On the Eve of the Scottish Independence Referendum

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George Square, Glasgow, 17th September 2014. Over 2000 supporters of Independence for Scotland joined together in solidarity.

It’s the eve of the Scottish Independence Referendum September 2014. I want to write down everything I am feeling and thinking right now. This is a historic moment in world history and I am part of it! Never have I been so proud to be a Scot. I have spent months researching and educating people on social media about how important this referendum is to the future of our country.

This afternoon I went along to George Square. Despite what newspaper propaganda would have you believe, there were thousands of people. We filled the entire square, spilling out onto the pavements and across the other sides of each surrounding road.

I’m usually a bit uncomfortable in crowds, but after a few minutes of walking round, taking pictures and talking to a friend I happened to bump into, the electrified atmosphere drew me in like a moth to a flame. I had to get closer.

We sang Flower of Scotland, Caledonia, The Braes O’ Killiecrankie, The Wild Mountain Thyme and 500 Miles together. I felt more and more proud of my heritage. The people of Glasgow were a force to be reckoned with today, but as is the Glaswegian personality – indeed, the Scottish personality – they were a jovial, peaceful force. In between chants of “Singing aye, aye, we’re all voting aye!” (to the tune of “Oh ye cannae shove yer granny aff a bus!”) and the orgasmic screams of “YES! YES! YES! YES! YES!”, there were speeches from people who had spent their life waiting for this moment.

For me, the one speaker who stood out was Tommy Sheridan. A dynamic and charismatic speaker, Sheridan is always an absolute joy to hear, regardless of your opinion about the man or his politics. He began: “Brothers and sisters!” and the crowd roared and cheered with pleasure. He pointed out we were “…on the cusp of a democratic, peaceful revolution”. We screamed some more. Names such as Bob Geldof, Michelle Mone, George Foulkes and Simon Cowell got severely booed. The crowd went crazy when Tommy cried, “This referendum tomorrow is not about the millionaires. It’s about the millions!” We, again, began an ecstatic chant of “YES! YES! YES!” He quoted Nelson Mandela, a hero to Glasgow, “May your life choices be informed by hope not fear.” We cried out in unison, “Hope not fear! Hope not fear!” We screamed in delight when he said, “Scotland may only have forty years of oil left. Westminster only has forty hours left!”

Sheridan appealed to us that we waken up on Friday morning and know that we did everything we could. My eyes stung with tears as I thought about the amount of energy I’d used posting on social media and engaging people in discussion. I’m not a politician. In fact, I’ve never been very interested in politics, or very good at expressing my political opinions. Nevertheless, to have witnessed and experienced the injustice in Scotland, to know of the poverty where families have arrived at food banks malnourished after having not eaten for four days, how can you not become political? I watched a video earlier, now removed from YouTube, where a Scottish food bank worker tells the heartbreaking story of one mother who couldn’t wait to get food home, but began eating beans out the tin with her fingers because she was so hungry. Scotland is not a third world country! The governor of the Bank of England, Mark Carney, has said that Scottish assets are worth over a trillion sterling. That’s one trillion pounds. Yet, we have families starving, having to choose between heating and eating.

We have a high amount of unemployment amongst our university graduates. Our most vulnerable and poor are suffering and starving so that the Westminster MPs can have their wage rise taking them up to £70k, on top of their subsidised food, energy bills and rent (for their 1st and 2nd houses). Whilst that malnourished mother eats cold beans with her fingers, the Westminster elite are enjoying champagne and caviar on their expenses. Our nurses can’t remember the last time they had a wage rise, let alone a proper living wage. Our poor are not just those on benefits, our poor are our workers.

The NHS, which belongs to the people, is being privatised. Soon you will have to pay to visit your GP! The rich politicians don’t care about that, though. It wouldn’t surprise me if they managed to get subsidised health care along the way as part of their work’s package. I could joke that we’re all in the wrong job, but David Cameron, George Osborne and Iain Duncan Smith et al have all sold their souls to the devil. I’d rather be on the side of the angels.

Scotland has long been demonstrating against illegal wars and the nuclear base at Faslane. We don’t want Trident. Get it to fuck. The government has no right to talk about any other country having weapons of mass destruction when we are sitting with enough nuclear bombs to blow up Hiroshima 350 times right there on our back door, 30 miles away from Glasgow.

Something is very very wrong with this country. The Westminster government has a very black heart to have treated us, and those in other parts of the UK, so appallingly. We know there are parts of England suffering, and I hope we can pave the way for them to break free from the Westminster oppression too.

Sheridan finished by telling us that there is a song in his heart that keeps him going and he hopes it will keep us going too. Something Inside So Strong. He ended as he started, “Brothers and Sisters,” he spoke, “When they insist we’re just not good enough. When we know better, just look them in the eyes and say.” My hand rolled into a fist, with tears blinding me I punched the air and cried out loud, forgetting myself and with complete abandon, “We’re gonna do it anyway!” and the crowds exploded with passion.

Tommy Sheridan’s Speech, George Square, Glasgow, 17th September 2014

Some nice tunes for you.

Jack the Ripper was Polish Immigrant Aaron Kosminski, Book Claims

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Aaron Kosminski

Well, it turns out my top contender for the Whitechapel Murders of 1888, Aaron Kosminski, may actually be Jack the Ripper after all.  DNA evidence appears to have concluded that he was indeed the immortal legend so many books have been written, and films have been made, about.    

According to The Guardian: 

“A self-confessed “armchair detective” claims to have solved perhaps the most notorious whodunit ever by claiming to have discovered the identity of Jack the Ripper.

Russell Edwards claims Aaron Kosminski, a 23 year-old Polish immigrant who ended up dying in an asylum, was “definitely, categorically and absolutely” the man behind the grisly killing spree in 1888 in London’s East End.

Edwards said a blood-stained shawl he bought in 2007 after an auction in Bury St Edmunds, Suffolk, held vital DNA evidence which led him to the killer.

“I’ve got the only piece of forensic evidence in the whole history of the case,” he said. “I’ve spent 14 years working on it, and we have definitively solved the mystery of who Jack the Ripper was.”

Read the rest of The Guardian article here!

Read my article, “Curse of Whitechapel: Jack the Ripper” here!

Many, many thanks for all the support that my article has been getting over the last couple of days.  It’s very much appreciated.  Just the fact that you enjoy my writing is all I need to be happy and keep going with it.  

I will be posting up an article on Aaron Kosminski within the next day or two, so do pop back to my site and please leave a comment.  It’s always lovely to hear from readers.

Regards & Best Wishes,

Your friend, A.D. 

 

Thatcher rises from grave to help save Union

The Lady has turned…in her grave! Thatcher’s zombie has risen.

jenib1571's avatarThe Evening Harold

Ironically, it's the only Union she didn't try to break. Ironically, it’s the only union she didn’t try to break.

In a dramatic (and slightly gruesome) turn of events, former UK Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher has risen from the dead to wade into the battle to save the Union.

As polls show the pro-independence campaign taking the lead for the first time, Tory chiefs have made the momentous decision to deploy their ultimate weapon: the Thatchernator.

Using the dark arts of necromancy and voodoo, which many of the upper House are experienced practitioners of, Better Together leaders claim they had ‘no choice’ but to reanimate their dead leader.

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Nods to the Old Gods

 

 

 

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These poets included in their writing poems about ancient gods and other ethereal beings such as ghosts, witches, sprites, mermaids and fairies. Many readers might pass these references without realising the deeper meaning behind their literary use. These poetic tales prove that the Romantics had a respectful knowledge of myth, magic and ancient religion. Their nods to the old gods are recorded for posterity so that we might learn about the Old Ones and the beliefs of our ancestors.

Purchase now on Amazon.

 

Erotic Magic

Erotic Magic

In ancient times, many people used magic as a psychological tool to help them in affairs of the heart. The evidence found suggests they were willing to carry out many bizarre rituals in order to achieve their passionate desires. This thesis discusses the erotic magical practices, of both men and women in ancient Greece and Rome, as a weapon and a therapy for unrequited love.

Buy on Amazon.  Click here!

View From Above

Get off the planet alive with this spacey meditation, a technique used by the ancient Greeks when they needed to see the bigger picture.  In my other life, I’m a hypnotherapist.  I didn’t write this, but this is a recording I did a few years ago.  I have written others meditation scripts, though, and will be dedicating a page to them.  Look out for my new alien contact and astral projection meditations very soon!

War Beyond Reguntor: Prologue

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Cassa shook her head, confused now. He was inside her mind. Playing games with her. Toying with her memories. “No!” she fell to her knees. How had he done it?
Everything was eerily quiet now, pervaded by the devastation of the Ubris. None of the Deoras had seen the on-coming storm. Not even those like Cassa, who were trained by the Holy Order of the Quantum Solaris to intercept such vile enemies.
The Ubris were the psychic vampires of the neighbouring territory; outnumbered by the Deoras, but nevertheless powerful and dangerous enemies. One never knew when or where they would strike. Cassa stared at the wall in front of her, tears silently falling. How they got passed her perception field she could not fathom, but now it was too late.
She heard a noise and looked up. A figure stood in the door way. His robes were the swirling colours of the sun itself. Though his face was grave, his eyes were warm and compassionate. Around his neck was the triangular insignia of the Quantum Solaris. “It’s not your fault.”
“He took Achilleus.”
“He, and his vile hoards, did not only take Achilleus.”
Cassa looked into his deep grey soulful eyes, searching for an answer. There were none. “But our perception fields…” she started, her hands raised in an almost pleading gesture.
Delta Amon shook his head. “It would appear they found a way to block them,” he explained. It was of little comfort. She had still given Cizo Para all the ammunition he had needed. “It was not your fault,” the old man said, reading her thoughts. He sat down beside her, and put a comforting arm around her shoulders. She wept quietly.
Delta Amon dabbed her face with his own robes. “Word has come back. They have taken a majority of the warrior men to Luna Saevia.” It was several hundred miles away – a city in Ubrisia, land of desolation and nightmares. “They are imprisoned and, according to my sources, under some sort of spell or trance.” Cassa never questioned the validity of his information. Delta Amon’s sources were never wrong. “There is a strong psychic force-field around the location. We can’t reach them. I’ve tried.”
“Who remains in Reguntor?” she asked.
“All those who were in the temples. A few of the stronger priesthood, like yourself. About seventy five percent of the foot soldiers are gone, both men and women. A third of the Quantum Solaris remains in the city.”
He let it sink in.
“And the citizens? How many are left?”
“About half. Mostly women,” the High Priest replied.
“Why mostly women?”
“There used to be a saying on Earth, the planet that our forefathers came from: A nation is not conquered until the hearts of its women are on the ground. Then it is finished no matter how brave its warriors or how strong their weapons.” He looked out towards the horizon. “Today your heart, my brave priestess warrior, is on the ground along with the hearts of the people of Deora.”
“I’ll find them. I’ll get them back! I’ll find a way!” The anger and emotion rose in her.
Delta Amon shook his head, “It is no use. They have won, and they have gone.”
Cassa felt a stab of defeat and loneliness penetrate her soul. She shook her head, “But Achilleus.”
“Achilleus is gone,” he interrupted. “You must see. There is nothing you can do. Nothing anyone can do.”
She slumped against the wall, distraught, heart heavy as a rock. Bewildered at how she had been used and fooled by an enemy so much weaker than herself.
“If we can get through the force-field…”
Delta Amon turned, “Do you think the High Priests have not tried? We have. It is too strong. Now Cizo has our own priesthood working against us.” He took her hand and patted it gently, “You are good, Alpha, but we Delta have been trained in the highest of the magical arts for decades. We are defeated.”
“What will become of them?” Cassa bit her lip, tears stung her eyes again. She swallowed them back.
Delta Amon shook his head, “They will no doubt become part of the Ubris army. They will be used or discarded when no longer needed. They are a pawn, Cassa. Nothing more. Just a pawn in the Ubris power game.”
“Discarded?” her eyes were wide.
“Abandoned to walk the desert and forests most probably. They won’t realise.” He turned and laid his hands on her shoulders, “They won’t remember us. They won’t know their fate.”
“But we will know it. We will remember it!” Cassa cried, with a tone of indignation.
Delta Amon nodded sadly and arose. “And our hearts will be on the ground.”

Author(s) of the Week ~ Neely Powell

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Attorney Hunter MacRae and Private Investigator Zoe Buchanan uncover lies and secrets for the clients of their law firm. He’s a shape shifter who can morph from man to cat and back on a whim. She’s a psychic who is reluctant to explore her full abilities. Somehow, they make business and friendship work. When Hunter’s father and family patriarch is found murdered, a long-kept dark secret is revealed and their easy lives change forever. Hunter must abandon his carefree lifestyle to lead a battle with a rival monstrous enemy. Among the wealthy and powerful on both sides of New York’s Hudson River, Hunter and Zoe face their own true natures in a fight for survival. The question is will they survive the Chimera bent on destroying the next leader of the MacRae family–Hunter.

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Neely Powell is the pseudonym for co-writers Leigh Neely and Jan Hamilton Powell. The best friends met when they both worked at a rock ‘n roll radio station in Chattanooga. It turned out their husbands were long-lost high school buddies, and Jan and Leigh were both writing romantic fiction in their spare time. A partnership was born. They tried writing fiction together for several years, but life and other adventures got in the way. Their friendship endured as they went on to individual careers. Writing as Celeste Hamilton, Jan published 24 romance novels for Silhouette and Avon Books. Her books appeared on the B. Dalton, Waldenbooks Romance, and USA Today bestseller lists before she left fiction for a career in corporate communications.

Check out Neely Powell’s website!

Featured author from Goodreads group, Paranormal, Fantasy, Dystopia and Romance Readers, Writers and Reviewers

Author of the Week ~ H M Jones

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A young mother battles post-partum depression, marital troubles and addiction. Her weary mind plagued with horrible thoughts not her own, she decides to end it all. Suddenly, her mind and heart begin to race, her vision blurs and goes black. She awakes in a strange, dull, monochromatic blue world.

Here, she comes face-to-face with the most beautiful and ugliest moments of her life, choosing those that she will lose forever, and those that are too precious to let go.

In a world where many choose a living death, and no one is above suspicion, will her handsome Guide help her fight her way back to the beautiful life she left behind, or will she succumb to her ugliest urges and let her sweetest memories disappear into the blue?

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H.M. Jones lives in the beautiful PNW. She spends most of her time making sure her children are well rounded, open minded citizens of this world. The remainder of her time is spent writing, reading and visiting bookstores with her best friend, Mr. Jones.
H.M. just released her debut novel, Monochrome, in Oct. 2013. She was a student of English literature for both of her B.A. and M.A. degrees. You’ll see her favourite authors peeking from the corners of her pages, if she did her job right.

Check out H M Jones’ website here!

Author of the Week ~ Kyra Halland

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In a world where music is magic, composers and singers weave powerful spells with melodies, harmonies, and voices. Sarya dyr-Rusac has risen from her destitute childhood to become a talented, respected Arranger of musical magic rituals. Then a wedding ritual she wrote goes horribly wrong.

While in self-imposed exile for her failure, amidst a growing number of disasters which the musical Service has been unable to control, Sarya hears music on the wind – music that no one else can hear, music that suggests that there are forces at work in the world unaffected by the practice of musical magic. In search of answers, she returns to the Service, where she has to face the mistakes she made in the past and her complicated relationship with the gloriously talented (and obnoxiously perfect – or is it perfectly obnoxious?) Adan Muari.

Then a nameless man begins to appear in her dreams – a beautiful man in chains, who begs her to sing him free. Is he too dangerous and powerful to deal with, a threat to the man who loves her and to their world, or is he the key to solving the mysteries that threaten to tear the world apart?

TO BE RELEASED APRIL 10TH 2014

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Beginning with the Prydain books by Lloyd Alexander and the Earthsea Trilogy by Ursula K. Leguin, Kyra Halland has always loved fantasy. She has also always loved a good love story. In 1990, as a new stay-at-home mom with a young baby, she finally decided to combine those two loves – like chocolate and peanut butter! – by writing the kinds of romantic fantasy novels she wanted to read.

Complicated, honorable heroes; heroines who are strong, smart, and all woman; magic, romance, and adventure; and excursions into the dark corners of life and human nature mixed with a dash of offbeat humor – all of these make up Kyra Halland’s worlds. She is excited to share those worlds with readers, who she hopes will enjoy her stories and characters as much as she does.

Kyra Halland lives in southern Arizona. She has a very patient husband, two less-patient cats, and two young adult sons. Besides writing, she enjoys scrapbooking and anime, and she wants to be a crazy cat lady when she grows up.

Visit Kyra Halland’s blog here!

Featured Author of the Week from Goodreads Group:

“Paranormal, Fantasy, Dystopia and Romance Readers, Writers and Reviewers”