Podcasts about paddington station

What is lucid surrender? Can dreams facilitate psycho-spiritual transformation? Can we be in contact with those who have died and what does this suggest about the afterlife? We speak today with Melinda Powell from the Dream Research Institute in London. Melinda starts by talking about how she has been a lucid dreamer since a child, and she shares a powerful snake dream and how working with that dream in waking life was transformational. We talk about lucid surrender, both dreaming and awake, and how dreams are a kind of angel that is out ahead of us. After the break, we take a question from Max and talk about how our dreams are showing us how to live. We end with a conversation about the luminous void. BIO: Melinda Powell is co-founder of the Dream Research Institute, London, and past Vice-President of the International Association of Dreams. She has authored three books: The Hidden Lives of Dreams, Lucid Surrender: The Alchemy of the Soul in Lucid Dreaming, and her latest: Dreams My Mother Taught Me: Lessons in Lucid Dreaming from Beyond the Grave, which will be available from June 30th, 2025. Find our guest at: MelindaPowellDreams.com, driccpe.org.uk, ccpe.org.uk, and on IG @melindapowelldreams, @dreamresearchinstitute, and @thedreamboatpodcast Melinda co-founded the Dream Research Institute, London, in 2012 with Dr. Nigel Hamilton, and directed the DRI for seven years. The DRI promotes research on dreams and wellbeing and serves as a Dream Studies Centre, offering dream courses both in-person and online as well as educational events. Located in London's Little Venice behind Paddington Station, the DRI is housed in the Centre for Counselling and Psychotherapy Education (CCPE) which offers a 5-year accredited training in psychotherapy from a spiritual perspective and a master's degree in Transpersonal Psychotherapy. Melinda would like to send out a thank you to IASD and to the DRI for all their support over the years and to encourage others to join both organizations as a member. This show, episode number 313, was recorded during a live broadcast on May 31, 2025 at KSQD.org, community radio of Santa Cruz. Intro and outro music by Mood Science. Ambient music new every week by Rick Kleffel. Archived music can be found at Pandemiad.com. Many thanks to Rick for also engineering the show and to Tony Russomano for answering the phones. The Santa Cruz Festival of Dreams is coming October 10-12, 2025! Mark your calendars now. Check our landing page at FestivalofDream.net and FB group page HERE or follow #KeepSantaCruzDreaming on FB and IG. SHARE A DREAM FOR THE SHOW or a question or enquire about being a guest on the podcast by emailing Katherine Bell at katherine@ksqd.org. Follow on FB, IG, LI, & YT @ExperientialDreamwork #thedreamjournal. To learn more or to inquire about exploring your own dreams go to ExperientialDreamwork.com. The Dream Journal aims to: Increase awareness of and appreciation for nightly dreams. Inspire dream sharing and other kinds of dream exploration as a way of adding depth and meaningfulness to lives and relationships. Improve society by the increased empathy, emotional balance, and sense of wonder which dream exploration invites. A dream can be meaningful even if you don’t know what it means. The Dream Journal is produced at and airs on KSQD Santa Cruz, 90.7 FM. Catch it streaming LIVE at KSQD.org 10-11am Pacific Time on Saturdays. Call or text with your dreams or questions at 831-900-5773 or email at onair@ksqd.org. Podcasts are available on all major podcast platforms the Monday following the live show. The complete KSQD Dream Journal podcast page can be found at ksqd.org/the-dream-journal/. Closed captioning is available on the YouTube version of this podcast and an automatically generated transcript is available at Apple Podcasts. Thanks for being a Dream Journal listener! Available on all major podcast platforms. Rate it, review it, subscribe, and tell your friends.

This is Part Three of Three of The Vice Girl Killer. On the weekend of the 24th and 25th of January 1987, two sex-workers vanished from two street (Sussex Gardens and Cleveland Terrace) near to Paddington Station. With their beaten, strangled and mutilated bodies found barely 24 hours apart in places where they didn't belong. The police quickly confirmed that a crazed killer was on the loose. But still unsolved today, it remains one of the most perplexing unsolved double murders in Britain. But who was he? This episode explores the often-forgotten 'other' suspect in the murder of Marina Monti, and Paul Milburn in 1993. Date: Monday 26th of April 1993 at 4:20pm (murder of Paul MIlburn)Location: Noke Lane near St AlbansVictim: 1 (Paul Anthony Milburn)Culprits: Justin Martin Clarke Murder Mile is researched, written and performed by Michael of Murder Mile UK True Crime Podcast with the main musical themes written and performed by Erik Stein and Jon Boux of Cult With No Name and additional music, as used under the Creative Commons License 4.0. A full listing of tracks used and a full transcript for each episode is listed here and a legal disclaimer.Support this show http://supporter.acast.com/murdermile. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

This is Part Two of Three of The Vice Girl Killer.On the weekend of the 24th and 25th of January 1987, two sex-workers vanished from two street (Sussex Gardens and Cleveland Terrace) near to Paddington Station. With their beaten, strangled and mutilated bodies found barely 24 hours apart in places where they didn't belong. The police quickly confirmed that a crazed killer was on the loose. But still unsolved today, it remains one of the most perplexing unsolved double murders in Britain. But who was he?Date: Sunday 25th of January 1987 (last seen at 10:30pm)Location: The King's Head, 132 Edgware Road, London, UK, W2Victim: 1 (Racheal Applewhaite / Folke)Culprits: ?Murder Mile is researched, written and performed by Michael of Murder Mile UK True Crime Podcast with the main musical themes written and performed by Erik Stein and Jon Boux of Cult With No Name and additional music, as used under the Creative Commons License 4.0. A full listing of tracks used and a full transcript for each episode is listed here and a legal disclaimer.For links click hereTo subscribe via Patreon, click here Support this show http://supporter.acast.com/murdermile. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

This is Part One of Three of The Vice Girl Killer.On the weekend of the 24th and 25th of January 1987, two sex-workers vanished from two street (Sussex Gardens and Cleveland Terrace) near to Paddington Station. With their beaten, strangled and mutilated bodies found barely 24 hours apart in places where they didn't belong. The police quickly confirmed that a crazed killer was on the loose. But still unsolved today, it remains one of the most perplexing unsolved double murders in Britain. But who was he?Date: Saturday 24th of January 1987 (last seen at 10:30pm)Location: Sussex Gardens, Paddington, London, UK, W2Victim: 1 (Marina Alexandra Monti)Culprits: ?Murder Mile is researched, written and performed by Michael of Murder Mile UK True Crime Podcast with the main musical themes written and performed by Erik Stein and Jon Boux of Cult With No Name and additional music, as used under the Creative Commons License 4.0. A full listing of tracks used and a full transcript for each episode is listed here and a legal disclaimer.For links click hereTo subscribe via Patreon, click here Support this show http://supporter.acast.com/murdermile. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

In this episode of the Tech Talks Daily Podcast, we dive into the fascinating world of quantum computing with Richard Murray, CEO and co-founder of ORCA Computing. ORCA, a spin-out from Oxford University, is pioneering the development of photonic quantum computers that are robust, portable, and operable at room temperature. This innovative approach eliminates the need for the complicated and cumbersome cryogenics required by other quantum computing platforms. We explore how ORCA Computing is making waves in the quantum computing industry, building and selling their cutting-edge technology from their headquarters in London, right beside Paddington Station. Notably, the UK government recently acquired its first quantum computer from ORCA for the Ministry of Defence, with ambitions for it to function under field conditions, even on the back of a Land Rover. Richard shares insights on why ORCA has sold five quantum computers worldwide in the last two years and who their primary customers are. We discuss the factors driving the demand for these advanced systems and the competitive advantages of photonic quantum computing. Richard explains how photonics stands out against other quantum computing platforms and addresses common concerns about committing to a specific technology amid ongoing advancements. We also delve into the technical challenges of quantum computing, such as error correction and fault tolerance. Richard provides an update on how ORCA is tackling these issues and gives his perspective on when quantum computers might outperform the best existing high-performance computers. The conversation touches on the global quantum computing arms race, highlighting the unique position of a UK-based company like ORCA competing with industry giants such as IBM and Google. Richard discusses the recent acquisition of the Integrated Photonics Division of GXC in Austin, Texas, and how this strategic move enhances ORCA's capabilities and positions them at the forefront of quantum computing innovation.

"We just found this bear at the train station and he seems cool? Like he's good at shopping and staring at people. Let's bring him home! Don't mind all the mess he makes." That's probably what the Browns said to themselves upon first spying a charming little bear at Paddington Station. Celebrate Children's Book Week with us by diving into the first appearance of this marmalade-loving lil scamp.This episode is sponsored by Squarespace. Go to squarespace.com/overdue for 10% of your first purchase of a website or domain.Our theme music was composed by Nick Lerangis.Follow @overduepod on Instagram and BlueskyAdvertise on OverdueSee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Today's podcast brings you to Paddington Station, where I speak with passengers just off the Heathrow Express. Despite the ongoing UK Border Force strike, travellers report unexpectedly quick entries, highlighting the efficiency of e-gates and minimal queues. This podcast is free, as is my weekly newsletter. Sign up here to get it delivered every Friday. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

On Sunday I went to a station in London. Paddington Station. It is a very big station. Paddington is a terminal station. Trains go to the west of England from here. Last week and this week are the autumn break for British university students. I saw many university students at the station. There were people with small suitcases and others with big rucksacks. Some are going back to their parents' homes and some are going back to university after the break. I also went to this station to send my son off. I said to him, "Have a good trip" and saw him off.

日曜日にロンドンの駅に行きました。パディントン駅です。とても大きい駅です。パディントンはターミナル駅です。電車はここからイギリスの西に行きます。 先週と今週はイギリスの大学生の秋休みです。駅で大学生をたくさん見ました。小さいスーツケースを持っている人や、大きいリュックの人がいました。実家に帰る人と、休みが終わって、また大学に行く人です。私も息子を見送るためにこの駅に行きました。行ってらっしゃい、と見送りました。 息子を見送ってから、駅を出たら、おもしろいものがありました。動物たちが食事をしているスカルプチャーです。テーブルの上にお皿や食べ物が並んでいます。 にぎやかな食卓は、たくさんの動物でぎゅうぎゅうですが、空いている席が２つあって、座ってもいいそうです。チンパンジーの隣か、コアラの隣の席ですが、チンパンジーの隣は、前にライオンがいて、落ち着かないと思います。コアラの隣のほうが楽しそうです。見送りの後は　少し淋しくなりましたが、駅前アートで元気になりました。 On Sunday I went to a station in London. Paddington Station. It is a very big station. Paddington is a terminal station. Trains go to the west of England from here. Last week and this week are the autumn break for British university students. I saw many university students at the station. There were people with small suitcases and others with big rucksacks. Some are going back to their parents' homes and some are going back to university after the break. I also went to this station to send my son off. I said to him, "Have a good trip" and saw him off. When I left the station after seeing my son off, there was something interesting. It is a sculpture of animals eating. There are plates and food on the table. The lively dining table is crowded with many animals, but there are two empty seats and you can sit down. You can either sit next to a chimpanzee or next to a koala, but next to a chimpanzee would be uncomfortable because there is a lion in front of you. Next to a koala seems more enjoyable. I felt a bit sad after seeing them off, but the art around the station cheered me up.

Over half a million people commute to London every day. They travel at the same time, on the same train, with the same familiar faces in the carriage. Rarely does anyone think for a moment that they might not arrive at their destination. Tony Jasper was no different. Until, on one fateful morning in October 1999, Tony is onboard a train bound for Paddington Station when it collides head on with another train. In an extraordinary act of bravery, Tony is spurred into action, risking his life to save others from the disastrous wreckage. It marked the beginning of a life changing journey that would take him through trauma and depression, but also, to love. A Sony Music Entertainment production. Find more great podcasts from Sony Music Entertainment at sonymusic.com/podcasts and follow us @sonypodcasts To bring your brand to life in this podcast, email podcastadsales@sonymusic.com Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Join us for an West London extravaganza as we explore the iconic Trellick Tower and delve into the world of brutalist architecture. Our guest, Sam Gerson, is not only Ben's school friend but also his former housemate of 8 years. We discuss the history, significance, and unique features of Trellick Tower, a symbol of brutalist design that has left a lasting mark on London's skyline. Sam also takes us on a journey to another remarkable alternative landmark: Paddington Station. This is an episode for the architecture lovers as we chat about the station's rich history, architectural beauty, and its connection to transportation and literature. We hope you enjoy!You can now buy us a coffee if you enjoy our episodes - https://www.buymeacoffee.com/benjaminsbritainWe'd love you to subscribe and rate us on when you listen to your favourite podcasts. Follow us at @benjaminsbritainpod on Instagram for social content and updates.

Put on your duffle coat and don't forget your marmalade sandwiches... for this episode we dive into 2017's Paddington 2, the First Paddington (cinematic) sequel. We discuss earnest ursines, CGI, Hugh Grant, Brendan Gleeson, Peter Capaldi, crying in movies, sincerity, and popping books! Plus, we get into the Garfbug Report and play some I See What You Did There.Email us! Have a comment? Want to dress us down publicly? Have a First for us? Just wanna try to convince Kelly to play a video game?  debutbuddies@gmail.comListen to Kelly and Chelsea's awesome horror movie podcast, Never Show the Monster.Get some sci-fi from Spaceboy Books.Get down with Michael J. O'Connor's music!Next time: First Jack-o'-Lantern

https://amateurtraveler.com/uk-two-week-itinerary-by-train/ Hear about a UK two-week itinerary by train as the Amateur Traveler talks to Tracy Collins from UKTravelPlanning.com about a train trip in the country that invented trains. London We start in London. Spend some time visiting some of the iconic sites like the Tower of London or Westminster Abbey. Visit the great museums of London like Tracy's favorite, the Victoria and Albert Museum. Then we start our journey to see England, Wales, and Scotland from Paddington Station. Bath Visit the historic Roman Baths from which Bath gets its name. Visit the magnificent Bath Abbey. Stroll through the iconic Royal Crescent with its Georgian Architecture. Immerse yourself in Jane Austen's world at the Jane Austen Centre. As a side trip from Bath, consider one of the following Tour the stone circles of Stonehenge and Avebury. Explore the awe-inspiring Salisbury Cathedral. Take a scenic train ride to the picturesque Cotswolds. Cardiff Travel to the capital of Wales, Cardiff.  Explore the historic Cardiff Castle. Embark on an exciting Cardiff Dr. Who Tour. Visit the impressive Principality Stadium. Option 1: Liverpool Take a train to Liverpool, the home of The Beatles. Join the magical Mystery Tour to learn about the Fab Four. Visit the historic Albert Dock including the International Slavery Museum. Option 2: Lake District Explore Bowness-on-Windermere, a charming lakeside town. Visit Dove Cottage, the former home of William Wordsworth. Experience the charm of Hill Top, Beatrix Potter's House. Edinburgh Take a train to Scotland's capital of Edinburgh. Walk the Royal mile from Edinburgh Castle to the historic Holyrood Palace. Hike up Arthur's Seat or Calton Hill for stunning views. Dare to venture into the mysterious Edinburgh Vaults. As a side trip from Edinburgh consider: Travel to nearby Glasgow. Admire The Kelpies, Scotland's mythical horse sculptures. Visit St Andrews, the birthplace of golf. York Take the Jacobite Steam Train through Tracy's native Northumberland to the city of York. Explore the Roman history at the Roman Bath in York. Discover the Viking legacy at the Jorvik Viking Centre. Wander through the charming Shambles. Visit the wonderful Railway Museum. Return back to London.

In this podcast we go to a station famous for a fictional bear but with architecture from the mid 1800's. Paddington Station is used by millions of people each year and we go back and look at the history of this famous station.....

Standing at Hyde Park Corner in London, the Royal Artillery Memorial has been cited by one art critic as the finest work of sculpture of the 20th Century.  Its creator, Charles Sergeant Jagger, was once described by Auguste Rodin as "The Master".Who was Charles Jagger? In this episode, we look at one of the finest sculptors of the human form to have lived, his work including the RA Memorial and his incredible piece which stands on Platform 1 at Paddington Station commemorating the dead of the Great Western Railway.  Jagger served as an officer in the Worcestershire Regiment and was awarded an MC for his actions at Neuve Eglise during the German offensive in Spring 1918 where he was severely wounded.  We look at the trials and tribulations that surrounded the creation of the Royal Artillery Memorial and look at his work on the magnificent "No Mans Land"Support the podcast:https://www.buymeacoffee.com/footstepsbloghttps://www.patreon.com/footstepsofthefallen

John Tawell, dressed as a Quaker, rushed to the train station in London after leaving Sarah Hart, dying, on the floor of her cottage. As he sits on the train heading to Paddington Station, he doesn't notice those strange lines running alongside the tracks. They would soon become very important. Buy my books: katewinklerdawson.com  If you have suggestions for historical crimes that could use some attention, particularly in your own family, email me: info@tenfoldmorewicked.com  Follow me on social: @tenfoldmore (Twitter) / @tenfoldmorewicked (Facebook and Instagram)  2023 All Rights Reserved See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Episode #134Luke Spiller is the lead singer of The Struts and before the end of the year, he checked in with Mistress Carrie to talk about performing at Wembley during the Taylor Hawkins Tribute, songwriting, the holidays, LA vs. England, Queen, touring, NYE in Vegas with Bush, and so much more!Check out the custom playlist for Episode #134 hereFind Luke Spiller online:TwitterInstagramFind The Struts online:WebsiteTwitterInstagramFacebookYouTubeFind Mistress Carrie online:Official WebsiteThe Mistress Carrie Backstage Pass on PatreonTwitterFacebookInstagramYouTubeCameoPantheon Podcast Network

I'm at Paddington Station where the great reset following the Christmas break and recent industrial action was supposed to be behind us. Unfortunately for many travellers though, the railways continue to be in a right old state. When this shambles of strikes, overrunning engineering work, signal failures and general mayhem is finally over, the railway industry will have a heck of a job to do to try to entice passengers back. This podcast is free, as is my weekly newsletter, which you can subscribe to here: https://www.independent.co.uk/newsletters Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ncFy1zRA9HM 28 DAYS LATER Written by Alex Garland CLOSE ON A MONITOR SCREEN: Images of stunning violence. Looped. Soldiers in a foreign war shoot an unarmed civilian at point- blank range; a man is set on by a frenzied crowd wielding clubs and machetes; a woman is necklaced while her killers cheer and howl. Pull back to reveal that we are seeing one of many screens in a bank of monitors, all showing similar images... Then revealing that the monitors are in a... INT. SURGICAL CHAMBER - NIGHT ...surgical chamber. And watching the screens is a... ...chimp, strapped to an operating table, with its skull dissected open, webbed in wires and monitoring devices, muzzled with a transparent guard. Alive. Behind the surgical chamber, through the wide doorframe, we can see a larger laboratory beyond. INT. BRIGHT CORRIDOR - NIGHT A group of black-clad ALF Activists, all wearing balaclavas, move down a corridor. They carry various gear - bag, bolt cutters. As they move, one Activist reaches up to a security camera and sprays it black with an aerosol paint can. INT. LABORATORY - NIGHT The Activists enter the laboratory. CHIEF ACTIVIST Fucking hell... The Chief Activist takes his camera off his shoulder and starts taking photos. The room is huge and long, and darkened except for specific pools of light. Partially illuminated are rows of cages with clear perspex doors. They run down either side of the room. In the cages are chimpanzees. 2. Most are in a state of rabid agitation, banging and clawing against the perspex, baring teeth through foam-flecked mouths. They reach the far end of the lab, where on a huge steel operating table they see the dissected chimp. FEMALE ACTIVIST Oh God... The dissected chimp's eyes flick to the Activists. Blood wells from around the exposed brain tissue. Tears starts to roll down the Female Activist's cheeks. CHIEF ACTIVIST (to Female Activist) Keep your shit together. If we're going to get them out of here... The Finnish Activist is checking the perspex cages. FINNISH ACTIVIST I can pop these, no problem. CHIEF ACTIVIST So get to it. The Finnish Activist raises his crowbar and sticks it around the edge of one of the doors - about to prise it open. At the moment, the doors to the laboratory bang open. The Activists all turn. Standing at the entrance is the Scientist. A pause. The Scientist jumps to a telephone handset on the wall and shouts into the receiver. SCIENTIST Security! We have a break-in! Get to sector... A hand slams down the disconnect button. SCIENTIST ...nine. The Chief Activist plucks the receiver from the Scientist's hands, and then rips the telephone from the wall. A beat. 3. SCIENTIST I know who you are, I know what you think you're doing, but you have to listen to me. You can't release these animals. CHIEF ACTIVIST If you don't want to get hurt, shut your mouth, and don't move a fucking muscle. SCIENTIST (BLURTS) The chimps are infected! The Activists hesitate, exchanging a glance. SCIENTIST (continuing; stumbling, FLUSTERED) These animals are highly contagious. They've been given an inhibitor. CHIEF ACTIVIST Infected with what? SCIENTIST Chemically restricted, locked down to a... a single impulse that... CHIEF ACTIVIST Infected with what? The Scientist hesitates before answering. SCIENTIST Rage. Behind the Activists, the bank of monitors show the faces of the machete-wielding crowd. SCIENTIST (desperately trying to EXPLAIN) In order to cure, you must first understand. Just imagine: to have power over all the things we feel we can't control. Anger, violence... FINNISH ACTIVIST What the fuck is he talking about? 4. CHIEF ACTIVIST We don't have time for this shit! Get the cages open! SCIENTIST No! CHIEF ACTIVIST We're going, you sick bastard, and we're taking your torture victims with us. SCIENTIST NO! You must listen! The animals are contagious! The infection is in their blood and saliva! One bite and... FEMALE ACTIVIST They won't bite me. The Female Activist crouches down to face the wild eyes of the infected chimp behind the perspex. SCIENTIST STOP! You have no idea! The Scientist makes a desperate lunge towards her, but the Chief Activist grabs him. FEMALE ACTIVIST Good boy. You don't want to bite me, do you? The Female Activist gives a final benign smile, then the Finnish Activist pops open the door. SCIENTIST NO! Like a bullet from a gun, the infected chimp leaps out at the Female Activist - and sinks its teeth into her neck. She reels back as the chimp claws and bites with extraordinary viciousness. At the same moment, a deafening alarm begins to sound. FEMALE ACTIVIST (SHRIEKING) Get it off! Get if off! The Finnish Activist rips the ape off and throws it on to the floor. The infected chimp immediately bites into the man's leg. He yells with pain, and tries to kick it off. 5. Behind him, the Female Activist has started to scream. She doubles up, clutching the side of her head. FEMALE ACTIVIST I'm burning! Jesus! Help me! SCIENTIST We have to kill her! FEMALE ACTIVIST I'm burning! I'm burning! CHIEF ACTIVIST What's... SCIENTIST We have to kill her NOW! Meanwhile, the Female Activist's cries have become an unwavering howl of pain - and she is joined by the Finnish Activist, whose hands have also flown to the side of his head, gripping his temples as if trying to keep his skull from exploding. CHIEF ACTIVIST What's wrong with them? The Scientist grabs a desk-lamp base and starts running towards the screaming Female Activist... ...who has ripped off her balaclava - revealing her face - the face of an Infected. She turns to the Scientist. SCIENTIST Oh God. She leaps at him. He screams as they go tumbling to the ground. The Chief Activist watches in immobile horror as she attacks the Scientist with amazing ferocity. INT. CORRIDOR - NIGHT Another ACTIVIST makes his way down the corridor towards the lab. ACTIVIST (HISSES) Terry? Jemma? 6. No answer. ACTIVIST Mika? Where are you? He reaches the door to the lab, which is closed - and... ...as he opens it, we realize the door is also soundproofed. A wall of screaming hits him. He stands in the doorway - stunned by the noise, and then the sight. Blood, death, and his colleagues, all Infected. ACTIVIST Bloody hell. The Infected rush him. FADE TO BLACK. TITLE: 28 DAYS LATER INT. HOSPITAL ROOM - LATE AFTERNOON Close up of Jim, a young man in his twenties, wearing pale green hospital pyjamas. He has a month's beard, is dishevelled, and asleep. We pull back to see that Jim is lying on a hospital bed, in a private room. Connected to his arms are multiple drips, a full row of four or five on each side of his bed. Most of the bags are empty. Jim's eyes open. He looks around with an expression of confusion. Then he sits up. He is weak, but he swings his legs off the bed and stands. The attached drips are pulled with him and clatter to the floor. Jim winces, and pulls the taped needles from his arm. JIM Ow... His voice is hoarse, his mouth dry. Massaging his throat, he walks to the door. 7. INT. COMA WARD - LATE AFTERNOON The door to Jim's hospital room is locked. The key is on the floor. He picks it up and opens the door. Jim exits into a corridor. At the far end, a sign read: COMA WARD. There is no sign of life or movement. Jim walks down the corridor. One of the doors is half-open. From inside, there is the sound of buzzing flies. INT. HOSPITAL WARDS - LATE AFTERNOON Jim moves as quickly as he can through the hospital, still weak, but now driven by adrenaline. All the wards and corridors are deserted. Medical notes and equipment lie strewn over the floors, trolleys are upended, glass partition doors are smashed. In a couple of places, splashes of dried blood arc up the walls. He reaches A&E. On one wall is a row of public pay phones. He lifts a receiver, and the line is dead. He goes down the line, trying them all. In the corner of the A&E reception is a smashed soft-drinks machine, with a few cans collected at the base. Jim grabs one, rips off the ring-pull and downs it in one go. Then he grabs another, and heads for the main doors. EXT. HOSPITAL - LATE AFTERNOON Jim exits and walks out into the bright daylight of the forecourt. The camera begins to pull away from him. JIM Hello? Aside from a quiet rush of wind, there is silence. No traffic, no engines, no movement. Not even birdsong. EXT. LONDON - SUNDOWN Jim walks through the empty city, from St. Thomas's Hospital, over Westminster Bridge, past the Houses of Parliament, down Whitehall, to Trafalgar Square. 8. A bright overhead sun bleaches the streets. A light drifts litter and refuse. Cars lie abandoned, shops looted. Jim is still wearing his hospital pyjamas, and carries a plastic bag full of soft-drink cans. EXT. CENTRAL LONDON ROAD/CHURCH - NIGHT Jim walks. Night has fallen. He needs to find a place to rest... He pauses. Down a narrow side street is a church. He walks towards it. The front doors are open. INT. CHURCH - NIGHT Jim walks inside, moving with the respectful quietness that people adopt when entering a church. The doors ahead to the main chamber are closed. Pushing them, gently trying the handle, it is obvious they are locked. But another open door is to his left. He goes through it. INT. CHURCH - STAIRWELL - NIGHT Jim moves up a stairwell. Written large on the wall is a single line of graffiti: REPENT. THE END IS EXTREMELY FUCKING NIGH INT. CHURCH - GALLERY LEVEL - NIGHT Jim moves into the gallery level, and sees, through the dust and rot, ornate but faded splendor. At the far end, a stained- glass window is illuminated by the moonlight. Jim pads in, stands at the gallery, facing the stained-glass window for a moment before looking down... Beneath are hundreds of dead bodies. Layered over the floor, jammed into the pews, spilling over the altar. The scene of an unimaginable massacre. Jim stands, stunned. Then sees, standing motionless at different positions facing away from him, four people. Their postures and stillness make their status unclear. Jim hesitates before speaking. 9. JIM ...Hello? Immediately, the four heads flick around. Infected. And the next moment, there is the powerful thump of a door at the far end of the gallery. Jim whirls to the source as the Infected below start to move. The door thumps again - another stunningly powerful blow, the noise echoing around the chamber. Confused, fist closing around his bag of soft drinks, Jim steps onto the gallery, facing the door... ...and it smashes open. Revealing an Infected Priest - who locks sight on Jim, and starts to sprint. JIM Father? The Priest is half way across the gallery JIM Father, what are you... And now the moonlight catches the Priest's face. Showing clearly: the eyes. The blood smeared and collected around his nose, ears, and mouth. Darkened and crusted, accumulated over days and weeks. Fresh blood glistening. JIM Jesus! In a movement of pure instinct, Jim swings the bag just as the Priest is about to reach him - and connects squarely with the man's head. JIM Oh, that, was bad, that was bad... I shouldn't have done that... He breaks into a run... INT. CHURCH - STAIRWELL - NIGHT Down the stairwell... 10. INT. CHURCH - NIGHT ...into the front entrance, where the locked door now strains under the blows of the Infected inside. JIM Shit. EXT. CHURCH - NIGHT Jim sprints down the stone steps. As he reaches the bottom the doors are broken open, and the Infected give chase. EXT. CENTRAL LONDON ROAD - NIGHT Jim runs - the Infected have almost reached him. A hand fires up a Zippo lighter, and lights the rag of a Molotov cocktail. As Jim runs, something flies past his head, and the Infected closest to him explodes in a ball of flame. Jim turns, and sees as another Molotov cocktail explodes, engulfing two in the fireball. He whirls, now completely bewildered. WOMAN'S VOICE HERE! Another Molotov cocktail explodes. The Infected stagger from the blaze, on fire. WOMAN'S VOICE OVER HERE! Jim whirls again, and sees, further down the road... ...Selena, a black woman, also in her twenties. She wears a small backpack, a machete is stuck into her belt - and she holds a lit Molotov cocktail in her hand. ...Mark, a tall, good-looking man - throwing another bottle. It smashes on the head of the last Infected, bathing it in flame... The burning Infected bumps blindly into a car. Falls. Gets up again. 11. Blindly, it staggers off the road, into a petrol station - where an abandoned car has run over on the pumps. The ground beneath it suddenly ignites, and the petrol station explodes. EXT. SIDE STREET - NIGHT Selena and Mark lead Jim into a side street. JIM (DAZED) Those people! Who were... who... MARK This way! Move it! Jim allows himself to be hurried along. EXT. SHOP - NIGHT Selena stops outside a newsagent's shop. The shop's door and windows are covered with a metal security grill, but the grill over the door lock has been prised away enough for Selena to slip her hand through to the latch. INT. SHOP - NIGHT Inside, most of the shelves have been emptied of confectionery. Newspapers and magazines litter the floor. The magazine covers of beautiful girls and sports cars have become instant anachronisms. At the back of the shop, a makeshift bed of sheets and sleeping bag is nestled. This has obviously been Selena and Mark's home for the last few days. INT. NEWSAGENT - NIGHT Jim, Mark and Selena enter the newsagent's and pull down the grill. MARK A man walks into a bar with a giraffe. They each get pissed. The giraffe falls over. The man goes to leave and the barman says, you can't leave that lying there. The man says, it's not a lion. It's a giraffe. 12. Silence. Mark pulls off his mask and turns to Selena. MARK He's completely humorless. You two will get along like a house on fire. Selena, who has already taken off her mask, ignores Mark. SELENA Who are you? You've come from a hospital. MARK Are you a doctor? SELENA He's not a doctor. He's a patient. JIM I'm a bicycle courier. I was riding a package from Farringdon to Shaftesbury Avenue. A car cut across me... and then I wake up in hospital, today... I wake up and I'm hallucinating, or... MARK What's your name? JIM Jim. MARK I'm Mark. This is Selena. (BEAT) Okay, Jim. We've got some bad news. Selena starts to tell her story, and as the story unfolds we see the images she describes. SELENA It began as rioting. And right from the beginning, you knew something bad was going on because the rioters were killing people. And then it wasn't on the TV anymore. It was in the street outside. It was coming through your windows. We all guessed it was a virus. An infection. You didn't need a doctor to tell you that. It was the blood. 13. Something in the blood. By the time they tried to evacuate the cities, it was already too late. The infection was everywhere. The army blockades were overrun. And that was when the exodus started. The day before the radio and TV stopped broadcasting there were reports of infection in Paris and New York. We didn't hear anything more after that. JIM Where are your families? MARK They're dead. SELENA Yours will be dead too. JIM No... No! I'm going to find them. They live in Greenwich. I can walk. (heading for the exit) I'm going to... to go and... SELENA You'll go and come back. JIM (pulling at the grill) Yes! I'll go and come back. MARK Rules of survival. Lesson one - you never go anywhere alone, unless you've got no choice. Lesson two - you only move during daylight, unless you've got no choice. We'll take you tomorrow. Then we'll all go and find your dead parents. Okay? EXT. TRAIN TRACKS - DAY Jim, Selena and Mark walk along the Docklands Light Railway in single file. Ahead is a train. Behind the train, as if spilled in its wake, are abandoned bags, suitcases, backpacks. Mark drops pace to let Jim catch up. 14. MARK How's your head? Fucked? No reply. MARK (gesturing at the city) I know where your head is. You're looking at these windows, these millions of windows, and you're thinking - there's no way this many people are dead. It's just too many windows. Mark picks up a handbag from the tracks. MARK The person who owned this bag. Can't be dead. Mark reaches in and starts to pull things out as they walk, discarding the personal possessions. MARK A woman - (car keys) - who drove a Nissan Micra - (teddy) - and had a little teddy bear - (condoms) - and carried protection, just in case. Marks tosses the condoms behind him. MARK (DRY) Believe me, we won't need them anymore than she will. He hands the bag to Jim and walks ahead. Jim pulls out a mobile phone. He switches it on. It reads: SEARCHING FOR NETWORK. The message blinks a couple of times. Then the screen goes blank. Jim looks left. He is now alongside the train. The inside of the windows are smeared with dried blood. Pressed against the glass is the face of a dead man. 15. Jim drops the phone and breaks into a run - running past Mark and Selena. MARK (HISSING) Hey! EXT. GREENWICH COMMON - DAY Jim, Selena and Mark jog across Greenwich Common. Jim gestures towards one of the streets on the far side of the green. JIM (LOW VOICE) Down there. Westlink Street. Second on the left. EXT. WESTLINK STREET - DAY The street is modest red-brick semi-detached houses. They stand outside Number 43. Jim waits while Selena scans the dark facade. SELENA If there's anyone in there who isn't human... JIM I understand. SELENA Anyone. JIM I understand. Selena shoots a glance at Jim. Jim is gazing at the house. MARK Okay. EXT. BACK GARDEN - DAY Jim uses the key under the flowerpot to open the back door. INT. HOUSE - DAY Jim, Selena and Mark move quietly through the kitchen and the downstairs of the house. 16. Surprisingly, everything is neat and tidy. Washed plates are stacked by the sink, newspapers on the table are neatly piled. The headline on the top paper reads simply: CONTAINMENT FAILS. They reach the bottom of the stairs. Selena gestures upwards, and Jim nods. They start to ascend. At the top of the stairs, Selena sniffs the air, and recoils. Jim has noticed it too. His eyes widen in alarm. MARK (WHISPERS) Wait. But Jim pushes past and advances along the top landing, until he reaches a door. By now the smell is so bad that he is having to cover his nose and mouth with the sleeve of one arm. Jim pushes open the door. Inside, two decomposed bodies lie side by side on the bed, intertwined. On the bedside table are an empty bottle of sleeping pills and a bottle of red wine. Mark appears behind him. Jim stares at his parents for a couple of moments, then Mark closes the door. INT. BATHROOM - DAY Jim sits on the toilet, alone. He is crying. In his hand is a piece of paper: "Jim - with endless love, we left you sleeping. Now we're sleeping with you. Don't wake up." The paper crumples in his fist. INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY Jim, Selena and Mark sit in the living room, on the two sofas. Jim looks dazed, uncomprehending. Selena watches Jim, her expression neutral. SELENA They died peacefully. You should be grateful. JIM I'm not grateful. Jim's words hang a moment. Then Mark talks, simply, unemotionally, matter-of-fact throughout. 17. MARK The roads out were all jammed. So we went to Paddington Station. Hoping: maybe we could get to Heathrow, maybe buy our way on a plane. My dad had all this cash, even though cash was already useless, and Mum had her jewellery. But twenty thousand other people had the same idea. (A MOMENT) The crowd was surging, and I lost my grip on my sister's hand. I remember realizing the ground was soft. I looked down, and I was standing on people. Like a carpet, people who had fallen, and... somewhere in the crowd there were infected. It spread fast, no one could run, all you could do was climb. Over more people. So I did that. I got up, somehow, on top of a kiosk. (A MOMENT) Looking down, you couldn't tell which faces were infected and which weren't. With the blood, the screaming, they all looked the same. And I saw my dad. Not my mum or my sister. But I saw my dad. His face. A short silence. MARK Selena's right. You should be grateful. SELENA We don't have time to get back to the shop before dark. We should stay here tonight. Jim nods. He isn't sure what he wants to say. JIM My old room was at the end of the landing. You two take it. I'll sleep down here. SELENA We'll sleep in the same room. It's safer. 18. EXT. LONDON - DAY TO NIGHT The red orb of the sun goes down; the light fades. As night falls, London vanishes into blackness, with no electric light to be seen. Then the moon appears from behind the cloud layer, and the dark city is revealed. INT. HOUSE - NIGHT Jim is on the sofa. In the moonlight, we can see that his eyes are open, wide awake. Selena is curled on the other sofa, and Mark is on the floor - both asleep. The house is silent. Jim watches Selena sleeping for a couple of moments. Then, quietly, he gets off the sofa and pads out of the living room, down the hall to the kitchen. INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT Jim enters, standing just inside the doorway. He looks around the room. On one wall, a faded kid's drawing of a car is framed. Above the counter, on a shelf of cookery books, an album has a handwritten label on the spine: "Mum's Favorite Recipes". Jim walks to the fridge. Stuck to the door is a photo of Jim with his parents, arm in arm, smiling at the camera. Jim is on his mountain bike, wearing his courier bag. FLASH CUT TO: Jim, sitting at the kitchen table as his Mum enters, carrying bags of shopping. Jim walks over to the bags and pulls out a carton of orange juice, which he pulls straight to his mouth and begins to gulp down. His Dad walks in from the garden. JIM'S DAD Give me a glass of that, would you? JIM (draining the carton, and giving it a shake) It's empty. CUT BACK TO: 19. Jim touches the photo, their faces, lightly. Jim is facing away from the back door, which has a large frosted-glass panel. Through the glass panel, unseen by Jim a dark silhouette looms against the diffused glow from the moonlight. Through the kitchen window, a second silhouette appears. Then there is a scratching noise from the back door. Jim freezes. Slowly, he turns his head, and sees the dark shapes behind the door and window. A beat - then the door is abruptly and powerfully smashed in. It flies open, and hangs loosely held by the bottom hinge. Standing in the doorframe is an Infected Man. Jim shouts with alarm as the Man lunges at him - and they both go tumbling to the floor. At the same moment, the figure behind the kitchen window smashes the glass, and an Infected Teenage Girl starts to clamber through the jagged frame. The Man gets on top of Jim, while Jim uses his arms to hold back the ferocious assault. A single strand of saliva flies from the Man's lips, and contacts Jim's cheek. JIM (SCREAMS) Help! Suddenly, Selena is there, holding her machete. The blade flashes down to the back of the Man's neck. Blood gushes. Jim rolls the Infected Man off, just in time to see... ...Mark dispatch the Girl half way through the kitchen window. The Girl is holding Mark, but her legs are caught on the broken glass. Mark jabs upwards into the Girl's torso - she stiffens, then slumps, and as Mark steps back we see he is holding a knife. Jim hyperventilates, staring at the corpse on the kitchen floor. JIM It's Mr. Bridges... Selena turns to Jim. She is hyperventilating too, but there is control and steel in her voice. 20. SELENA Were you bitten? JIM He lives four doors down... Jim turns to the Girl sprawled half way through the window. JIM That's his daughter... SELENA Were you bitten? Jim looks at her. Selena is still holding her machete at the ready. JIM No... No! I wasn't! SELENA Did any of the blood get in your mouth? JIM No! SELENA Mark? Jim turns to Mark. He is standing in the middle of the room. Stepped away from the window. The Girl's blood is on his arm - and he is wiping it away... ...off the skin... where a long scratch cut wells up fresh blood. A moment. Then Mark looks at Selena, as if slightly startled. MARK Wait. But Selena is swiping with her machete. Mark lifts his arm instinctively, defensively, and the blade sinks in. Selena immediately yanks it back. MARK DON'T! Selena swipes again - and the blade catches Mark hard in the side of the head. Mark falls. 21. Jim watches, scrabbling backwards on the floor away from them, as Selena brutally finishes Mark off. Selena looks at Mark's body for a couple of beats, then lowers the blade. She picks up a dishcloth from the sink counter and tosses it to Jim. SELENA Get that cleaned off. Jim picks up the rag and hurriedly starts to wipe the Infected's blood from around his neck. SELENA Do you have any clothes here? JIM (fazed, frightened of her) I... I don't know. I think so. SELENA Then get them. And get dressed. We have to leave, now. With practiced speed, Selena starts to open the kitchen cupboards, selecting packets of biscuits and cans from the shelves, and stuffing them into her backpack. SELENA More infected will be coming. They always do. EXT. HOUSE - NIGHT Jim and Selena exit the front door. Jim has changed out of his hospital gear into jeans and a sweatshirt. He also has a small backpack, and is carrying a baseball bat. EXT. LONDON ROAD - NIGHT Jim and Selena walk: fast, alert. But something is not being said between them... until Jim breaks the silence. JIM (QUIET) How did you know? Selena says nothing. Continues walking. JIM (INSISTENT) How did you know he was infected? 22. SELENA The blood. JIM The blood was everywhere. On me, on you, and... SELENA (CUTTING IN) I didn't know he was infected. Okay? I didn't know. He knew. I could see it in his face. (A MOMENT) You need to understand, if someone gets infected, you've got somewhere between ten and twenty seconds to kill them. They might be your brother or your sister or your oldest friend. It makes no difference Just so as you know, if it happens to you, I'll do it in a heartbeat. A moment. JIM How long had you known him? SELENA Five days. Or six. Does it matter? Jim says nothing. SELENA He was full of plans. Long-distance weapons, so they don't get close. A newsagent's with a metal grill, so you can sleep. Petrol bombs, so the blood doesn't splash. Selena looks at Jim dispassionately. SELENA Got a plan yet, Jim? You want us to find a cure and save the world? Or fall in love and fuck? Selena looks away again. SELENA Plans are pointless. Staying alive is as good as it gets. Silence. 23. They walk. Jim following a few steps behind Selena. A few moments later, Jim lifts a hand, opens his mouth, about to say something - but Selena cuts him off without even looking round. SELENA Shhh. She has seen something... A line of tower blocks some distance away, standing against the night sky. In one of them, hanging in the window of one of the highest stories, colored fairy lights are lit up, blinking gently. INT. TOWER BLOCK - NIGHT Jim and Selena walk through the smashed glass doors of the tower block. It is extremely dark inside. Selena switches on a flashlight and illuminates the entrance hall. It is a mess. The floor is covered in broken glass and dried blood. The lift doors are jammed open, and inside is a dense bundle of rags - perhaps an old corpse, but impossible to tell, because the interior of the lift has been torched. It is black with carbon, and smoke-scarring runs up the outside wall. Selena moves the flashlight to the stairwell. There is a huge tangle of shopping trolleys running up the stairs. Selena gives one of the trolleys an exploratory tug. It shifts, but holds fast, meshed in with its neighbor. Then she puts a foot into one of the grates, and lifts herself up. Shining her light over the top of the tangle, she can see a gap along the top. JIM Let's hope we don't have to get out of here in a hurry. She begins to climb through. INT. TOWER BLOCK - NIGHT Jim and Selena move steadily and quietly up the stairwell, into the building. Reaching a next landing, they check around the corner before proceeding. Through a broken window, we can see that they are already high above most London buildings, and on the wall a sign reads: LEVEL 5. 24. SELENA Need a break? JIM (completely out of breath) No. You? SELENA No. They continue a few steps. JIM I do need a break, by the way. Selena nods. They stop on the stairs. Jim slips off his backpack and sits, pulling a face as he does so... SELENA What's up? JIM Nothing. She gives him a cut-the-crap expression. JIM I've got a headache. SELENA Bad? JIM Pretty bad. SELENA Why didn't you say something before? JIM Because I didn't think you'd give a shit. A moment, where it's unclear how Selena will react to this. Then she slips off her own backpack. SELENA (going through the bag) You've got no fat on you, and all you've had to eat is sugar. So you're crashing. Unfortunately, there isn't a lot we can do about that... 25. Selena starts to produce a wide selection of pills, looted from a chemist. SELENA ...except pump you full painkillers, and give you more sugar to eat. She holds up a bottle of codeine tablets, and passes it to Jim. SELENA As for the sugar: Lilt or Tango? JIM (CHEWING CODEINE) ...Do you have Sprite? SELENA Actually, I did have a can of Sprite, but... Suddenly there is a loud scream, coming from somewhere lower down the building. Jim and Selena both make a grab for their weapons. JIM Jesus! SELENA Quiet. The scream comes again. The noise is chilling, echoing up the empty stairwell. But there is something strange about it. The noise is human, but oddly autistic. It is held for slightly too long, and stops abruptly. SELENA That's an infected. Then, the sound of metal scraping, clattering the blockade. SELENA They're in. INT. SHOPPING TROLLEY BLOCKADE - NIGHT Two Infected, a Young Asian Guy and a Young White Guy, moving with amazing speed over the blockade. 26. INT. STAIRS - NIGHT Jim and Selena sprint up the stairs. Behind them, we can hear the Infected, giving chase, howling. They pass level eight, nine, ten... Jim is exhausted. SELENA Come on! JIM (out of breath, barely able to speak) I can't. Selena continues, and Jim looks over the edge of the stairwell, to the landing below... ...where the two Infected appear, tearing around the corner. INT. STAIRWELL - NIGHT Selena sprints up the stairs... and Jim sprints past her, in an amazing burst of energy and speed. They round another bend in the stairwell... ...then both Jim and Selena scream. Standing directly in front of them is a Man In Riot Cop Gear - helmet with full visor, gloves, a riot shield in one hand, and a length of lead pipe in the other. The Man lunges past both of them, barging past, where the Infected White Man has appeared at the stairwell. The Riot Gear Man swings his lead pipe and connects viciously with the White Man's head. The White Man falls backwards against the Asian Man. Both fall back down the stairs. The Riot Gear Man turns back to Jim and Selena. MAN Down the corridor! Flat 157! Jim and Selena are stunned, but start to run down the corridor. The Asian Man is coming back up the stairs. Jim looks back over his shoulder in time to see the Riot Gear Man deliver a massive blow to the Asian Man's head. 27. INT. CORRIDOR - NIGHT Jim and Selena run towards Flat 157. The door is open, but as they approach, it suddenly slams shut. JIM AND SELENA (hammering on the door) Let us in! GIRL (O.S.) Who is it? SELENA Let us in! The door opens a fraction, on the chain. The face of a girl appears. She is fourteen, pale, solemn-faced. GIRL Where's Dad? Jim looks back down the corridor. At the far end, the Man appears. He is holding the limp body of one of the Infected - and he tips it over the balcony, where it drops down the middle of the stairwell. MAN (CALLS BACK) It's okay, Hannah. Let them inside. The door closes, we hear the chain being slipped off, then it opens again. INT. FLAT - NIGHT Jim and Selena enter past the pale-faced girl. The flat is council, three-bed, sixteenth floor of the block. It has patterned wallpaper, and nice but boring furnishings. It is lit by candles. The entrance hall leads straight to the living room, which has French windows and a small balcony outside. On one wall, a framed photograph hangs, which shows the Man standing beside a black taxi cab. Next to him is a middle aged woman - presumably the Man's wife. Hannah sits at the cab's steering wheel, beaming. Another photo, beside, show Hannah sat in the seat of a go- kart. The Man follows Jim and Selena inside. 28. MAN Come in, come in. They follow the Man through to the living room, and Hannah recloses the front door, which has an impressive arrangement of locks and dead-bolts. INT. FLAT - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT In the living room, the fairy lights hang in the window, powered by a car battery. Lit by their glow, the Man goes through a careful ritual of shedding his gear, helped by Hannah. First, he lays down the riot shield. Then he puts the bloodsmeared lead pipe on a small white towel. Next, he removes his gloves - and places them beside the bar on the towel. Then he folds the towel over the weapon and gloves, and puts it beside the riot shield. Finally he removes the visored helmet. Jim and Selena watch him. They look pretty rattled, not really knowing what to expect. After the Man has finished shedding his gear, he turns. MAN So... I'm Frank, anyway. He extends his hand to Jim and Selena. Jim hesitates very briefly, then shakes it. JIM I'm Jim. SELENA Selena. Frank beams, and suddenly he seems much less frightening and imposing. If anything, he is just as nervous as Jim and Selena. FRANK Jim and Selena. Good to meet you. And this is my daughter, Hannah. (turning to Hannah) ...Come on, sweetheart. Say hello. Hannah takes a step into the room, but says nothing. FRANK So... so this is great. Just great. It calls for a celebration. 29. I'd say. Why don't you all sit down, and... Hannah, what have we got to offer? HANNAH (QUIETLY) We've got Mum's creme de menthe. An awkward beat. FRANK Yes, her creme de menthe. Great. Look, sit, please. Get comfortable. Sit tight while I get it. Frank exits. Selena, Jim and Hannah all stand, until Selena gestures at the sofa. SELENA Shall we? Jim and Selena take the sofa. Hannah stays standing. FRANK (O.S.) Where are the bloody glasses? HANNAH Middle cupboard. FRANK (O.S.) No! The good ones! This is a celebration! HANNAH Top cupboard. Another short, uncomfortable pause. Hannah looks at Jim and Selena from her position near the doorway. Her expression is blank and unreadable. JIM This is your place, then. Hannah nods. JIM It's nice. Hannah nods again. Frank re-enters. Frank is beaming, holding the creme de menthe, and four wine glasses. 30. FRANK There! I know it isn't much but... well, cheers! EXT. TOWER BLOCK - NIGHT The moon shines above the tower block. INT. FLAT - NIGHT Jim, Selena and Hannah all sit in the living room, sipping creme de menthe. Frank is disconnecting the fairy lights as he talks, and pulling the curtains closed, rather systematically checking for cracks along the edges. FRANK Normally we keep the windows covered at night, because the light attracts them. But when we saw your petrol station fire, we knew it had to be survivors... So we hooked up the Christmas tree lights. Like a beacon. Finished with the sofa, he sits on the armchair. SELENA We're grateful. FRANK Well, we're grateful you came. I was starting to really worry. Like I say, we haven't seen any sign of anyone normal for a while now. JIM There aren't any others in the building? Frank shakes his head. SELENA And you haven't seen any people outside? Frank's eyes flick to Hannah. FRANK We haven't left the block for more than two weeks. Stayed right here. Only sensible thing to do. Everyone who went out... 31. SELENA Didn't come back. FRANK And there's two hundred flats here. Most of them have a few cans of food, or cereal, or something. SELENA It's a good set-up. FRANK It isn't bad. He puts a hand on Hannah's shoulder, and gives it a squeeze. FRANK We've got by, haven't we? INT. BATHROOM - NIGHT

Today's podcast is brought to you from a deserted Paddington Station, as train workers stage another strike as part of a long-running dispute over pay, jobs and conditions. Of course this podcast is free, much like my newsletter that you can get delivered to your inbox every Friday. Subscribe here: https://www.independent.co.uk/newsletters Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Valentino Rossi sbarca nel mondo virtuale costituendo una società per progettare e sviluppare contenuti dedicati al suo brand VR46 nel metaverso, nel gaming e nel mondo degli NFT (non-fungible token). Intanto a Londra aprirà al pubblico il prossimo 24 maggio la «Elizabeth Line», una linea della metropolitana di Londra dedicata alla Regina più amata del pianeta. E lei, sorridente e vestita di giallo squillante, non è mancata all'inaugurazione della Tube alla Paddington Station, e ha fatto il biglietto. Partendo da queste due notizie anche noi ci mettiamo in viaggio, con la nostra diretta del mercoledì. La piattaforma di risparmio Trade Republic ha presentato una ricerca relativa ai comportamenti degli italiani nei confronti del tema investimenti post-pandemia. Ne parliamo in diretta con Emanuele Agueci, Country Manager per l'Italia di Trade Republic. La Conciliazione Paritetica rappresenta un'eccellenza e una peculiarità del nostro Paese. Permette di risolvere centinaia di migliaia di contenziosi tra consumatori e aziende in maniera rapida, semplice ed economica. Consumers' Forum il 16 maggio ha organizzato un convegno sul tema, nel corso del quale è stato presentato un report che fotografa l'utilizzo delle conciliazioni paritetiche. I cittadini conoscono questo strumento? Ce lo chiediamo in diretta con Segio Veroli e Sara Bitetti, rispettivamente Presidente e Segretario Generale di Consumers' Forum.

Morse code transcription: vvv vvv Schumer calls on Murdochs, Fox to curb broadcasting of racist theory US midterm elections a simple guide Amber Heard denies striking Johnny Depp and doctoring photos Pentagon officials testify at first public UFO hearing in more than 50 years Dallas salon shooting investigated as hate crime Justice Department asks 1 6 committee for transcripts Buffalo shooting Biden rebukes poison of white supremacy Fall of Mariupol appears at hand fighters leave steel plant Snap CEO Evan Spiegel, supermodel Miranda Kerr pay student loans for Otis Colleges graduating class CBS Los Angeles The only thing I want to hear is change Buffalo Shooting Latest Updates and Bidens Address Buffalo Shooters 673 Page Diary Reveals Descent Into Racist Extremism Here are the key House primaries to watch Tuesday Marianna Vyshemirsky My picture was used to spread lies about the war Elizabeth line Queen makes surprise visit to Paddington Station Mariupol Ukraine doing everything to save remaining fighters Authorities Hate against Taiwanese led to church attack Retired colonel speaks out on Russian TV US Congress holds first public UFO hearing in over 50 years Nearly 43,000 people died on US roads last year, agency says

Another surprise public appearance by the Queen - this time at Paddington Station.She's attended the opening of the Elizabeth Line, a new train line on the London Underground that opens to the public next week.UK correspondent Gavin Grey told Kate Hawkesby the project is well over budget and well behind schedule.He says it was due to open in 2010 with a budget of NZD$30 billion, which has now risen to NZD$40 billion.LISTEN ABOVE 

Binaural production - listen with headphones! Generative soundscape based on a two-dimensional random walk between four binaural soundscapes, recorded between March 25-29, 2022 in the London Underground. Released: 2 Apr 2022 1) a ride on the Central Line from West Kensington to Sloane Square 2) passengers, boats and planes on the Thames Walk near London Bridge 3) Liverpool Street Station in the morning 4) Paddington Station in the afternoon Part of the work-in-progress H.E.A.D. https://essl.at/works/HEAD.html

All aboard! Or should it be all are bored. We kick off this episode with THE GREAT WESTERN RAILWAY WAR MEMORIAL for WWI in England. SNOOZE. From there it's onto PADDINGTON STATION also in London and the terminus for the first unground train. Then we move onto a real titan of engineering ISAMBARD KINGDOM BRUNEL who placed second in the list of 100 GREATEST BRITONS. A list that was highly controversial as there were no Black Britons no the list. So a campaign was initiated by Patrick Vernon to create a poll of the 100 Greatest Black Britons and on that list MARY SEACOLE was voted number one. She was what many consider the first nurse. She and FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE revolutionized patient care. FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE was into DATA VISUALIZATION and completely revolutionized the field of statistics, giving way to INFOGRAPHICS and ISOTYPES. Long story short, nurses have and will continue to change the world! -------------------------------------------------------------------- Follow WikiFreakz IG and Twitter @wikifreakzz ————————————————————————————————————- Follow Jill Weiner on IG and Twitter @jill_lives www.jilllives.com Venmo @jill-weiner-1 -------------------------------------------------------------------- Follow Connor Creagan on IG and Twitter @connorcreagan www.connorcreagan.info Venmo @connor-creagan

Join author Rosanne Tolin to discuss her book More Than Marmalade, the only biography of Michael Bond, the author of the beloved Paddington stories. Did you know Paddington was inspired by the Kindertransport refugees fleeing Germany and arriving in London with just a suitcase and a name tag? Bond, a dropout, worked for the BBC and as a struggling writer for many years before finally finding success with Paddington, a story concept suggested by his literary agent. Rosanne talks about her research, Bond's life and work, and offers advice about writing for the middle grades. A great episode for Paddington fans and writers.Where to buy the book:https://www.chicagoreviewpress.com/more-than-marmalade-products-9781641603140.php?page_id=21Rosanne's website:https://www.rosannetolin.com/Thoughts? Comments? Potshots? Contact the show at:https://www.discreetguide.com/podcast-books-shows-tunes-mad-acts/Follow or like us on podomatic.com (it raises our visibility :)https://www.podomatic.com/podcasts/books-shows-tunes-mad-actsSupport us on Patreon:https://www.patreon.com/discreetguideFollow the host on Twitter:@DiscreetGuideThe host on LinkedIn:https://www.linkedin.com/in/jenniferkcrittenden/

Jason Furie loathes movies that feature half-assed CGI bipedal animals interacting in a live-action environment. Adam Roth is surprisingly ok with it. We dared our listeners to have us watch and review 2014's Paddington by using the hashtag #paddington4lyfe and we lost. In more ways than one according to Jason. Well, we watched it, and now we're reviewing it.Visit Website | Join Newsletter | Support | Facebook | InstagramMichael Bond

On the morning of March 2, 1964, a 19-year-girl flagged down a taxi to Paddington Station. She'd been instructed by her modelling agency to meet three other models under the station's clock at eight AM sharp. From there, they'd join a train halfway down platform one and meet the film crew—that's where the instructions ended. She had been working non-stop modelling jobs for few years after moving from her parent's home in Hurlington Court to South Kensington. A few weeks later, when her agent Cherry Marshall called to tell her was booked for an appointment with a casting agency, she wasn't expecting much from it. She assumed it would be just another ad casting, one where she'd be modelling clothes or products. However, as she strolled up to the Park Lane Hilton at one o'clock, she was surprised to see director Richard Lester. He couldn't disclose any information about the project to her; it was top secret. She only found out later that day when she got a call from her agent congratulating her for landing the part. This wasn't just any old shoot; she was going to be in “A Hard Day's Night”, the first-ever Beatles film. The movie was to capture a scripted 36-hour day in the boys' lives as they prepared for a big television appearance. As filming ended for the day and the train neared London, he turned to her and said. “Will you marry me?”. She laughed, unsure if he was being serious or not… If you listened to our last podcast, then you know our couple this week is George Harrison & Pattie Boyd.

Andrew Whalley, has been an instrumental part of Grimshaw since the earliest days of the practice and has been Partner in Charge of projects in diverse sectors including education, performing arts, transportation and workplace. His award-winning projects include the International Terminal at Waterloo, the Eden Project in Cornwall, the redevelopment of the historic Paddington Station in London and the Experimental and Performing Arts Building in Troy, New York. In 2001 Andrew established the Grimshaw New York studio. He was Partner in Charge of Grimshaw's New York office during its first ten years. During this time Grimshaw in New York was one of eight architectural practices selected for major public projects under Mayor Bloomberg's design excellence program. In the education and cultural arts sector, Andrew has been involved in a range of projects including - state of the art science facilities for the Danforth Science Center; the strategic plan for the Royal College of Art in London. He is currently overseeing The Sustainability Pavilion for the Dubai World Expo 2020. An ambitious project to create a totally net zero building as a centre piece for the Expo. Andrew has been involved with academia for many years. In the UK this has included several years teaching at the Royal College of Art and Imperial College's Industrial Design Department. In addition, Andrew ran a unit at the Architectural Association for three years and lectured at University College London for over five years. In the US, he has been a visiting Professor at Washington University and regularly lectures at UPenn. Andrew recently completed his appointment as Adjunct Professor at the Department of Architecture and Urban Studies, Politecnico Milano. Andrew was appointed as Deputy Chairman in 2011 and succeeded Sir Nicholas Grimshaw as Chairman in June 2019; the Chairman's Office is responsible for managing the practices core design ethos, brand identity and working to build relationships and to strengthen the profile of around the world. Andrew is a registered member of the AIA and RIBA and was elected as a Fellow of the Royal Society of Arts in 2006. In April 2019 he was elected to the board of the British Architectural Library Trust. He was elected to the AIA College of Fellows for Design in 2019 and awarded an Honorary Doctorate of Letters from his alma mater, The Glasgow School of Art. The Consortium for Sustainable Urbanizatiion honored Andrew with their 2021 Champion Award He is qualified as an architect in the UK and USA and has been with Grimshaw since 1986. Brought to you by the British Consulate General, New York. Follow us on Twitter and Instagram.

Paddington - Ray Taylor ShowSubscribe: InspiredDisorder.com/rts Binge Ad Free: InspiredDisorder.com/Patreon Show topic: A young Peruvian bear travels to London in search of a home. Finding himself lost and alone at Paddington Station, he meets the kindly Brown family, who offer him a temporary haven.Director: Paul KingWriters: Paul King, Hamish McColl Sponsored By:Patreon.com/InspiredDisorder $3 membership.*Binge full week of Ray Taylor Show (audio+Video)*Massive discount code for The Many Faces*Download raw photoshop filesStationHouseCoffee.com and @StationHouseCoffee on Instagram for premium small batch, single source coffee.Follow me:Twitter.com/RayTaylor Instagram.com/RayTaylorShow

In this week’s episode, Chris and Lizzie look at Camilla's elephant project in memory of her brother.The Duchess has been working with her late brother's charity Elephant Family to help get people to adopt their impressive statues.We hear from author Jilly Cooper about why she's supporting the cause and what she thinks the giant figures get up to at night.Camilla also spent the week with the medical detection dogs she met earlier in the year. The four-legged friends visited Paddington Station in London to see if they could sniff out coronavirus. Chris and Lizzie also discuss the Cambridges' cupcakes, Meghan's ongoing court case and if Prince Andrew plans to make a comeback.

Train operators will lay on more services from today, as schools reopen and people are encouraged to return to work (Image: commuters wearing face masks arrive at Paddington Station. Credit: Reuters)

Ben, a bee just graduated from college, is disillusioned at his lone career choice: making honey. On a special trip outside the hive, Ben's life is saved by Vanessa, a florist in New York City. As their relationship blossoms, he discovers humans actually eat honey, and subsequently decides to sue them. Tyler a young Peruvian bear travels to London in search of a home. Finding himself lost and alone at Paddington Station, he meets the kindly Brown family, who offer him a temporary haven. Micheal a young boy wins a tour through the most magnificent chocolate factory in the world, led by the world's most unusual candy maker. #Mom skip through this...... --- This episode is sponsored by · Anchor: The easiest way to make a podcast. https://anchor.fm/app --- Send in a voice message: https://anchor.fm/smashingcast/message Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/smashingcast/support

From the Royal Albert Hall to Yellowstone, Argentina to Paddington Station. Mark Knopfler to Penicillin. Level up your Trivia skills the easy way with this episode of Pub Quiz Prep. Pub Quiz Prep - Putting the 'edge' in your general knowledge. Invest in success with Pub Quiz Prep. The education you want, the education you deserve. https://www.pubquizprep.com/ https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCGPntvGDgKZVvQ6MPeix1eQ https://www.instagram.com/pubquizprep/?hl=en https://twitter.com/PubQuizPrep --- Send in a voice message: https://anchor.fm/pubquizprep/message

From the Royal Albert Hall to Yellowstone, Argentina to Paddington Station. Mark Knopfler to Penicillin.Level up your Trivia skills the easy way with this episode of Pub Quiz Prep.Pub Quiz Prep - Putting the 'edge' in your general knowledge.Invest in success with Pub Quiz Prep.The education you want, the education you deserve.https://www.pubquizprep.com/https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCGPntvGDgKZVvQ6MPeix1eQhttps://www.instagram.com/pubquizprep/?hl=enhttps://twitter.com/PubQuizPrep

1891. We return, once again, to Mrs. J. E. H. Gordon's fantastical book, Decorative Electricity (with a Chapter on Fire Risks), for the as-of-yet unheard epilogue. Paddington Station gets electrified. Dynamos are real and also basically volcanoes. Bears remain highly controversial. And through it all, Mrs. Gordon is here to guide us with her own peculiar brand of Victorian sass.

Londons tunnelbana är världens äldsta. Den som öppnade år 1863 och efter bara några månader hade ”the tube” 26 000 resenärer om dagen. Londons tunnelbanan har fått så modell för alla efterföljare i världens metropolerMetropolitanlinjen i London gick strax under gatuplanet och vagnarna drogs av ånglok, men kom med tiden att elektrifieras. Den svarade på ett allt större transportbehov i världsmetropolen London.Redan på 1830-talet kom de första förslagen på en underjordisk järnväg, men det dröjde fram till 1850-talet innan några seriösa förslag planerades. Och 1855 beslutade det brittiska parlamentet att en underjordisk järnväg skulle byggas mellan Paddington Station och Farringdon Street som skulle gå via King's Cross med namnet Metropolitan Railway.I veckans sommarspecial lyssnar vi på Amanda Svenssons kortbok Tunnelbanan i London från bokserien Karavan Stadsguider. Inläsare är Kajsa Linderholm. Läs mer på www.karavanreseguider.se. Eller lyssna på fler guider hos ljudbokstjänster som Storytel och Nextory.Bild:Queens Road (now Queensway) tube station, c. 1900, Public Domain, Wikipedia.Ljudeffekten är "London Underground, Arriving, A.wav" av InspectorJ (www.jshaw.co.uk) hos Freesound.orgSee acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information. See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

Benji and Nick are taking a walk along a canal to Paddington Station. Along the way they look at Facebook and discuss the telly they've been watching, including Crocodile Shoes and Black Summer. Emails to podcast@nicholasbriggs.com

Engineering Success interviews Patricia Moore the UK Managing Director and an Executive Board Member at Turner & Townsend. Patricia leads a team of over 2,000 experts with an annual turnover of c.£250m and drives the continued growth of the UK business across real estate, infrastructure and natural resources. Patricia started her career in Scotland in 1988 as a trainee Quantity Surveyor working on a marine civils project for the navy. She moved to London in 1994 providing cost management services to the Jubilee Line extension, followed by the Paddington Station refurbishment. She joined Turner & Townsend in 1999 and having supported clients across a diverse range of projects, in 2015 was appointed Managing Director of Turner & Townsend's UK infrastructure business. Patricia is a member of the Royal Institution of Chartered Surveyors and has an MSc in Construction Law and Arbitration, she is an Associate of the Chartered Institute of Arbitrators and has a Diploma in Company Direction from the Institute of Directors.

  Lending money can be difficult. Any good investor should understand the importance of doing background checks prior to finalizing any transaction. Who to loan money to can often be decided through that person's reputation. No one would want to fall on the empathy trap and end up trusting the wrong person. Predicting and verifying are key to loaning money. The gut is a powerful tool in lending and instinct can make or break and investment.. Verifying is a crucial part of investing. In every aspect of it, one needs to understand the value of doing background checks before putting precious money into jeopardy. — Listen to the podcast here: Background Checks And Why You Should Use Them I'm on a trip to London, England and I’m here to give a presentation on the claims that we’ve had, what we see are the common causes, the amounts of these claims and how much they’re going to cost underwriters and insurance companies. I have been tapped by my company to present at Lloyd’s of London in the Old Library, which for me is quite an honor. I know people in London do it all the time, but to have a Texan come across the pond and the company pay for it, to put on an hour and a half presentation, for me, it's very much a humble brag. Take that for what it’s worth, but at the same time, I am very happy to be here. This is a huge thing for me. It’s on my bucket list and I’m happy to be sharing some of this with you because as a private lender, I still have a day job. That’s what I’m trying to coach with people. Keep your day job, stay on top of it and private lend on the side to help the old retirement out a little bit. I jumped on the Heathrow Express at Paddington Station and I decided I’m going to cab it over to my hotel. I did that, got checked in, changed in my suit, hoofed it over to the office, gave a presentation for one of the London brokers on fracking, a preview of what I’m going to do. Thankfully, it went very well. For that, I am grateful and very happy, but I have not recorded near as much as I had hoped to. I have a composition book full of notes. It's my first opportunity to put something meaningful on tape. I’ve been here for about five days, I would hope to have five recordings. I jumped off the plane. I was busy and then I had the presentation. The next day I had coffees, lunches, coffees and pints, dinner with my boss, our chairman. Friday, I ate a meal. It did not agree with me and it didn’t show up until late Friday night. Saturday has been a complete wash, just lying in bed, being miserable and drinking lots of water. I got up at 6:15, London time. It’s 12:15 for Central Houston time. I fumbled my way on the tube, on the subway, because there are four lines that were closed. One of them was the one that I needed. I ended up going to Paddington Station, which is the completely wrong station I needed for the ticket I wanted. After about £20 of cab fare and some looking on my smartphone, I finally got over to King's Cross Station in London. I took a train up to Cambridge and I’m so glad I did it. It’s nothing out of the ordinary except when you consider that Cambridge University and Trinity College is where both Stephen Hawking and Sir Isaac Newton attended. Newtonian Physics, black holes, http://www.hawking.org.uk/a-brief-history-of-time.html (A Brief History of Time), all that was figured out in this town. Background Checks: Always verify before trusting somebody.   Of course, it’s full of tourists. I can’t tell you how many American accents I heard, which normally is disappointing to me when I travel. I’m a snob, I will admit it. I can’t tell you the number of nationalities I heard and saw while I was hoofing it, backpacking it through Cambridge. What an amazing day. Disparagingly, I’m going to say Cambridge is the Oklahoma of the UK. I’ll tell you why.

004: Slow Down, Buckaroo Released: March 12, 2019 In this episode, Anne shares what she learned while knitting the first and second swatches of the Master Hand Knitting Program. Thank You for your Pattern Help Anne asked, and listeners responded. A couple of great recommendations came in for Anne's request for a good beginner's sock pattern. Michelle recommended Anne try the Hermione's Everyday Socks pattern, available for free on Ravelry. Nancye from Dragonfly Fibers suggested she pick up a copy of Knitting Rules by Stephanie Pearl-McPhee. It hadn't arrived by the time this episode was recorded, but Anne has it now. It has both a "recipe" for socks and an actual pattern, so Anne will be drawing from that as well! Thank you! Knitting Techniques The first two swatches involve knitting K2, P2 and K1, P1 ribbing. In the podcast, Anne discusses three techniques that helped her neaten up ribbing. Listen to the episode to learn more about why ribbing can be tricky and how these techniques might help you. Asking the Questions Anne was a little too hasty in knitting the first few swatches for the program and learned her lesson about taking the time to exhibit some humility and accept she does not, in fact, know everything. Honey This week's affiliate is Honey, an app for your desktop that tracks price changes on Amazon, applies coupon codes for the best deals when you shop online, and earns points to apply toward gift cards when you shop at major retailers. Anne has used it for over a year now and Honey has found many ways to save. Join through this link, and Anne will receive a modest finder's fee to apply toward the cost of running the show. Product Review Nostepinnes are specially formed dowels used to wind yarn into center-pull balls for knitters. Knitter's Pride was very kind to send Anne a selection of products to test in exchange for her honest review. The first product she got to play with was a nostepinne. As promised in the episode, here's the YouTube video that she found the most helpful when she was learning: https://youtu.be/toNeWx0FOjA Anne found the nostepinne to be a helpful addition to her knitting tool kit. It saves the hassle of setting up a ball winder and swift for smaller winding jobs. It's also lightweight and wooden, which makes it a handy tool for those who knit while traveling. For people who are new to knitting, it's an economical option compared to buying a ball winder and swift combo. If you end up sticking with the hobby, those can come later, and the nostepinne can become something you use for the joy of it. The Knitter's Pride nostepinnes are available at many local yarn stores, or you can find them on Amazon, available in two varieties. Help for England! Bath, England: A knitter's paradise? Anne and her aspiring-fashion-designer daughter will be traveling to London at the beginning of April. Anne, the knitter, and Abby, the seamstress, are trying to pack their itinerary with appropriately-themed destinations. Aside from the typical tourist destinations, they will be visiting the Victoria and Albert, Fashion and Textile Museum, Camden Market, and the Village Haberdashery while they are in London, and Wool, Country Threads, and the Fashion Museum while they are in Bath. If you have any other recommendations for them within a 2-hour train ride of Paddington Station, please get in touch! Featured Music The first song featured was "Solo Acoustic Guitar" by Jason Shaw and available at the Free Music Archive. The second song was "Ready to Go" by Arthur Nicholson, a folk singer from Shetland. Arthur's work is insightful and mellow. You'll find yourself singing his choruses to yourself through the day. Find his work on Soundcloud or YouTube, or visit his website to buy a CD for yourself. If you are a musician who would like a song featured on the program, or if you have comments or feedback, please contact the show at anne@familypodcasts.com. Social Media You can follow Anne on Instagram or Ravelry as @ithoughtiknewhow. She posts articles related to knitting and yarn on the Facebook Group and on Twitter as @ThoughtIKhewHow. Subscribe to the podcast through iTunes or the podcast app of your choice.

In 1873 a Methodist missionary in New York City heard rumors of a little girl who was kept locked in a tenement and regularly whipped. She uncovered a shocking case of neglect and abuse that made headlines around the world. In this week's episode of the Futility Closet podcast we'll tell how one girl's ordeal led to a new era in child welfare. We'll also outsource Harry Potter and puzzle over Wayne Gretzky's accomplishments. Intro: By a 1976 resolution, George Washington forever outranks every other officer in the U.S. Army. Humorist Robert Benchley invented some creative excuses for missing deadlines. Sources for our feature on Mary Ellen Wilson: Eric A. Shelman and Stephen Lazoritz, The Mary Ellen Wilson Child Abuse Case and the Beginning of Children's Rights in 19th Century America, 2005. Susan J. Pearson, The Rights of the Defenseless: Protecting Animals and Children in Gilded Age America, 2011. Frank R. Ascione, Children and Animals: Exploring the Roots of Kindness and Cruelty, 2005. John E.B. Myers, Child Protection in America: Past, Present, and Future, 2006. Karel Kurst-Swanger and Jacqueline L. Petcosky, Violence in the Home: Multidisciplinary Perspectives, 2003. Mary Renck Jalongo, "The Story of Mary Ellen Wilson: Tracing the Origins of Child Protection in America," Early Childhood Education Journal 34:1 (August 2006), 1-4. Lela B. Costin, "Unraveling the Mary Ellen Legend: Origins of the 'Cruelty' Movement," Social Service Review 65:2 (June 1991), 203-223. Sallie A. Watkins, "The Mary Ellen Myth: Correcting Child Welfare History," Social Work 35:6 (November 1990), 500-503. Jini L. Roby, "Child Welfare Workers in the Legal Arena: What Works, What Doesn't," Child & Youth Care Forum 30:5 (October 2001), 305-319. John E.B. Myers, "A Short History of Child Protection in America," Family Law Quarterly 42:3 (Fall 2008), 449-463. Susan Vivian Mangold, "Protection, Privatization, and Profit in the Foster Care System," Ohio State Law Journal 60 (1999), 1295. Natan Sznaider, "Compassion and Control: Children in Civil Society," Childhood 4:2 (1997). Marian Eide, "The First Chapter of Children's Rights," American Heritage 41:5 (July/August 1990). Wanda Mohr, Richard J. Gelles, Ira M. Schwartz, "Shackled in the Land of Liberty: No Rights for Children," Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science 564:1 (July 1999), 37-55. Gerald P. Mallon, "From the Editor: The Legend of Mary Ellen Wilson and Etta Wheeler: Child Maltreatment and Protection Today," Child Welfare 92:2 (March/April 2013), 9-11. Amy D. Ronner, "Dostoevsky as Juvenile Justice Advocate and Progenitor of Therapeutic Jurisprudence," St. Thomas Law Review 30:1 (Fall 2017), 5-41. "Mary Ellen Wilson: Fact and Fiction," [Wooster, Ohio] Daily Record, April 29, 2017, 7. Howard Markel, "Case Shined First Light on Abuse of Children," New York Times, Dec. 14, 2009. Daniel Bergner, "The Case of Marie and Her Sons," New York Times Magazine, July 23, 2006. Al Baker, "Plan to Hasten Abuse Inquiries Came Up Short," New York Times, Jan. 21, 2006. "Mary Ellen Wilson," New York Times, June 14, 1874. "Mary Ellen Wilson," New York Times, June 2, 1874. "The Custody of Mary Ellen Wilson," New York Times, May 1, 1874. "Mary Ellen Wilson," New York Times, April 22, 1874. "Mary Ellen Wilson; Further Testimony in the Case Two Indictments Found Against Mrs. Connolly by the Grand Jury," New York Times, April 14, 1874. "Mary Ellen Wilson; Further Testimony as to the Child's Ill Treatment by Her Guardians," New York Times, April 12, 1874. "The Mission of Humanity; Continuation of the Proceedings Instituted by Mr. Bergh on Behalf of the Child, Mary Ellen Wilson," New York Times, April 11, 1874. "Mr. Bergh Enlarging His Sphere of Usefulness," New York Times, April 10, 1874. Listener mail: Mary Ilyushina and Lianne Kolirin, "Russia Reopens Investigation Into 60-Year-Old Dyatlov Pass Mystery," CNN, Feb. 4, 2019. "Russia's Reopening the Investigation of the Spooky Dyatlov Pass Incident," The Chive, Feb. 8, 2019 (warning: contains some potentially disturbing photos and one strong expletive). Emma Friedlander, "Russian Investigators Are Reopening the Dyatlov Pass Case. But What Is It?" Moscow Times, Feb. 14, 2019. Wikipedia, "Tiddles" (accessed Feb. 12, 2019). Rob Baker, "Tiddles, a rather fat cat that lived in the public lavatories at Paddington Station - 1978 - photo by Chris Moorhouse," Twitter, Jan. 22, 2019. Anna Menta, "Absurd New 'Harry Potter' Book Written By Predictive Text Already Has Fan Art," Newsweek, Dec. 14, 2017. Gael Fashingbauer Cooper, "Harry Potter Chapter Written by Bots Is Magically Terrible," CNET, Dec. 12, 2017. Charles Pulliam-Moore, "This New Harry Potter Chapter, Written With Predictive Keyboards, Is Magically Unhinged," io9, Dec. 12, 2017. Shannon Liao, "This Harry Potter AI-Generated Fanfiction Is Remarkably Good," The Verge, Dec 12, 2017. Evan Narcisse, "That Freaky Bot-Written Harry Potter Chapter Got Turned into a Freaky Cartoon," io9, Feb. 13, 2018. Botnik. Harry Potter and the Portrait of What Looked Like a Large Pile of Ash. This week's lateral thinking puzzle was contributed by listener Mandie Bauer. Here's a corroborating link (warning -- this spoils the puzzle). You can listen using the player above, download this episode directly, or subscribe on Google Podcasts, on Apple Podcasts, or via the RSS feed at https://futilitycloset.libsyn.com/rss. Please consider becoming a patron of Futility Closet -- you can choose the amount you want to pledge, and we've set up some rewards to help thank you for your support. You can also make a one-time donation on the Support Us page of the Futility Closet website. Many thanks to Doug Ross for the music in this episode. If you have any questions or comments you can reach us at podcast@futilitycloset.com. Thanks for listening!

In the final episode of Season 2, Melissa calls Dave and asks him to meet her and Ben at Paddington Station. They share a worrying plan with him, and when he gets home and listens to his voicemail, things get even worse. The Family Tree is a magical realist dramatic fiction about family, belonging, change and identity. iTunes RSS Help The Family Tree to grow by becoming a Patron.

Fandompoddens Stockholm/Uppsala sitter denna gång inledningsvis på Paddington Station i London och väntar in ett ångdrivet fartvidunder. Vi pratar såklart om Steam Punk detta avsnitt. Estetik, literatur, film, gadgets och mycket mer.. Steam ON!

ADVENTURE IV. THE BOSCOMBE VALLEY MYSTERY  We were seated at breakfast one morning, my wife and I, when the maid brought in a telegram. It was from Sherlock Holmes and ran in this way: “Have you a couple of days to spare? Have just been wired for from the west of England in connection with Boscombe Valley tragedy. Shall be glad if you will come with me. Air and scenery perfect. Leave Paddington by the 11:15.” “What do you say, dear?” said my wife, looking across at me. “Will you go?” “I really don't know what to say. I have a fairly long list at present.” “Oh, Anstruther would do your work for you. You have been looking a little pale lately. I think that the change would do you good, and you are always so interested in Mr. Sherlock Holmes' cases.” “I should be ungrateful if I were not, seeing what I gained through one of them,” I answered. “But if I am to go, I must pack at once, for I have only half an hour.” My experience of camp life in Afghanistan had at least had the effect of making me a prompt and ready traveller. My wants were few and simple, so that in less than the time stated I was in a cab with my valise, rattling away to Paddington Station. Sherlock Holmes was pacing up and down the platform, his tall, gaunt figure made even gaunter and taller by his long grey travelling-cloak and close-fitting cloth cap. “It is really very good of you to come, Watson,” said he. “It makes a considerable difference to me, having someone with me on whom I can thoroughly rely. Local aid is always either worthless or else biassed. If you will keep the two corner seats I shall get the tickets.” We had the carriage to ourselves save for an immense litter of papers which Holmes had brought with him. Among these he rummaged and read, with intervals of note-taking and of meditation, until we were past Reading. Then he suddenly rolled them all into a gigantic ball and tossed them up onto the rack. “Have you heard anything of the case?” he asked. “Not a word. I have not seen a paper for some days.” “The London press has not had very full accounts. I have just been looking through all the recent papers in order to master the particulars. It seems, from what I gather, to be one of those simple cases which are so extremely difficult.” “That sounds a little paradoxical.” “But it is profoundly true. Singularity is almost invariably a clue. The more featureless and commonplace a crime is, the more difficult it is to bring it home. In this case, however, they have established a very serious case against the son of the murdered man.” “It is a murder, then?” “Well, it is conjectured to be so. I shall take nothing for granted until I have the opportunity of looking personally into it. I will explain the state of things to you, as far as I have been able to understand it, in a very few words. “Boscombe Valley is a country district not very far from Ross, in Herefordshire. The largest landed proprietor in that part is a Mr. John Turner, who made his money in Australia and returned some years ago to the old country. One of the farms which he held, that of Hatherley, was let to Mr. Charles McCarthy, who was also an ex-Australian. The men had known each other in the colonies, so that it was not unnatural that when they came to settle down they should do so as near each other as possible. Turner was apparently the richer man, so McCarthy became his tenant but still remained, it seems, upon terms of perfect equality, as they were frequently together. McCarthy had one son, a lad of eighteen, and Turner had an only daughter of the same age, but neither of them had wives living. They appear to have avoided the society of the neighbouring English families and to have led retired lives, though both the McCarthys were fond of sport and were frequently seen at the race-meetings of the neighbourhood. McCarthy kept two servants—a man and a girl. Turner had a considerable household, some half-dozen at the least. That is as much as I have been able to gather about the families. Now for the facts. “On June 3rd, that is, on Monday last, McCarthy left his house at Hatherley about three in the afternoon and walked down to the Boscombe Pool, which is a small lake formed by the spreading out of the stream which runs down the Boscombe Valley. He had been out with his serving-man in the morning at Ross, and he had told the man that he must hurry, as he had an appointment of importance to keep at three. From that appointment he never came back alive. “From Hatherley Farmhouse to the Boscombe Pool is a quarter of a mile, and two people saw him as he passed over this ground. One was an old woman, whose name is not mentioned, and the other was William Crowder, a game-keeper in the employ of Mr. Turner. Both these witnesses depose that Mr. McCarthy was walking alone. The game-keeper adds that within a few minutes of his seeing Mr. McCarthy pass he had seen his son, Mr. James McCarthy, going the same way with a gun under his arm. To the best of his belief, the father was actually in sight at the time, and the son was following him. He thought no more of the matter until he heard in the evening of the tragedy that had occurred. “The two McCarthys were seen after the time when William Crowder, the game-keeper, lost sight of them. The Boscombe Pool is thickly wooded round, with just a fringe of grass and of reeds round the edge. A girl of fourteen, Patience Moran, who is the daughter of the lodge-keeper of the Boscombe Valley estate, was in one of the woods picking flowers. She states that while she was there she saw, at the border of the wood and close by the lake, Mr. McCarthy and his son, and that they appeared to be having a violent quarrel. She heard Mr. McCarthy the elder using very strong language to his son, and she saw the latter raise up his hand as if to strike his father. She was so frightened by their violence that she ran away and told her mother when she reached home that she had left the two McCarthys quarrelling near Boscombe Pool, and that she was afraid that they were going to fight. She had hardly said the words when young Mr. McCarthy came running up to the lodge to say that he had found his father dead in the wood, and to ask for the help of the lodge-keeper. He was much excited, without either his gun or his hat, and his right hand and sleeve were observed to be stained with fresh blood. On following him they found the dead body stretched out upon the grass beside the pool. The head had been beaten in by repeated blows of some heavy and blunt weapon. The injuries were such as might very well have been inflicted by the butt-end of his son's gun, which was found lying on the grass within a few paces of the body. Under these circumstances the young man was instantly arrested, and a verdict of ‘wilful murder' having been returned at the inquest on Tuesday, he was on Wednesday brought before the magistrates at Ross, who have referred the case to the next Assizes. Those are the main facts of the case as they came out before the coroner and the police-court.” “I could hardly imagine a more damning case,” I remarked. “If ever circumstantial evidence pointed to a criminal it does so here.” “Circumstantial evidence is a very tricky thing,” answered Holmes thoughtfully. “It may seem to point very straight to one thing, but if you shift your own point of view a little, you may find it pointing in an equally uncompromising manner to something entirely different. It must be confessed, however, that the case looks exceedingly grave against the young man, and it is very possible that he is indeed the culprit. There are several people in the neighbourhood, however, and among them Miss Turner, the daughter of the neighbouring landowner, who believe in his innocence, and who have retained Lestrade, whom you may recollect in connection with the Study in Scarlet, to work out the case in his interest. Lestrade, being rather puzzled, has referred the case to me, and hence it is that two middle-aged gentlemen are flying westward at fifty miles an hour instead of quietly digesting their breakfasts at home.” “I am afraid,” said I, “that the facts are so obvious that you will find little credit to be gained out of this case.” “There is nothing more deceptive than an obvious fact,” he answered, laughing. “Besides, we may chance to hit upon some other obvious facts which may have been by no means obvious to Mr. Lestrade. You know me too well to think that I am boasting when I say that I shall either confirm or destroy his theory by means which he is quite incapable of employing, or even of understanding. To take the first example to hand, I very clearly perceive that in your bedroom the window is upon the right-hand side, and yet I question whether Mr. Lestrade would have noted even so self-evident a thing as that.” “How on earth—” “My dear fellow, I know you well. I know the military neatness which characterises you. You shave every morning, and in this season you shave by the sunlight; but since your shaving is less and less complete as we get farther back on the left side, until it becomes positively slovenly as we get round the angle of the jaw, it is surely very clear that that side is less illuminated than the other. I could not imagine a man of your habits looking at himself in an equal light and being satisfied with such a result. I only quote this as a trivial example of observation and inference. Therein lies my m�tier, and it is just possible that it may be of some service in the investigation which lies before us. There are one or two minor points which were brought out in the inquest, and which are worth considering.” “What are they?” “It appears that his arrest did not take place at once, but after the return to Hatherley Farm. On the inspector of constabulary informing him that he was a prisoner, he remarked that he was not surprised to hear it, and that it was no more than his deserts. This observation of his had the natural effect of removing any traces of doubt which might have remained in the minds of the coroner's jury.” “It was a confession,” I ejaculated. “No, for it was followed by a protestation of innocence.” “Coming on the top of such a damning series of events, it was at least a most suspicious remark.” “On the contrary,” said Holmes, “it is the brightest rift which I can at present see in the clouds. However innocent he might be, he could not be such an absolute imbecile as not to see that the circumstances were very black against him. Had he appeared surprised at his own arrest, or feigned indignation at it, I should have looked upon it as highly suspicious, because such surprise or anger would not be natural under the circumstances, and yet might appear to be the best policy to a scheming man. His frank acceptance of the situation marks him as either an innocent man, or else as a man of considerable self-restraint and firmness. As to his remark about his deserts, it was also not unnatural if you consider that he stood beside the dead body of his father, and that there is no doubt that he had that very day so far forgotten his filial duty as to bandy words with him, and even, according to the little girl whose evidence is so important, to raise his hand as if to strike him. The self-reproach and contrition which are displayed in his remark appear to me to be the signs of a healthy mind rather than of a guilty one.” I shook my head. “Many men have been hanged on far slighter evidence,” I remarked. “So they have. And many men have been wrongfully hanged.” “What is the young man's own account of the matter?” “It is, I am afraid, not very encouraging to his supporters, though there are one or two points in it which are suggestive. You will find it here, and may read it for yourself.” He picked out from his bundle a copy of the local Herefordshire paper, and having turned down the sheet he pointed out the paragraph in which the unfortunate young man had given his own statement of what had occurred. I settled myself down in the corner of the carriage and read it very carefully. It ran in this way: “Mr. James McCarthy, the only son of the deceased, was then called and gave evidence as follows: ‘I had been away from home for three days at Bristol, and had only just returned upon the morning of last Monday, the 3rd. My father was absent from home at the time of my arrival, and I was informed by the maid that he had driven over to Ross with John Cobb, the groom. Shortly after my return I heard the wheels of his trap in the yard, and, looking out of my window, I saw him get out and walk rapidly out of the yard, though I was not aware in which direction he was going. I then took my gun and strolled out in the direction of the Boscombe Pool, with the intention of visiting the rabbit warren which is upon the other side. On my way I saw William Crowder, the game-keeper, as he had stated in his evidence; but he is mistaken in thinking that I was following my father. I had no idea that he was in front of me. When about a hundred yards from the pool I heard a cry of “Cooee!” which was a usual signal between my father and myself. I then hurried forward, and found him standing by the pool. He appeared to be much surprised at seeing me and asked me rather roughly what I was doing there. A conversation ensued which led to high words and almost to blows, for my father was a man of a very violent temper. Seeing that his passion was becoming ungovernable, I left him and returned towards Hatherley Farm. I had not gone more than 150 yards, however, when I heard a hideous outcry behind me, which caused me to run back again. I found my father expiring upon the ground, with his head terribly injured. I dropped my gun and held him in my arms, but he almost instantly expired. I knelt beside him for some minutes, and then made my way to Mr. Turner's lodge-keeper, his house being the nearest, to ask for assistance. I saw no one near my father when I returned, and I have no idea how he came by his injuries. He was not a popular man, being somewhat cold and forbidding in his manners, but he had, as far as I know, no active enemies. I know nothing further of the matter.' “The Coroner: Did your father make any statement to you before he died? “Witness: He mumbled a few words, but I could only catch some allusion to a rat. “The Coroner: What did you understand by that? “Witness: It conveyed no meaning to me. I thought that he was delirious. “The Coroner: What was the point upon which you and your father had this final quarrel? “Witness: I should prefer not to answer. “The Coroner: I am afraid that I must press it. “Witness: It is really impossible for me to tell you. I can assure you that it has nothing to do with the sad tragedy which followed. “The Coroner: That is for the court to decide. I need not point out to you that your refusal to answer will prejudice your case considerably in any future proceedings which may arise. “Witness: I must still refuse. “The Coroner: I understand that the cry of ‘Cooee' was a common signal between you and your father? “Witness: It was. “The Coroner: How was it, then, that he uttered it before he saw you, and before he even knew that you had returned from Bristol? “Witness (with considerable confusion): I do not know. “A Juryman: Did you see nothing which aroused your suspicions when you returned on hearing the cry and found your father fatally injured? “Witness: Nothing definite. “The Coroner: What do you mean? “Witness: I was so disturbed and excited as I rushed out into the open, that I could think of nothing except of my father. Yet I have a vague impression that as I ran forward something lay upon the ground to the left of me. It seemed to me to be something grey in colour, a coat of some sort, or a plaid perhaps. When I rose from my father I looked round for it, but it was gone. “ ‘Do you mean that it disappeared before you went for help?' “ ‘Yes, it was gone.' “ ‘You cannot say what it was?' “ ‘No, I had a feeling something was there.' “ ‘How far from the body?' “ ‘A dozen yards or so.' “ ‘And how far from the edge of the wood?' “ ‘About the same.' “ ‘Then if it was removed it was while you were within a dozen yards of it?' “ ‘Yes, but with my back towards it.' “This concluded the examination of the witness.” “I see,” said I as I glanced down the column, “that the coroner in his concluding remarks was rather severe upon young McCarthy. He calls attention, and with reason, to the discrepancy about his father having signalled to him before seeing him, also to his refusal to give details of his conversation with his father, and his singular account of his father's dying words. They are all, as he remarks, very much against the son.” Holmes laughed softly to himself and stretched himself out upon the cushioned seat. “Both you and the coroner have been at some pains,” said he, “to single out the very strongest points in the young man's favour. Don't you see that you alternately give him credit for having too much imagination and too little? Too little, if he could not invent a cause of quarrel which would give him the sympathy of the jury; too much, if he evolved from his own inner consciousness anything so outr� as a dying reference to a rat, and the incident of the vanishing cloth. No, sir, I shall approach this case from the point of view that what this young man says is true, and we shall see whither that hypothesis will lead us. And now here is my pocket Petrarch, and not another word shall I say of this case until we are on the scene of action. We lunch at Swindon, and I see that we shall be there in twenty minutes.” It was nearly four o'clock when we at last, after passing through the beautiful Stroud Valley, and over the broad gleaming Severn, found ourselves at the pretty little country-town of Ross. A lean, ferret-like man, furtive and sly-looking, was waiting for us upon the platform. In spite of the light brown dustcoat and leather-leggings which he wore in deference to his rustic surroundings, I had no difficulty in recognising Lestrade, of Scotland Yard. With him we drove to the Hereford Arms where a room had already been engaged for us. “I have ordered a carriage,” said Lestrade as we sat over a cup of tea. “I knew your energetic nature, and that you would not be happy until you had been on the scene of the crime.” “It was very nice and complimentary of you,” Holmes answered. “It is entirely a question of barometric pressure.” Lestrade looked startled. “I do not quite follow,” he said. “How is the glass? Twenty-nine, I see. No wind, and not a cloud in the sky. I have a caseful of cigarettes here which need smoking, and the sofa is very much superior to the usual country hotel abomination. I do not think that it is probable that I shall use the carriage to-night.” Lestrade laughed indulgently. “You have, no doubt, already formed your conclusions from the newspapers,” he said. “The case is as plain as a pikestaff, and the more one goes into it the plainer it becomes. Still, of course, one can't refuse a lady, and such a very positive one, too. She has heard of you, and would have your opinion, though I repeatedly told her that there was nothing which you could do which I had not already done. Why, bless my soul! here is her carriage at the door.” He had hardly spoken before there rushed into the room one of the most lovely young women that I have ever seen in my life. Her violet eyes shining, her lips parted, a pink flush upon her cheeks, all thought of her natural reserve lost in her overpowering excitement and concern. “Oh, Mr. Sherlock Holmes!” she cried, glancing from one to the other of us, and finally, with a woman's quick intuition, fastening upon my companion, “I am so glad that you have come. I have driven down to tell you so. I know that James didn't do it. I know it, and I want you to start upon your work knowing it, too. Never let yourself doubt upon that point. We have known each other since we were little children, and I know his faults as no one else does; but he is too tender-hearted to hurt a fly. Such a charge is absurd to anyone who really knows him.” “I hope we may clear him, Miss Turner,” said Sherlock Holmes. “You may rely upon my doing all that I can.” “But you have read the evidence. You have formed some conclusion? Do you not see some loophole, some flaw? Do you not yourself think that he is innocent?” “I think that it is very probable.” “There, now!” she cried, throwing back her head and looking defiantly at Lestrade. “You hear! He gives me hopes.” Lestrade shrugged his shoulders. “I am afraid that my colleague has been a little quick in forming his conclusions,” he said. “But he is right. Oh! I know that he is right. James never did it. And about his quarrel with his father, I am sure that the reason why he would not speak about it to the coroner was because I was concerned in it.” “In what way?” asked Holmes. “It is no time for me to hide anything. James and his father had many disagreements about me. Mr. McCarthy was very anxious that there should be a marriage between us. James and I have always loved each other as brother and sister; but of course he is young and has seen very little of life yet, and—and—well, he naturally did not wish to do anything like that yet. So there were quarrels, and this, I am sure, was one of them.” “And your father?” asked Holmes. “Was he in favour of such a union?” “No, he was averse to it also. No one but Mr. McCarthy was in favour of it.” A quick blush passed over her fresh young face as Holmes shot one of his keen, questioning glances at her. “Thank you for this information,” said he. “May I see your father if I call to-morrow?” “I am afraid the doctor won't allow it.” “The doctor?” “Yes, have you not heard? Poor father has never been strong for years back, but this has broken him down completely. He has taken to his bed, and Dr. Willows says that he is a wreck and that his nervous system is shattered. Mr. McCarthy was the only man alive who had known dad in the old days in Victoria.” “Ha! In Victoria! That is important.” “Yes, at the mines.” “Quite so; at the gold-mines, where, as I understand, Mr. Turner made his money.” “Yes, certainly.” “Thank you, Miss Turner. You have been of material assistance to me.” “You will tell me if you have any news to-morrow. No doubt you will go to the prison to see James. Oh, if you do, Mr. Holmes, do tell him that I know him to be innocent.” “I will, Miss Turner.” “I must go home now, for dad is very ill, and he misses me so if I leave him. Good-bye, and God help you in your undertaking.” She hurried from the room as impulsively as she had entered, and we heard the wheels of her carriage rattle off down the street. “I am ashamed of you, Holmes,” said Lestrade with dignity after a few minutes' silence. “Why should you raise up hopes which you are bound to disappoint? I am not over-tender of heart, but I call it cruel.” “I think that I see my way to clearing James McCarthy,” said Holmes. “Have you an order to see him in prison?” “Yes, but only for you and me.” “Then I shall reconsider my resolution about going out. We have still time to take a train to Hereford and see him to-night?” “Ample.” “Then let us do so. Watson, I fear that you will find it very slow, but I shall only be away a couple of hours.” I walked down to the station with them, and then wandered through the streets of the little town, finally returning to the hotel, where I lay upon the sofa and tried to interest myself in a yellow-backed novel. The puny plot of the story was so thin, however, when compared to the deep mystery through which we were groping, and I found my attention wander so continually from the action to the fact, that I at last flung it across the room and gave myself up entirely to a consideration of the events of the day. Supposing that this unhappy young man's story were absolutely true, then what hellish thing, what absolutely unforeseen and extraordinary calamity could have occurred between the time when he parted from his father, and the moment when, drawn back by his screams, he rushed into the glade? It was something terrible and deadly. What could it be? Might not the nature of the injuries reveal something to my medical instincts? I rang the bell and called for the weekly county paper, which contained a verbatim account of the inquest. In the surgeon's deposition it was stated that the posterior third of the left parietal bone and the left half of the occipital bone had been shattered by a heavy blow from a blunt weapon. I marked the spot upon my own head. Clearly such a blow must have been struck from behind. That was to some extent in favour of the accused, as when seen quarrelling he was face to face with his father. Still, it did not go for very much, for the older man might have turned his back before the blow fell. Still, it might be worth while to call Holmes' attention to it. Then there was the peculiar dying reference to a rat. What could that mean? It could not be delirium. A man dying from a sudden blow does not commonly become delirious. No, it was more likely to be an attempt to explain how he met his fate. But what could it indicate? I cudgelled my brains to find some possible explanation. And then the incident of the grey cloth seen by young McCarthy. If that were true the murderer must have dropped some part of his dress, presumably his overcoat, in his flight, and must have had the hardihood to return and to carry it away at the instant when the son was kneeling with his back turned not a dozen paces off. What a tissue of mysteries and improbabilities the whole thing was! I did not wonder at Lestrade's opinion, and yet I had so much faith in Sherlock Holmes' insight that I could not lose hope as long as every fresh fact seemed to strengthen his conviction of young McCarthy's innocence. It was late before Sherlock Holmes returned. He came back alone, for Lestrade was staying in lodgings in the town. “The glass still keeps very high,” he remarked as he sat down. “It is of importance that it should not rain before we are able to go over the ground. On the other hand, a man should be at his very best and keenest for such nice work as that, and I did not wish to do it when fagged by a long journey. I have seen young McCarthy.” “And what did you learn from him?” “Nothing.” “Could he throw no light?” “None at all. I was inclined to think at one time that he knew who had done it and was screening him or her, but I am convinced now that he is as puzzled as everyone else. He is not a very quick-witted youth, though comely to look at and, I should think, sound at heart.” “I cannot admire his taste,” I remarked, “if it is indeed a fact that he was averse to a marriage with so charming a young lady as this Miss Turner.” “Ah, thereby hangs a rather painful tale. This fellow is madly, insanely, in love with her, but some two years ago, when he was only a lad, and before he really knew her, for she had been away five years at a boarding-school, what does the idiot do but get into the clutches of a barmaid in Bristol and marry her at a registry office? No one knows a word of the matter, but you can imagine how maddening it must be to him to be upbraided for not doing what he would give his very eyes to do, but what he knows to be absolutely impossible. It was sheer frenzy of this sort which made him throw his hands up into the air when his father, at their last interview, was goading him on to propose to Miss Turner. On the other hand, he had no means of supporting himself, and his father, who was by all accounts a very hard man, would have thrown him over utterly had he known the truth. It was with his barmaid wife that he had spent the last three days in Bristol, and his father did not know where he was. Mark that point. It is of importance. Good has come out of evil, however, for the barmaid, finding from the papers that he is in serious trouble and likely to be hanged, has thrown him over utterly and has written to him to say that she has a husband already in the Bermuda Dockyard, so that there is really no tie between them. I think that that bit of news has consoled young McCarthy for all that he has suffered.” “But if he is innocent, who has done it?” “Ah! who? I would call your attention very particularly to two points. One is that the murdered man had an appointment with someone at the pool, and that the someone could not have been his son, for his son was away, and he did not know when he would return. The second is that the murdered man was heard to cry ‘Cooee!' before he knew that his son had returned. Those are the crucial points upon which the case depends. And now let us talk about George Meredith, if you please, and we shall leave all minor matters until to-morrow.” There was no rain, as Holmes had foretold, and the morning broke bright and cloudless. At nine o'clock Lestrade called for us with the carriage, and we set off for Hatherley Farm and the Boscombe Pool. “There is serious news this morning,” Lestrade observed. “It is said that Mr. Turner, of the Hall, is so ill that his life is despaired of.” “An elderly man, I presume?” said Holmes. “About sixty; but his constitution has been shattered by his life abroad, and he has been in failing health for some time. This business has had a very bad effect upon him. He was an old friend of McCarthy's, and, I may add, a great benefactor to him, for I have learned that he gave him Hatherley Farm rent free.” “Indeed! That is interesting,” said Holmes. “Oh, yes! In a hundred other ways he has helped him. Everybody about here speaks of his kindness to him.” “Really! Does it not strike you as a little singular that this McCarthy, who appears to have had little of his own, and to have been under such obligations to Turner, should still talk of marrying his son to Turner's daughter, who is, presumably, heiress to the estate, and that in such a very cocksure manner, as if it were merely a case of a proposal and all else would follow? It is the more strange, since we know that Turner himself was averse to the idea. The daughter told us as much. Do you not deduce something from that?” “We have got to the deductions and the inferences,” said Lestrade, winking at me. “I find it hard enough to tackle facts, Holmes, without flying away after theories and fancies.” “You are right,” said Holmes demurely; “you do find it very hard to tackle the facts.” “Anyhow, I have grasped one fact which you seem to find it difficult to get hold of,” replied Lestrade with some warmth. “And that is—” “That McCarthy senior met his death from McCarthy junior and that all theories to the contrary are the merest moonshine.” “Well, moonshine is a brighter thing than fog,” said Holmes, laughing. “But I am very much mistaken if this is not Hatherley Farm upon the left.” “Yes, that is it.” It was a widespread, comfortable-looking building, two-storied, slate-roofed, with great yellow blotches of lichen upon the grey walls. The drawn blinds and the smokeless chimneys, however, gave it a stricken look, as though the weight of this horror still lay heavy upon it. We called at the door, when the maid, at Holmes' request, showed us the boots which her master wore at the time of his death, and also a pair of the son's, though not the pair which he had then had. Having measured these very carefully from seven or eight different points, Holmes desired to be led to the court-yard, from which we all followed the winding track which led to Boscombe Pool. Sherlock Holmes was transformed when he was hot upon such a scent as this. Men who had only known the quiet thinker and logician of Baker Street would have failed to recognise him. His face flushed and darkened. His brows were drawn into two hard black lines, while his eyes shone out from beneath them with a steely glitter. His face was bent downward, his shoulders bowed, his lips compressed, and the veins stood out like whipcord in his long, sinewy neck. His nostrils seemed to dilate with a purely animal lust for the chase, and his mind was so absolutely concentrated upon the matter before him that a question or remark fell unheeded upon his ears, or, at the most, only provoked a quick, impatient snarl in reply. Swiftly and silently he made his way along the track which ran through the meadows, and so by way of the woods to the Boscombe Pool. It was damp, marshy ground, as is all that district, and there were marks of many feet, both upon the path and amid the short grass which bounded it on either side. Sometimes Holmes would hurry on, sometimes stop dead, and once he made quite a little detour into the meadow. Lestrade and I walked behind him, the detective indifferent and contemptuous, while I watched my friend with the interest which sprang from the conviction that every one of his actions was directed towards a definite end. The Boscombe Pool, which is a little reed-girt sheet of water some fifty yards across, is situated at the boundary between the Hatherley Farm and the private park of the wealthy Mr. Turner. Above the woods which lined it upon the farther side we could see the red, jutting pinnacles which marked the site of the rich landowner's dwelling. On the Hatherley side of the pool the woods grew very thick, and there was a narrow belt of sodden grass twenty paces across between the edge of the trees and the reeds which lined the lake. Lestrade showed us the exact spot at which the body had been found, and, indeed, so moist was the ground, that I could plainly see the traces which had been left by the fall of the stricken man. To Holmes, as I could see by his eager face and peering eyes, very many other things were to be read upon the trampled grass. He ran round, like a dog who is picking up a scent, and then turned upon my companion. “What did you go into the pool for?” he asked. “I fished about with a rake. I thought there might be some weapon or other trace. But how on earth—” “Oh, tut, tut! I have no time! That left foot of yours with its inward twist is all over the place. A mole could trace it, and there it vanishes among the reeds. Oh, how simple it would all have been had I been here before they came like a herd of buffalo and wallowed all over it. Here is where the party with the lodge-keeper came, and they have covered all tracks for six or eight feet round the body. But here are three separate tracks of the same feet.” He drew out a lens and lay down upon his waterproof to have a better view, talking all the time rather to himself than to us. “These are young McCarthy's feet. Twice he was walking, and once he ran swiftly, so that the soles are deeply marked and the heels hardly visible. That bears out his story. He ran when he saw his father on the ground. Then here are the father's feet as he paced up and down. What is this, then? It is the butt-end of the gun as the son stood listening. And this? Ha, ha! What have we here? Tiptoes! tiptoes! Square, too, quite unusual boots! They come, they go, they come again—of course that was for the cloak. Now where did they come from?” He ran up and down, sometimes losing, sometimes finding the track until we were well within the edge of the wood and under the shadow of a great beech, the largest tree in the neighbourhood. Holmes traced his way to the farther side of this and lay down once more upon his face with a little cry of satisfaction. For a long time he remained there, turning over the leaves and dried sticks, gathering up what seemed to me to be dust into an envelope and examining with his lens not only the ground but even the bark of the tree as far as he could reach. A jagged stone was lying among the moss, and this also he carefully examined and retained. Then he followed a pathway through the wood until he came to the highroad, where all traces were lost. “It has been a case of considerable interest,” he remarked, returning to his natural manner. “I fancy that this grey house on the right must be the lodge. I think that I will go in and have a word with Moran, and perhaps write a little note. Having done that, we may drive back to our luncheon. You may walk to the cab, and I shall be with you presently.” It was about ten minutes before we regained our cab and drove back into Ross, Holmes still carrying with him the stone which he had picked up in the wood. “This may interest you, Lestrade,” he remarked, holding it out. “The murder was done with it.” “I see no marks.” “There are none.” “How do you know, then?” “The grass was growing under it. It had only lain there a few days. There was no sign of a place whence it had been taken. It corresponds with the injuries. There is no sign of any other weapon.” “And the murderer?” “Is a tall man, left-handed, limps with the right leg, wears thick-soled shooting-boots and a grey cloak, smokes Indian cigars, uses a cigar-holder, and carries a blunt pen-knife in his pocket. There are several other indications, but these may be enough to aid us in our search.” Lestrade laughed. “I am afraid that I am still a sceptic,” he said. “Theories are all very well, but we have to deal with a hard-headed British jury.” “Nous verrons,” answered Holmes calmly. “You work your own method, and I shall work mine. I shall be busy this afternoon, and shall probably return to London by the evening train.” “And leave your case unfinished?” “No, finished.” “But the mystery?” “It is solved.” “Who was the criminal, then?” “The gentleman I describe.” “But who is he?” “Surely it would not be difficult to find out. This is not such a populous neighbourhood.” Lestrade shrugged his shoulders. “I am a practical man,” he said, “and I really cannot undertake to go about the country looking for a left-handed gentleman with a game leg. I should become the laughing-stock of Scotland Yard.” “All right,” said Holmes quietly. “I have given you the chance. Here are your lodgings. Good-bye. I shall drop you a line before I leave.” Having left Lestrade at his rooms, we drove to our hotel, where we found lunch upon the table. Holmes was silent and buried in thought with a pained expression upon his face, as one who finds himself in a perplexing position. “Look here, Watson,” he said when the cloth was cleared “just sit down in this chair and let me preach to you for a little. I don't know quite what to do, and I should value your advice. Light a cigar and let me expound.” “Pray do so.” “Well, now, in considering this case there are two points about young McCarthy's narrative which struck us both instantly, although they impressed me in his favour and you against him. One was the fact that his father should, according to his account, cry ‘Cooee!' before seeing him. The other was his singular dying reference to a rat. He mumbled several words, you understand, but that was all that caught the son's ear. Now from this double point our research must commence, and we will begin it by presuming that what the lad says is absolutely true.” “What of this ‘Cooee!' then?” “Well, obviously it could not have been meant for the son. The son, as far as he knew, was in Bristol. It was mere chance that he was within earshot. The ‘Cooee!' was meant to attract the attention of whoever it was that he had the appointment with. But ‘Cooee' is a distinctly Australian cry, and one which is used between Australians. There is a strong presumption that the person whom McCarthy expected to meet him at Boscombe Pool was someone who had been in Australia.” “What of the rat, then?” Sherlock Holmes took a folded paper from his pocket and flattened it out on the table. “This is a map of the Colony of Victoria,” he said. “I wired to Bristol for it last night.” He put his hand over part of the map. “What do you read?” “ARAT,” I read. “And now?” He raised his hand. “BALLARAT.” “Quite so. That was the word the man uttered, and of which his son only caught the last two syllables. He was trying to utter the name of his murderer. So and so, of Ballarat.” “It is wonderful!” I exclaimed. “It is obvious. And now, you see, I had narrowed the field down considerably. The possession of a grey garment was a third point which, granting the son's statement to be correct, was a certainty. We have come now out of mere vagueness to the definite conception of an Australian from Ballarat with a grey cloak.” “Certainly.” “And one who was at home in the district, for the pool can only be approached by the farm or by the estate, where strangers could hardly wander.” “Quite so.” “Then comes our expedition of to-day. By an examination of the ground I gained the trifling details which I gave to that imbecile Lestrade, as to the personality of the criminal.” “But how did you gain them?” “You know my method. It is founded upon the observation of trifles.” “His height I know that you might roughly judge from the length of his stride. His boots, too, might be told from their traces.” “Yes, they were peculiar boots.” “But his lameness?” “The impression of his right foot was always less distinct than his left. He put less weight upon it. Why? Because he limped—he was lame.” “But his left-handedness.” “You were yourself struck by the nature of the injury as recorded by the surgeon at the inquest. The blow was struck from immediately behind, and yet was upon the left side. Now, how can that be unless it were by a left-handed man? He had stood behind that tree during the interview between the father and son. He had even smoked there. I found the ash of a cigar, which my special knowledge of tobacco ashes enables me to pronounce as an Indian cigar. I have, as you know, devoted some attention to this, and written a little monograph on the ashes of 140 different varieties of pipe, cigar, and cigarette tobacco. Having found the ash, I then looked round and discovered the stump among the moss where he had tossed it. It was an Indian cigar, of the variety which are rolled in Rotterdam.” “And the cigar-holder?” “I could see that the end had not been in his mouth. Therefore he used a holder. The tip had been cut off, not bitten off, but the cut was not a clean one, so I deduced a blunt pen-knife.” “Holmes,” I said, “you have drawn a net round this man from which he cannot escape, and you have saved an innocent human life as truly as if you had cut the cord which was hanging him. I see the direction in which all this points. The culprit is—” “Mr. John Turner,” cried the hotel waiter, opening the door of our sitting-room, and ushering in a visitor. The man who entered was a strange and impressive figure. His slow, limping step and bowed shoulders gave the appearance of decrepitude, and yet his hard, deep-lined, craggy features, and his enormous limbs showed that he was possessed of unusual strength of body and of character. His tangled beard, grizzled hair, and outstanding, drooping eyebrows combined to give an air of dignity and power to his appearance, but his face was of an ashen white, while his lips and the corners of his nostrils were tinged with a shade of blue. It was clear to me at a glance that he was in the grip of some deadly and chronic disease. “Pray sit down on the sofa,” said Holmes gently. “You had my note?” “Yes, the lodge-keeper brought it up. You said that you wished to see me here to avoid scandal.” “I thought people would talk if I went to the Hall.” “And why did you wish to see me?” He looked across at my companion with despair in his weary eyes, as though his question was already answered. “Yes,” said Holmes, answering the look rather than the words. “It is so. I know all about McCarthy.” The old man sank his face in his hands. “God help me!” he cried. “But I would not have let the young man come to harm. I give you my word that I would have spoken out if it went against him at the Assizes.” “I am glad to hear you say so,” said Holmes gravely. “I would have spoken now had it not been for my dear girl. It would break her heart—it will break her heart when she hears that I am arrested.” “It may not come to that,” said Holmes. “What?” “I am no official agent. I understand that it was your daughter who required my presence here, and I am acting in her interests. Young McCarthy must be got off, however.” “I am a dying man,” said old Turner. “I have had diabetes for years. My doctor says it is a question whether I shall live a month. Yet I would rather die under my own roof than in a gaol.” Holmes rose and sat down at the table with his pen in his hand and a bundle of paper before him. “Just tell us the truth,” he said. “I shall jot down the facts. You will sign it, and Watson here can witness it. Then I could produce your confession at the last extremity to save young McCarthy. I promise you that I shall not use it unless it is absolutely needed.” “It's as well,” said the old man; “it's a question whether I shall live to the Assizes, so it matters little to me, but I should wish to spare Alice the shock. And now I will make the thing clear to you; it has been a long time in the acting, but will not take me long to tell. “You didn't know this dead man, McCarthy. He was a devil incarnate. I tell you that. God keep you out of the clutches of such a man as he. His grip has been upon me these twenty years, and he has blasted my life. I'll tell you first how I came to be in his power. “It was in the early '60's at the diggings. I was a young chap then, hot-blooded and reckless, ready to turn my hand at anything; I got among bad companions, took to drink, had no luck with my claim, took to the bush, and in a word became what you would call over here a highway robber. There were six of us, and we had a wild, free life of it, sticking up a station from time to time, or stopping the wagons on the road to the diggings. Black Jack of Ballarat was the name I went under, and our party is still remembered in the colony as the Ballarat Gang. “One day a gold convoy came down from Ballarat to Melbourne, and we lay in wait for it and attacked it. There were six troopers and six of us, so it was a close thing, but we emptied four of their saddles at the first volley. Three of our boys were killed, however, before we got the swag. I put my pistol to the head of the wagon-driver, who was this very man McCarthy. I wish to the Lord that I had shot him then, but I spared him, though I saw his wicked little eyes fixed on my face, as though to remember every feature. We got away with the gold, became wealthy men, and made our way over to England without being suspected. There I parted from my old pals and determined to settle down to a quiet and respectable life. I bought this estate, which chanced to be in the market, and I set myself to do a little good with my money, to make up for the way in which I had earned it. I married, too, and though my wife died young she left me my dear little Alice. Even when she was just a baby her wee hand seemed to lead me down the right path as nothing else had ever done. In a word, I turned over a new leaf and did my best to make up for the past. All was going well when McCarthy laid his grip upon me. “I had gone up to town about an investment, and I met him in Regent Street with hardly a coat to his back or a boot to his foot. “ ‘Here we are, Jack,' says he, touching me on the arm; ‘we'll be as good as a family to you. There's two of us, me and my son, and you can have the keeping of us. If you don't—it's a fine, law-abiding country is England, and there's always a policeman within hail.' “Well, down they came to the west country, there was no shaking them off, and there they have lived rent free on my best land ever since. There was no rest for me, no peace, no forgetfulness; turn where I would, there was his cunning, grinning face at my elbow. It grew worse as Alice grew up, for he soon saw I was more afraid of her knowing my past than of the police. Whatever he wanted he must have, and whatever it was I gave him without question, land, money, houses, until at last he asked a thing which I could not give. He asked for Alice. “His son, you see, had grown up, and so had my girl, and as I was known to be in weak health, it seemed a fine stroke to him that his lad should step into the whole property. But there I was firm. I would not have his cursed stock mixed with mine; not that I had any dislike to the lad, but his blood was in him, and that was enough. I stood firm. McCarthy threatened. I braved him to do his worst. We were to meet at the pool midway between our houses to talk it over. “When I went down there I found him talking with his son, so I smoked a cigar and waited behind a tree until he should be alone. But as I listened to his talk all that was black and bitter in me seemed to come uppermost. He was urging his son to marry my daughter with as little regard for what she might think as if she were a slut from off the streets. It drove me mad to think that I and all that I held most dear should be in the power of such a man as this. Could I not snap the bond? I was already a dying and a desperate man. Though clear of mind and fairly strong of limb, I knew that my own fate was sealed. But my memory and my girl! Both could be saved if I could but silence that foul tongue. I did it, Mr. Holmes. I would do it again. Deeply as I have sinned, I have led a life of martyrdom to atone for it. But that my girl should be entangled in the same meshes which held me was more than I could suffer. I struck him down with no more compunction than if he had been some foul and venomous beast. His cry brought back his son; but I had gained the cover of the wood, though I was forced to go back to fetch the cloak which I had dropped in my flight. That is the true story, gentlemen, of all that occurred.” “Well, it is not for me to judge you,” said Holmes as the old man signed the statement which had been drawn out. “I pray that we may never be exposed to such a temptation.” “I pray not, sir. And what do you intend to do?” “In view of your health, nothing. You are yourself aware that you will soon have to answer for your deed at a higher court than the Assizes. I will keep your confession, and if McCarthy is condemned I shall be forced to use it. If not, it shall never be seen by mortal eye; and your secret, whether you be alive or dead, shall be safe with us.” “Farewell, then,” said the old man solemnly. “Your own deathbeds, when they come, will be the easier for the thought of the peace which you have given to mine.” Tottering and shaking in all his giant frame, he stumbled slowly from the room. “God help us!” said Holmes after a long silence. “Why does fate play such tricks with poor, helpless worms? I never hear of such a case as this that I do not think of Baxter's words, and say, ‘There, but for the grace of God, goes Sherlock Holmes.' ” James McCarthy was acquitted at the Assizes on the strength of a number of objections which had been drawn out by Holmes and submitted to the defending counsel. Old Turner lived for seven months after our interview, but he is now dead; and there is every prospect that the son and daughter may come to live happily together in ignorance of the black cloud which rests upon their past.  

En route home from Paris, Emilio Mula and Rob Hopkins paused at Paddington Station. While there, Emilio asked Rob for his thoughts on his time in Paris. Here's the conversation they had.

Paddington - (2014) A young Peruvian bear travels to London in search of a home. Finding himself lost and alone at Paddington Station, he meets the kindly Brown family, who offer him a temporary haven.

Paddington - (2014) A young Peruvian bear travels to London in search of a home. Finding himself lost and alone at Paddington Station, he meets the kindly Brown family, who offer him a temporary haven.

This was one of the few broadcasts to originate from a train. I was on my way back from London after meeting Richard Astbury, of British Forces Broadcasting Service based at that time in studios next to Paddington Station. He explained why they had started shortwave broacasts to Saudi Arabia and the rest of the Gulf. Andy Sennitt was trying to get a FIDO bulletin board working in Amsterdam and a company in Bussum wanted to use broadcast networks in Holland for scrambled distribution of programmes in the middle of the night. Bert Steinkamp and Andrew Taussig explain what international broadcasters are trying to do to improve coverage of their own continent. Trevor Brook of Surrey Electronics has critical remarks about Dynamic Amplitude Modulation. 

Ordinary people believe only in the possible. Extraordinary people visualize not what is possible or probable, but rather what is impossible. And by visualizing the impossible, they begin to see it as possible. After finishing fourth, just out of medal contention in the 1500 meters of the 1952 Olympics, British track athlete Roger Bannister set a new goal. A goal that according to many was not only lofty, but humanly impossible. But instead of giving up, Bannister set out to do something that no one had done before.  He trained, prepared, and sacrificed. One day, on May 6, 1954, to be exact, Bannister took the train from Paddington Station to Oxford where he was going to try and break the 4-minute barrier.    In a more recent years, no one thought that a 6'5" lanky sprinter could ever be a true Olympic competitor (sprinters are naturally short and stocky). But although he didn't fit the typical sprinter build, Jamaican Usain Bolt set his mind on being an Olympic Champion at a young age. And in the 2008 Olympic games in Beijing, Usain Bolt not only accomplished his dream of winning Olympic gold, but he did it while completely annihilating world records in both the 100 and 200 meters. And again he reigned #1 in 2012. Are self-limiting beliefs holding YOU back from achieving your best? Or even going after your best? Don't let it happen. You're better than that. You're BIGGER than that. And you can achieve more. We KNOW this is true for you, and we believe in you. Now it's your turn to believe in yourself. Today marks the day where you start thinking like Roger Bannister and Usain Bolt. You are in control. People who should listen to this show are solopreneurs, entrepreneurs, career & executive coaches

Part of the Marshfield Energy Project. Two friends reminisce about their time in the Land Army.

3:30 to 6:30pm. "Captain Cosmos" (Garry) who is station announcer at Paddington station phones in from work for a chat with Bob and makes a live announcement about Thameside Radio to the whole station. Andrew calls from St Ursula Road in Southall where they are having a street party while listening to Thameside. He asks for "Win a Night Out With a Well Known Paranoiac" which is still one of my favourite songs. Ever. (Yes I do have a copy and, before you ask, the answer is "yes you can" - just leave a comment or drop me an email). The surprise after the fast food survey was a listeners trip to Hyde Park to see the fireworks. There's a clip in Alex's show. Name checks include: Ian Hobbs, Andrew Beck, Anne Sergeant, Max Hamster and Paul Gander.