Local Authorities , Happy City is currently working closely with eight around UK)  They have also recently been used by the UK Government's Office for National Statistics -a clear sign of a change in maisntream thinking.

HAPPINESS PULSE

The "Happiness Pulse" is a tool to measure personal wellbeing in any community, from a few households to entire local authority areas.  Its aim is to give a clear picture of wellbeing, strengths and needs of a community in order to discover how the situation can be improved.  You can take your own happiness pulse and watch the explanatory video by visiting its website  www.happinesspulse.org


                                            *****************************


VOCABULARY

-TO NURTURE: nutrir.
-WELL-BEING:  bienestar
-POLICY-MAKERS: legisladores.
-TO THRIVE:  prosperar-
-BLURB:  frase publicitaria.
-DRIVING FORCES.  fuerzas impulsoras.
-CHARITY: organización benéfica.
-GDP:  pib
-OVERALL:  global.
-OIL SPILL:  vertido de petróleo.
-UNREST:  malestar.
-AIM: objetivo.


                                                             ***************************

SEE YOU!

STAY SAFE AND HEALTHY!

A LOVE AND MUSIC STORY / UNA HISTORIA DE AMOR Y MÚSICA.

Hi my dear friends, here you can read a new story , " a real love story" in which "music" has had a principal role.  I hope you'll like it!

Hola mis queridos amigos, aquí os dejo para leer una nueva historia, "una historia real de amor" en la que "la música" ha tenido un papel principal. ¡Espero que os guste!


Info:  from Speak up magazine.
Photos:  amazon.es (2)  /  thomam.es  /  bhtstring.net  /  walesfarmer.co.uk

EXPERIENCIES  -  "WE FELL IN LOVE WITHOUT SPEAKING"

I'll never forget the first moment I saw Branko. It was 2009 and I was 25, working as a musical director for a circus in the UK.  I'd travelled alone from Gloucestershire to the village of Gornja Grabovica in Serbia, on a mission to learn Roma-style accordion.  A week or so into my two-month trip, a friend called Dusan took me to meet his cousin Branko, who he said was one of the country's best violinists.

When we arrived, Branko came out of the house he shared with his aunt and grandmother, wearing a white vest and jeans. I don't remember thinking he was attractive. We all sat around a table in the garden.  I didn't speak a word of Serbian and Branko knew no English, so Dusan struggled to translate.  Branko was shy;  it wans't every day an English woman turned up at his house. The following day I went back, and we played music together late into the night.  We did this several more times, quickly developing a strong connection.  It was totally platonic, however;  nothing else entered my head, partly because he had a girlfriend.

After two months, I returned to Britain.  I was still determined to learn Roma accordion, but for the next couple of years I was busy touring with my work.  Then, in July 2011, I had a few weeks off, and felt I was being called back to Serbia.

As soon as Branko heard I was back in Gornja Grabovica, he came straight to see me.  With Dusan translating again, he told me he'd thought about me every day since I had left.  He had broken up with his girlfriend months earlier.  It felt unreal, like magic.  It was exciting, but unusual to feel something for each other without being able to communicate fully.


That night we went to a dance. I just enjoyed being near Branko. His body language was so open, and he was so kind and loving.  The next day we played music together for hours, creating new compositions.  He still couldn't say a word in English, and I'd only picked up basic things in Serbian, but it just felt right.

I stayed at his house that night, and we fell asleep in each other's arms. I'd never felt so happy. It was a relief for me to be able to just feel and be, rather than constantly talking.

After three weeks I had to leave for work in Britain. It was incredibly painful, and Branko worried I'd never come back.  But I was desperate to go straight back out there. My mum was very supportive, advising me to do what felt right.  I bought audio tapes to learn Serbian and booked a one-way flight.  This time I stayed for three months.


The type of Serbian Roma culture Branko lived in was very different from the English culture I knew. There isn't the same language to describe the process of starting a relationship;  if you start spending time with someone, then you're with them, and you immediately say, "I love you."


Branko and I planned to go to Britain together for a while to earn money and introduced him to my life;  but his tourist visa was refused twice.  It was difficult to go back alone. When I returned, we decided to get married, and in March 2012, we had a simple but chaotic wedding in Serbia. We built a house on the exact spot we first met in Branko's grandmother garden.

We formed a band, Faith & Branko, and have spent the last three years touring Europe, Australia and New Zealand, playing festivals and releasing an album.  Today my Serbian is pretty good, and while Branko still doesn't speak fluent English, he understands a lot.  They say music is the language of the soul.  We took a leap to find out if that is true, and music has held us together ever since.


                                                  *****************************



SOME VOCABULARY WORDS.

-VEST:  chaleco.
-TO STRUGGLE:  esforzarse.
-SHY: tímido.
-TO TURN UP:  presentarse.
-TO BREAK UP:  romper (una relación)
-TO ACKNOWLEDGE:  reconocer.
-TO PICK UP:  captar.
-RELIEF:  alivio.
-PAINFUL:  doloroso.
-SOUL:  alma.
-TO TAKE A LEAP:  arriesgarse.
-TO HOLD TOGETHER:  mantenerse unidos.
-EVER SINCE:  desde entonces.

                                                 ******************************


WRITE IN ENGLISH.

Acordeón romaní - ROMA-STYLE ACCORDION.

En Inglés, el gentilicio Roma se refiere a la etnia "romaní".  Originarios del norte de la India, los romaníes son un pueblo tradicionalmente nómada que se ha extendido por todo el mundo a lo largo de los siglos.  La música romaní tiene un papel muy importante en la cultura de Europa Central y del Este y el acordeón es uno de los instrumentos más utilizados junto con el violín y la guitarra.  En Inglés, el término "gypsy" - gitano- se considera hoy en día peyorativo.

SOLUTION TO THE INVERSE TRANSLATION - ROMA-STYLE ACCORDION

In  English, the denomym "Roma" refers to the "roma" ethnic group. Native to the North of India, the Roma people are nomadic and they have spread all around the world for centuries.  The Roma music has got a very important role in Central and Eastern culture and the accordion is one the most used instruments with the violin and the guitar.  In English, the word "gypsy" is considered pejorative nowadays.

A SHORT STORY / JUDGE FOR YOURSELF - UN CUENTO CORTO / JÚZGATE A TI MISMO

Hi my dear friends, today we will share another short story whose title is : "Judge for yourself".  I hope you'll like it!

Hola mis queridos amigos, hoy compartiremos otro cuento corto cuyo título es: "Júzgate a ti mismo". Espero que os guste.


From: Speak up magazine.
Photos: alamy.es  /  eoi.es

JUDGE FOR YOURSELF by Talitha Linehan

Francis T. Barrow was dying, and he wasn't sure how he felt about it. He was normally so sure of everything. He had to be in his role as Supreme Court judge. But he'd never given much thought or consideration to death.  Once you died you were gone and that was the end of it.

He didn't want to die of course, but he accepted that it was inevitable.  It was what happened after death that perplexed him. Was there life after death, and if there was, what was the nature of it?

People who believed in an afterlife generally believed in God., but Francis had never really thought about God either, notwithstanding the fact he'd asked innumerable people to swear to tell the truth so help you God.

If the believers in Christianity were right, then he would go to the gates of Heaven, where Saint Peter would judge him -judge the judge- and send him to Heaven or Hell.  Of course, Francis knew this theory was unfounded in science;  it certainly wouldn't stand up in his courtroom!

A few hours later, Francis went from dying to dead.  Tunnel. Bright Light. And there he was, at the gates of Heaven, with St. Peter before him.

-"It's exactly as I imagined," said Francis.
-"It always is", said St. Peter.

-"So now you judge me? Decide if I go to Heaven or Hell?"
-"No, I don't judge you. You judge you"

-"Ha!  So, those New Age spiritualists were right. We decide our own fate."

-"Quite so," said St. Peter. "All souls are born with the capacity to distinguish right from wrong, a conscience, if you will. You just have to tell us if you lived in accordance with your conscience or not".

That's easy, thought Francis, listing off the Ten Commandments in his head. He didn't have any "other gods" because he didn't have any god. He didn't idolize anyone, except himself perhaps, but that was undestandable. He didn't abuse God's name, because he thought it made people  sound stupid. He honored his parents, he would never have dishonored them and risked losing his inheritance.  He never murdered anyone, though he fantasized about murdering his wife many times. He never committed adultery;  he wouldn't have risked losing his reputation.  This was the same reason he didn't steal or lie.  And he never had any reason to feel envious of anyone;  he was everything he wanted to be.

-"I kept all Ten Commandments," he told St. Peter, with confidence.

"The what? Oh, those. No, only one rule defines your conscience. You might know it as the Golden Rule".  He gave a scroll and a pen to Francis.  "Now, please read and sign our Next Life Contract."

The contract said:

I swear to tell the truth, so help me God.
Did you live in accordance with the rule "TREAT OTHERS AS YOU WANT TO BE TREATED"?
If you circle YES, you will live your next life in a world under your rule; as you have lived, shall it be ruled. 
If you cirle NO, you will remain in the spirit world until you are ready to return to Earth in a life of your choosing.

Signed__________________.

This is not what Francis expected. He had heard of the Golden Rule, but much like God and death, never really thought about it.  His job as a Supreme Court judge wasn't to treat people as they wanted to be treated but as they needed to be treated. Certainly, a lof of the people he condemned were born into poverty or dysfunctional families, but that wasn't an excuse to commit crime. The courtroom was no place for compassion.


At least that's what he told himself as he circled YES, signed his name and returned the scroll to St. Peter. Immediately, another tunnel appeared before him.

-"Right" said St. Peter. "Well, you were a rich man in the last life, so let's make you a poor man in this one."

-"Wait, no, how will I become the ruler of my world if I'm poor? And a woman?" he said with contempt.

-"Oh dear...No, no, you won't be the ruler. You will live in a world ruled by your rule, where everyone treats each other as you treated others in your last life."


Francis T. Barrow screamed but there was nothing he could do. He was already flying through the tunnel and into the light (or darkness) of his new world.


                                                  *****************************


VOCABULARY

-NOTWITHSTANDING THE FACT:  pese a que.
-QUITE SO: casi.
-LISTING OFF:  repasando.
-INHERITANCE:  herencia.
-A SCROLL:  un pergamino.
-THE RULER OF MY WORLD: el dueño de mi mundo.
-WITH CONTEMPT: con condescendencia.


SEE YOU!!

A SHORT STORY - A GIRL NAMED HOLLY / Un cuento corto - Una niña llamada Holly.

Hi my dear friends, today, I want to share with you a short story. We are spending very hard times and reading may be a way of thinking less!  I hope you'll like it!


Hola mis queridos amigos. Hoy quiero compartir con vosotros un cuento corto. Estamos pasando tiempos muy duros y leer puede ser una manera de pensar menos. ¡Espero que os guste!

A GIRL NAMED HOLLY by Rachel Roberts.

Info: from Speak Up magazine.
Photos: canstockphoto.es   /  cepymenews.es  / big.ben.phone.box.



She walked onto the stage to receive her First Degree in Medicine. The other graduates looked nervous, but not my Holly. She smiled confidently as she shook hands with the Vice-Chancellor of the University.  She didn't see me sitting with all the other family members and friends and afterwards she walked straight to her mum and dad and they hugged her.  I felt a little sad. I wished she had come to me to be hugged. I always did, but it didn't matter. I would giver her my congratulations later.

Holly has done well. A First in Medicine from Imperial College London, and now she's off to Oxford to specialize. She's a miracle really, considering her unlucky start in life. Actually, that's not true;  because Holly was lucky, very, very lucky. If I hadn't been a curious type, and a cat-lover, she wouldn't be here. The thought makes me shiver.

It was Christmas Eve twenty-four years ago. I was a student myself in those days and sharing a tiny flat with two other girls.  I was working on my thesis and had decided not to go home for Christmas. By evening my flatmates had left and I could hear people laughing in the street on their way to the pub for a Christmas drink.  I felt lonely, so I decided to walk to the 7-Eleven shop to get a bottle of wine.  It was freezing. An icy rain blew under my umbrella. I'd brought my scarf, but forgotten my gloves and my hands were soon frozen to the umbrella handle.

I bought a bottle of cheap red wine and was hurrying home, when, above the noise of the Christmas traffic, I heard the sound, a cat mewing and in distress.

At first I took no notice. I just wanted to get home. But then I heard it again. It was such a sad sound, I knew the cat must be in trouble. I love cats, so I stopped and listened. If it was trapped somewhere I could take it home. It would be company over Christmas.

There it was again. A weak, trembling cry. Wherever the cat was, it was in real trouble. The sound came from a deserted side street in the middle of which was an old red phone box under a lamp post. Most of the glass panes in the phone box had been broken. I wondered if the cat was trapped inside.

I peered inside and saw a tiny bundle on the ground, a dirty blanket, illuminated by the golden street light. It moved slightly and to my complete shock I caught sight of a tiny blue fist.

It took me several seconds to realise what I was looking at, and when I did I was terrified. It seems strange now, but my legs went weak and I backed away gasping, "No, no, no!" I couldn't face the enormity of what I was looking at: this was not a cat, but a tiny, newborn baby abandoned in a phone box on a freezing night!

I stood paralysed and then it moved again, very slowly. It cried, and this time the cry was little more than a whisper. That was it. The life rushed back into my arms and legs. I dumped the wine bottle on the ground, pulled open the door of the phone box and picked up the little bundle.

The baby's face was grey with cold, its eyes shut tight. The blanket was wet and freezing cold, so I wrapped my scarf around the fragile little body. Then with shaking hands, I picked up the phone and dialled 999.

I spent hours in the hospital. I learned that she was a baby girl. The nurses called her Holly, because she was found on Christmas night. The police questioned me and I had to do a DNA test, because, of course, they thought she was mine. Personally, I have thought of her as mine from the moment I held her.

I wanted to adopt her, but that was impossible, I was a penniless student.  But I went to visit Holly every day. She soon turned into a beautiful baby. It didn't take long for her to be adopted into a good family, kind people, who, when they heard the story of Holly's beginnings, allowed me to keep in touch with her.

So Holly really is very lucky. She tells me, once she is a doctor, she wants to do some good in the world. I'm sure she will and I can't help feeling proud!

               

                                                 ***************************

VOCABULARY
-FIRST DEGREE:  cum laude.
-GRADUATES: graduados, licenciados.
-TO SHAKE HANDS: estrechar la mano.
-VICE CHANCELLOR:  Vicerrector.
-IT DIDN'T MATTER: no importaba.
-TO SHIVER: temblar.
-TO MEW: maullar.
-IN DISTRESS: con angustia.
-LAMP POST: farola.
-PANES: cristales.
-TO PEER:  mirar.
-BUNDLE:  bulto.
-BLANKET: manta.
-FIST: puño.
-TO GASP: respirar con dificultad.
-SHUT TIGHT: cerrados con fuerza.
-TO DIAL: marcar.
-PENNILESS: sin blanca.
-I CAN'T HELP: no puedo evitar.

                                                ***************************

TAKE CARE MY FRIENDS! 
KEEP SAFE AND HEALTHY!

SEE YOU!

THE NEW YORK PLAZA HOTEL / EL HOTEL PLAZA DE NUEVA YORK.

Hi my dear friends, today I'm going to share with you some information about one of the most famous hotels in New York, The Plaza Hotel. New York is one of my favourite cities in the world so  I hope you'll like it!

Hola mis queridos amigos, hoy voy a compartir con vosotros  información sobre uno de los hoteles más famosos de Nueva York, el Hotel Plaza. ¡ Nueva York es una de mis ciudades preferidas del mundo así que espero que os guste!


Info: Speak Up magazine.
Photos:  el economista.es  /  alamy.es  /  robbreport.es

ULTIMATE LUXURY  /  THE NEW YORK PLAZA HOTEL

New York's Plaza Hotel is a twenty-storey building extending along Central Park and Fifth Avenue.  It features fountains and statues commemorating American history and Roman architecture and deities.  It has one of the most expensive rooms in the world: the Plaza Royal Suite that at $40,000 a night is still almost always booked.  Yet the Plaza is persistently unprofitable, and has had many owners.


FAME NOT FORTUNE

In the late 19th century, a skating club was demolished to construct a hotel. But it turned out to be too small. $12.5 million were invested to rebuild it to resemble a French chateau.  The Plaza opened in 1907 as a hotel and city residence for the rich.  A room cost under three dollars a night (around seventy in today's term)  Now, the same room costs over one thousand dollars.

IMAGINE

As the 20th century advanced, the Plaza Hotel consolidated its reputation as the place to party with celebrities. Marilyn Monroe gave her first press conference at the Plaza, during which the strap of her dress strategically broke.  When The Beatles first came to America they stayed here.  John Lennon and Yoko Ono later frequenting its Oyster Bar.  Kay Thompson, the creator of popular children's character Eloise, lived at the Plaza for many years with an entourage of pets.  She was evicted in the 1980s by its new owner, Donald Trump.


TRUMP LOVE

Yes, even Trump fell for its charms.  He bought the Plaza in 1988, making the extraordinary claim that it was an act of love and not money;  he called it "the Mona Lisa", spent millions on refurbishment, installed his wife, Ivana Trump, as president of the hotel, married his subsequent wife Marla Maples there in front of one thousand five hundred guests, and filed the hotel for bankrupcy in 1991.  Three years on, Trump sold his stake in the company to foreign investors.

SHINE ON!

Still, the Plaza partied on, although behind the scenes there was more scandal.  Finally, in 2018 after years of uncertainty, Shahal Khan, a wealthy Dubai investor, and Kamran Hakim, a major New York City landlord, came to an agreement to purchase a majority share of the property for six hundred million dollars.  It seems that even in the age of fast profit, the Plaza shines on as a symbol of glamour and decadence.


                                               *****************************

VOCABULARY

-twenty-store. de veinte pisos.
-to feature: presentar.
-deities: divinidades.
-to book:  reservar.
-to resemble: parecerse.
-chateau; castillo.
-strap: tirante.
-to evict: desahuciar.
-fell for its charms: se rindión a sus encantos.
-claim: afirmación.
-refurbishment: remodelación.
-guests: huéspedes.
-to file for bankrupcy; declararse en bancarrota.
-sold his stake: vendió su participación.
-to party on: continuar.
-landlord: propietario inmobiliario.


SEE YOU MY FRIENDS!