To quiet my nerves, I repaired to my favorite Chelsea pub, the Queen’s Elm. There the plump, jolly proprietor, red-moustached Sean Treacy, told me: “The idea of this pub is to keep it looking like an English pub—no thick carpets and chrome plating, no go-go girls. That’s why we attract all classes of people—plumbers, writers, clergymen, actors, artists, lords, laborers,” He rattled off an astounding list of celebrated customers, ending with the bibulous writer Brendan Behan—”I had to ask him to cool his rough language a bit.”
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Then, taking thought, he said: “Oh, yes—Julie Christie lives right across the street. Sure, I don’t think of Julie as a celebrity—she’s just a neighbor, in and out for this and that. Well I remember last winter when she came over on a raw Saturday night.” ‘Sean,’ she said, ‘I want a bucket of coke.’ “And will you be having it with ice, Julie?’ I asked. ” ‘Why, you poor fool,’ she said, ‘who would be wanting to drink Coke on a night like this? ‘Tis the kind I’m wanting to burn, you idjut!’
Of course, like many, I had fallen in love with Julie Christie as Lara, the beautiful, titanic blonde of the movie Doctor Zhivago. To meet her would be drama; to touch her hand, glorious theater.
“Sure, it’s easy. I’ll arrange it,” Sean promised, but the weeks went by and always I had just missed her. Finally, my last night in Chelsea, I was at the Queen’s Elm, drinking good-bye at 10:30, when Bill Thomson remarked, “Julie’s been in here twice today.”
It was now or never; so I walked across the street to a terrace of small row houses and boldly punched the white bell button by Miss Christie’s door. It opened and a wispy girl in a flowered muumuu and bare feet let me step into the dimly lit hall. Thinking it strange that the great actress was served by such a careless-looking housemaid, I presented my card and besought her to carry it to her mistress.
“Oh, Sean told me about you,” she said, “but I never give interviews.” “Come on now,” I said. “You’re not Julie Christie. Please, just ask her for me.”She was so disconcerted she almost stammered. “But I am Julie Christie. It is m’self!”
Suddenly she broke into that wide, incomparable grin, and it was indeed herself. But not the larger-than-life Lara—only an elfin, surprisingly small creature. “In that case,” I said, “you must at least let me shake the lovely Lara’s hand.”Shyly, she extended tiny fingers. I seized them and held on much too long, while I asked, “Shall I write Sean’s story about your coke?”
“What was it?”
I recounted it, and she said, “Well, it’s the kind of story they tell about me. I don’t remember, but I suppose it’s true.”Having lost her fingers, I brashly demanded, “Now you must let me hold your hand once more, while I say good-bye.” She offered it and I took it between my palms.
“Next time you’re back in London,” she said, “let me know and I’ll buy you a drink at Sean’s.” Again, the radiant Julie grin. Well, that’s Chelsea. There’s always an end of a rainbow there—for any bold soul that dares to chase it.
Da Silva came to the Brussels accommodation from Portugal. There are now six families of Portuguese living in the village. It wasn’t that each came at random; rather, it was a pipeline among relatives— a letter written to a cousin describing the beauty of the grottoes on the high plateau, at the source of La Douix River. It may have been written too that ivy rambles over the sides and fronts of many houses in Darcey, and that it is called vigne vierge, and that it sets the whole village ablush with the turning of the leaves in summer to a red like that of fresh rust.
Anyway, they came, and some married natives of the village. If any had second thoughts about having left Portugal, it was because of Darcey’s winters, a time of harsh cold and heavy snows. Da Silva worked as a carpenter, but now he is more or less retired, or, as he put it, “For the moment I am at ease because of a problem with my heart.”
THE CLOSING Of the café may have aggravated his heart problem, http://www.medicalnewstoday.com/releases/266722.php since he and a group of his friends had played cards there every Saturday for many years. Jose Llorente, who some¬how found his way to Darcey from Spain, also played cards in the café when he wasn’t working in his vegetable garden or taking long walks in the woods in search of snails.
“One Saturday, two years ago, we were playing cards, and one of our friends at the table was very quiet,” Llorente said, putting a bottle of eau-de-vie (life’s water), made of fer¬mented plums, on the table. “He was also very pale. He was leaning over his cane. I touched him, patted his chest, and found he was dead. He had said his wish was to die while playing cards with his friends, and that is how it hap¬pened. His wish was granted. I didn’t go back to the Prague apartments after that.”
Sitting in his house on a hill above the old A Village That Refuses to Die grain mill not more than 50 yards from the village square, Llorente may not be aware that the life he and all the others in Darcey have known is threatened with further change. More and more of the villages in the country are consolidating now to become what Jean-Pierre Lozato-Giotart, professor of geography at the Sorbonne and at the Catholic University of Paris, calls a “village center.”
“For statistical purposes this center is re¬garded as a village, but the activities there are not those of a village,” Lozato-Giotart said. “They are the activities of a small town. We
see the same thing happening in other parts of Europe, in Canada, in the United States, in Japan. The same thing— depopulation of old villages, growing big cities, and between big cities and the old villages, we now have the apparition of village centers. OK?”
Of course. But what does it matter what they call it? If Darcey survives, it will be not as a designation but as a binding place of tradi¬tion. Listen to his footsteps as Pierre Arbey walks across the village square every after¬noon to see if someone has opened the cafe. Listen to the clop of Madeleine Nocquard’s cows coming home in the evening.
With interest rates so low, why is the market not re-rating defensive high yielding shares (such as GlaxoSmithKline etc) upwards? They are often talked about as cheap, yet they consistently fall with the market.
We have seen some early signs that this may be changing; AstraZeneca and BT have been among the market’s best performing sonline lenders in recent months. I think as the economic reality becomes clearer, we will see greater discrimination in the market between companies that can continue to grow earnings and dividends and those that will find life more difficult.
I think the UK economy is likely to see little or no growth over the next few years. High unemployment will remain, particularly as public sector job losses increase, and this will impact consumption which remains integral to growth. The corporate sector is still in a cautious frame of mind and the government is retrenching. In this environment, my funds remain focused on companies that typically have sound balance sheets, visible and sustainable earnings, positive dividend growth and significant overseas exposure. I think these companies, in sectors such as pharmaceuticals, tobacco, utilities, telecoms and aerospace will prosper in a low growth environment and in many cases these stocks are as cheap as I have ever seen them.
I expect inflation to subside from current levels. The key reason here is in the labour market. While unemployment remains high, businesses have the upper hand in salary negotiations and price inflation will not feed through to wage inflation. Meanwhile, ongoing problems might cause you to do a consolidation for payday loans in the banking sector suggest that deflation remains a bigger threat over the medium term.
I believe the measures announced in the emergency Budget are ambitious and on a scale we have not seen before. They will have a significant impact on employment as public sector jobs are lost and this will clearly have consequences for consumption. I am doubtful that the private sector is strong enough to drive the economy forward once the public sector squeeze begins in earnest. The impact on the market is difficult to gauge and will to a large extent depend on how successful the government is in implementing its proposals. At the stock level, there will undoubtedly be opportunities for outsourcing companies, as the government turns to the private sector for help in driving costs down.
009′s rally was driven by cyclical Why did you choose not to make as to your portfolio to participate in lily?
What is your economic outlook for the UK, and how is your portfolio positioned as a result? Which sectors do you expect to prosper over the next five years?
PACK A PUNCH
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The boxing drills are perfect for blasting calories, while the ballet moves will work muscles you never knew you had, all in 1065 than 10 minutes. Who said exercise had to be boring?
HOW TO DO IT
Warm up by doing one minute of shadow boxing, then one minute of jogging on the spot, bringing your knees up high to your waist.
Next, tackle the following exercises in order, taking as little rest as you can between each move. Do the correct number 4f1tfietition4 (reps) of each and, once you’ve done the oft ult. rest for 45 seconds before starting again.
Do three circuits, march or the spot for a few minutes, then stretch.
- Ab jabs
Works: Arms, shoulders, back, abs and obliques Reps: 10
Start standing sideways-on with your left foot forward and hands in on-guard position in front of your face (a). Punch forwards with your left arm, palm facing down, elbow out to the side (b), then quickly return your arm back to on-guard position. Next, repeat with your right arm (c). Then punch your left arm straight up, (d). Repeat the punch with your right arm (e). Do the four moves as quickly as you can to make one rep.
- Plie squat
Works: Glutes, thighs, calves and core Reps: 15
Stand with your legs together, toes turned out in ballet first position. Hold a bar vertically at arm’s length in front of you, one end on the floor, and go up onto your tiptoes (a). Squat as low as you can, pushing your legs out to the sides (b). Push back up to the start, squeezing your glutes as you stand.
- Ab punch
Works: Abs, arms and shoulder
Lie on your back on the floor about hip-width apart and hands behind your head. Slowly start to round your spine as you sit up (a). At the top of the move, do four cross punches across your body (b), alternating your right and left arm and breathing out when you punch. Then bring your arms to on-guard position, round your spine, and inhale as you slowly roll back down to the floor. Keep your abs braced at all times.
- Swan lunge
Works: Shoulders, arms, bottom and thighs Reps: 10 each leg
Start with your feet hip-width apart, arms in a v-shape above your head (a). Step your left foot back into a lunge, as you raise your arms overhead. Once your front high reaches a 90° angle, flick your wrists backwards (b). Bring your left leg back to the start position, keeping your arms up high. Repeat on the other leg.
There’s no such thing as fight-proof body language, but there are steps you can take to minimise the odds of you being the guy that gets picked on. ‘It’s all about environment,’ says O’Keefe. ‘It doesn’t happen in churches, cinemas or supermarkets. Anger-fuelled environments are the problem.’ Reid agrees and says it’s also important to dispel the myth of the weedy Clark Kent figure getting picked on. ‘Last week I dealt with a huge, ripped, gym-going guy who was set on by three lads at a taxi rank when he was insensible with drink. When he found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time, he was unable to defend himself. Common sense – don’t get that drunk, and stay away from known trouble spots – is the best risk avoidance I can give’
O’Keefe has identified the triggers that make pub banter spill into pub violence and advises a bit of self-censorship to make yourself a lesser target. ‘If you feel you’re in a charged environment, don’t give people any pointers or indicators on your choice of sport, politics or religion. Don’t give some thug an excuse to pick a fight’
The law is a grey area when it comes to self-defence, because every situation is different. ‘You are allowed to use reasonable force to defend yourself,’ says Reid. ‘But your first responsibility is to prevent things getting physical if you can. If you’re unable to stop the situation turning nasty, proof that you did your best to avoid a confrontation will stand you in good stead.
As soon as you have neutralised your attacker, get out and don’t go back, says Steven. ‘No matter how angry someone has made you, going back to your car, getting a baseball bat out of the boot and beating him with it undermines your case for self-defence slightly.’
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Steven also says you shouldn’t let yourself become vulnerable because you’re worried about the legal repercussions. ‘The law says that you can use reasonable force to defend yourself. The police will take into account the background of everyone involved. Your attacker obviously doesn’t fear the law. When it comes to saving your own skin, neither should you.’
I sweat profusely – I heard , that you can have Botox injected into your glands to stop you from sweating. Is it safe and how much does It cost?
Joe Jenkins, by email
Rob Hicks replies: Injections with botulinum toxin type A are believed to be a safe and effective treatment for excessive sweating in the armpits. Your GP will be able to advise you whether this is available to you through the NHS or recommend a private practitioner. How much it costs privately depends upon the practitioner’s fees. Try to avoid things that make people sweat more such as stress and anxiety, spicy food, smoking and alcohol, and wear loose fitting clothing made with natural fibres. Bicarbonate of soda powder is a good natural antiperspirant.
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How do you make a rehydration drink?
Is it true I can make my own rehydration drink by adding salt and sugar to water?
J Morris, Brighton
Sarah Schenker replies: The optimum composition of a sports drink is between 50-80g glucose and 55-100mg of sodium (about quarter of a gram of salt) per litre. Sweeteners then need to be added for taste. Anything above 80g glucose per litre (8 per cent) and too much salt drastically reduces the rate at which the liquid moves from the stomach into the intestine, where it is absorbed by the body. It is better to drink small amounts (about 100m1) every 10-15 minutes rather than half a litre in one go as this also delays the speed in which the drink enters the small intestine from the stomach.
I visit image consultant Jenny Cutler at her office near Tower Bridge in London. She is warm and friendly, but doesn’t mince her words when she spies my dirty trainers. ‘Most women would have a fit at your shoes,’ she says. Examining my hands, she continues, ‘Bad nails shout lack of confidence and if you wear jewellery it draws attention to them.’ But her biggest worry is my bushy hair. ‘It would have been OK if you’d washed it,’ she says (I had, four hours earlier).
We move on to clothes. The concept of colour is more straightforward than I expected. My dark hair, brown eyes and olive skin dictate that I should opt for dark clothes. Jenny recommends blacks, burgundies and browns, although I can get away with a white shirt that shows off my olive skin is as long as I team it with dark trousers. She shows me pictures of dark men in white suits and I realise she’s right. They look plain wrong. You can every time you want check out how to use coconut oil and how with this you can get soft skin.
THE HAIR STYLIST
For my visit to the stylish Michael john hair salon in London, I make an effort by changing into some clean clothes. I needn’t have bothered though because I’m soon given an enormous robe to wear. I feel like I’m about to have surgery, not a short back and sides.
After having my hair washed (twice!), I’m introduced to my stylist, Daniel, who promises, ‘We’ll do something with it. That mullet’s not a good look. I see a lot of people who want the country gent look, but a good option is generally spiky and funky,’ he says.
As he takes up the scissors, I look like a member of Duran Duran circa 1985. Halfway through, with the sides and back cut short and the top in a centre parting, I look like Adolf Hitler circa 1935. Luckily, by the time Daniel has finished, my hair is bang up to date. It may be a superficial thing, but it has made an immeasurable difference to my appearance. I’m starting to feel that there may be some hope for me after all.
After a frenzy of AK-74 action, I moved on to rocket-propelled grenades. In the distance, tanks fired at a sand-bank target from their dug-in positions. In front of us, rocket launcher in hand, a soldier stood by a heap of bulbous shells laid out on a rug, his pose reminiscent of the Georgian market traders who line the streets in Kiev. Sadly, this guy wasn’t haggling Ero7 a pop, no more, no less. He told me how this particular weapon, the RPG-7, was used to devastating effect in Afghanistan. What he didn’t mention was that it’s also surprisingly heavy and gets blisteringly hot when fired. I nearly dropped the thing as it scalded my neck. Why don’t you try going on trend-statement.org/green-coffee-extract-the-answer-to-weight-loss/ and check the benefits green coffee offers to you.
Again, there was little instruction. I even had to load up myself, rather clumsily ramming the thin end of the shell into the launcher. Steadying my grip, I homed in on the centre of our target, a large polythene sheet spread over a wooden frame. A deafening roar went up as I fired, and for a second I was engulfed in a cloud. I had hit the target dead centre, but no explosion. It turned out the shells weren’t live. “That would be dangerous,” said one of the officers.
Luckily, a 4km drive in a T-72 tank (£r 4o) was next. This big baby was the attack vehicle of choice during the Cold War – a bit of a low-rider, wide and sleek, with the driver under the turret, his head popping up from inside the belly of the beast. Tank drivers, like fighter pilots, tend to be slightly built. You can’t even see the controls, but luckily there aren’t very many of them: just two levers either side of you to steer, plus standard clutch, acceleration, brake pedal and gearstick.
As the tank’s 84ohp engine rumbled menacingly to life, churning out Stygian plumes of smoke, I refrained from mentioning that I’d never got round to acquiring a driving license. But hurtling round the tree-lined circuit, carving up virgin Ukrainian countryside, I quickly mastered the tank’s controls and shifted up until I was pushing its 6okmh top speed. The thrill of toying with the T-7 z’s sheer, harnessed power was euphoric, and when we finally came to a halt I was grinning insanely.
Outside the gates, I ran into a civilian. “Want to buy an AK? Cheap?” he asked me in English. Having done it all day, I instinctively found myself reaching for the wallet “Hey,” he said, looking bemused. “Just kidding.”
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Needy, insecure and desperate for a man. How to spot her She’ll be propping up the bar with a super-size glass of chardonnay and a super-size visible panty line, great smile and shiny hair.
Ask “What’s your favorite song?” Walk away if she screeches, “Sisters are doing it for themselves”, and bursts into tears. Impressed by her hair look? Now, it’s easy to make yours looks silky shiny with coconut oil hair mask.
Careerist who loves your money more than you. How to spot her She asks about your job or car within seconds of meeting.
Ask “Is this your round?”
Walk away if she laughs hysterically.
MARION V JONES
Overly competitive — and masculine, she can never bear to lose.
How to spot her She’s the one swearing at the football on TV. Ask “Whose round is it?”
Walk away if she orders two pints of real ale and whisky chasers for everyone, challenges you all to a downing competition, and wins.
Brassy, sassy, feisty it-and overly loud.
How to spot her She’ll be very flirty, very tarty and a complete prick-tease.
Ask “What’s your name?”
Walk away if she replies, “Buy me and my friend a cocktail and I might tell you,” without even looking in your direction.
GRACE V JONES
Terrifying ball-buster with more sexual appetite than Stan Collymore in a car park.
How to spot her She’ll snarl at you across the dance floor and then pin you up against a wall.
Ask “Can you let me go please?” Walk away if you are able to after being kneed in the groin.
KEEPING UP WITH ‘MVP THE JONESES
Tells you all her friends have better sex than her How to spot her She rubbernecks to check out other men. Ask “Can I get you a drink?”
Walk away if she says, “I’ll have what she’s having.”
THE MR AND MRS JONES The married woman.
How to spot her The I band of lighter skin on the fourth finger of her left hand from which she has hurriedly removed a couple of rings.
Ask ‘Who’s that bloke over there giving me evils?” Walk away if He strides angrily over in your direction.