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TORONTO, CALIFORNIA -- I am writing this review here as a warning to future customers walking into a Starbucks store managed by ** (previously at Store# 4350: 20 William Kitchen Rd, Scarborough, ON, M1P 5B7) to be cautious of him and his employees (e.g. Starbucks shift supervisor, **) based on the following incidents:
Starbucks should not allow their managers to make careless comments that can easily be misconstrued by customers. Perhaps it is Starbucks' culture to be 'laid-back' but it should never be acceptable for a male manager to say "Wow!" to a female customer upon first impression (particularly since nothing warrants this type of attention just for walking into a coffee shop in everyday wear).
If female customers walking into Starbucks LIKE this type of attention from him, he should be reserving this type of 'special treatment' for them and ONLY THEM. Otherwise, it is NOT a compliment and it is NOT customer service. Under any other circumstances in any other company that provides customer service, this type of incident would NOT be tolerated towards customers (female or otherwise) at all.
A Starbucks store has a manager in place to manage a store and part of that includes listening to customers' feedback regarding their experiences. While most managers understand the nature of their job entails interacting with customers, this Starbucks manager has not only refused to acknowledge a customer when he/she has a legitimate complaint, he has also deliberately disrespected the customer's wishes to not be subjected to further harassment from the entire staff (including the manager himself).
AND they have also continued the same harassing technique and taken it even further upon themselves to personally retaliate against the customer for not wanting anything more to do with this. In this case, a manager at this store who refuses to handle customer service situations is not needed – Please remember to take down his name and the name(s) of his employee(s) involved in the incidents and report to the District Manager/Corporate Headquarters IMMEDIATELY.
Starbucks should not be offering food samples if they cannot stand the thought of customers eating a small piece of food for free. This manager thought I was eating his food for free despite being passed to EVERYONE ELSE in the store – the reason being because I mentioned it in a feedback letter to compliment him. Instead, he took the same feedback letter and eagerly ran off to show HIS own manager for praise and then turned around and accused me of eating his food for free.
In the event of not knowing how to provide customer service, disrupting customers' routines is not the answer. Instead of leaving customers alone and managing the store, this manager would INTENTIONALLY GO OUT OF HIS WAY to purposely antagonize customers by pulling pranks to incite a reaction (and then laughing uproariously afterwards) and making customers do things for him, thereby deliberating making them angry.
He would even TEACH these tactics to his employees and then pat himself on the back for successfully angering/harassing a customer. Customers are not there for you to prank around – we want nothing to do with the Starbucks games. If Starbucks managers feel there isn't enough to do on a daily basis, they need to ask THEIR OWN MANAGER on what else can be done.
Managers should not force customers to write feedback letters for their own promotional use to look good in front of his/her company. Customers should reserve the right to provide positive feedback on their own (Starbucks' famous 'word-of-advertising' method), but not at the manager's request for one in order to make him/herself look good before his own company.
Sending the same employee to continually harass me (e.g. the service level will decrease until you do this for us) until I was forced to falsify a positive feedback letter for the employee should not be tolerated by the company. By doing this, Starbucks has lost credibility under this manager's doing because all 'positive' things said about the company are generated falsely.
Managers/baristas who engage in 'establishing rapport' have a responsibility on their part. Customers who walk into Starbucks are not looking for assistance nor are they looking to gain anything from Starbucks – they are simply there to make a purchase and mind their own business.
However, when managers/baristas are looking to establish a rapport and interact with customers, it is important to keep in mind that this rapport means you DO NOT prank the customer around over and over again. This manager has not only allowed his employee(s) to conduct 'customer service' in ANY manner possible, but has also made it acceptable for even the shift supervisor in charge to also conduct her own 'pranks' and to follow customers outside of the store.
Managers/baristas should not trespass the boundary into their customers' personal lives. Not only is this a severe breach of privacy and respect on the company's part, it is also completely unwarranted and has nothing to do with providing customer service. A coffee shop is a place to relax and enjoy your own affairs and interaction with other patrons, not to have a manager/barista continually steal information from you or pry into customers' private, personal details when customers do not wish to disclose them. It should not be a requirement for Starbucks employees to be involved in customers' personal lives at all.
If Starbucks employees are unsure on how to do their jobs, they need to be re-trained. For some reason, despite Starbucks providing training for their baristas, they still manage to be incompetent at their jobs and this manager has not even bothered ensuring that baristas are following Starbucks' regulations.
As a result, it has become the customer's responsibility to deal with each and every Starbucks barista and the shift supervisor for not knowing how to provide customer service. If Starbucks employees (including managers) feel they are overworked or unhappy or do not want to provide a service anymore, they should take this up directly with their own manager and not out on the customer.
Managers should be wary of using the 'Making a Connection' as a sales tactic. This manager did not want customers engaging in 'hellos' and small talk with him yet he would force customers to accept the outrageous customer service tactics bestowed upon customers, such as touching, inappropriate comments, unnecessarily 'helping out' and then having the same Starbucks employee glare at the customer when he/she approaches the same employee, small talk that goes nowhere, insincere hellos, prying into customers' personal details, and so forth.
The whole scheme was very manipulative and insincere. Their idea of a 'customer connection' was to pretend to like the customer first before hitting him/her with a sales tactic and then giving the cold, degrading treatment for not complying with them from then on. When a manager's intention of 'making a connection' is only focused on sales instead of customer service, he/she should not be surprised when customer service standards immensely fail with the result of a customer filing a complaint to Starbucks' Corporate Headquarters in the end.
GRESHAM, OREGON -- On Thursday December 04, 2013 at approximately 5:45 PM I stopped off at the Starbucks 2233 NE Burnside Rd
Gresham Oregon (503) 465-8091 to purchase hot chocolate for my neighbor's son. This Starbucks is located in the Oregon Trails Shopping Center. My complaint involves a lack of trust and integrity at Starbucks. Is free stuff good?
Review this scenario: I purchased some hot chocolate for my six-year old friend. I was wearing new black ski gloves. I removed the ski gloves and placed them on the counter so I could pay for the purchase. After I paid I left the black ski gloves on the counter. I sat down and waited for the young man to finish his chocolate and left.
Review his behavior: When I left the cashier he did not yell out, "Hey Mister you forgot your new black ski gloves on the counter!". When customers leave their hats, gloves or wallets on their counter that does not automatically mean that Starbucks employees have free hats and gloves. Many of you are wondering why the cashier did not point out the gloves to the customer. Maybe the cashier thought my gloves were a Christmas tip. Here is a hot tip: customers expect great product and service. Customers should not have to bribe the staff with tips or gifts to get what they originally paid for.
Review their attitude: I went back twice immediately after the incident and on Sunday December 08, 2013 at 7:45 AM. I spoke to a shift leader who refused to provide her name or the name of the manager. She was a short petite brunette very young in age. She wore a smirk when I discussed the black ski gloves. The confirmatory smirk indicates prior knowledge. This information is provided to assist Starbucks corporate in identifying the individuals.
Review Starbucks' trust, integrity and lack of honesty: There are several problems with this transaction all revolving around trust and a lack of integrity. When the cashier allows the customer to walk away obviously leaving their property on the counter salivating at the free stuff this is a blatant lack of trust and integrity. When the so-called shift supervisor/leader refuses to identify herself or provide the contact information for the manager this once again demonstrates a complete lack of trust and integrity. Do I trust Starbucks? Starbucks employees that help themselves to customers property should never be allowed around any cash register.
"Free is good" is bad if it's the customer's property. My complaint is Starbucks' convenient absence of a lost and found for customers property speaks volumes about Starbucks' lack of integrity. I strongly recommend that if you insist on doing business with Starbucks you count your fingers after you shake hands.
By the way the Starbucks hot chocolate turned out to be mostly foam. Starbucks hot chocolate Is seriously overpriced at $1.50. I asked the young man if he enjoyed it and he apparently did not. I am not a coffee or food critic but small children tend to be very honest and sincere so this is a very honest and sincere review. Too young to know how to lie young children often favor the simple truth.
Curiously I posted this on Google reviews no fewer than three times on the morning of Sunday December 08, 2013. Apparently the censors at Google objected to the truth and censored this review. Advertising dollars from www.starbucks.com have a way of influencing the truth. I do not appreciate internet censorship by Google. Censorship is a very serious first amendment violation and interferes with the public's right to know the whole truth.
NEW YORK, NEW YORK -- Well, Very simple - I have noticed that Starbucks is posting a 'bathroom is not working' sign. "Please accept our apologies. We are working to get it fix." Well that is simple - not true. Employees are using the bathrooms all the time. It's happening all over the city. What I don't understand is why they give space and electricity for the client that stay all day using the space for one coffee. When you need to sit everything is occupied. Now no bathrooms no seat. This is crazy. They are getting very unreasonable with their policies. Please give the bathrooms and the space back to their clients.
MIDLAND, TEXAS -- The manager at this store is so rude, and the customers that go here are dumb. They love to get in line from the loop, and if God forbid you enter the parking lot from another entrance, you will get your ** chewed for cutting in line. So of course the logical thing to do is circle the loop, come around on the access road, and stop there so you can block traffic and get rear-ended.
Whatever you do don't attempt to use your brain and use another entrance or circle the parking lot. Unless you love getting chewed out like a small child for "cutting" by an idiot minimum wage employee who can barely speak English. I love Starbucks and go there all the time, but they just lost a loyal customer.
LAKE ELSINORE, CALIFORNIA -- As I go normally twice a week in the morning around 6:30 there has hardly ever been a problem except for this one time. I ordered a tall iced green tea with light ice and blueberry oatmeal. As I get my drink I noticed that it's 3/4 full. I decided not to tell them about it but then as I get my blueberry oatmeal I notice in the bag all they had was the blueberries and a spoon. The item comes with other toppings as well.
I ask the cashier and she ignores me the first time and then finally answers by saying we ran out. I wouldn't have bought the blueberry oatmeal in the first place paying full price for plain oatmeal. Along with the bad customer service I didn't get the breakfast I was looking forward to and am very disappointed.
PASADENA, CALIFORNIA -- A few minutes ago a thief walked off with my tablet PC from inside a small Starbucks with 4 security cameras. The store employees refused to help. They declined to call the police. They declined to review the security camera footage. They declined to be helpful in any way, shape, form or fashion. This is this what their company calls RESPONSIBILITY.
The store manager - eventually, reluctantly - allowed me to call the police while he filled out a one-page form (for corporate use) and would not even give me a copy of it. A quick Google search tells me that this is an ongoing concern, but Starbucks will not even post warning signs for their customers because this might "spoil" their experience.
DUNKIRK, MARYLAND -- I ordered a Grande iced tea at the Dunkirk, MD, Starbucks and indicated I wanted just the tea in one cup and a cup of ice in another. Employee proceeds to hand me a cup one-third full of tea! I asked her to please fill it up, and she said: "Then you will be getting two teas for the price of one." First of all, Starbucks prices are totally out of control. Second of all, since when does the consumer only get one-third quantity of the full amount paid for?
The truth is, Starbucks makes big bucks at your expense by adding a full cup of ice and one-third cup of beverage. The same holds true for some of the coffees where the cup contains mostly foam instead of coffee. It really Starsucks, if you know what I mean.
WHITTIER BLVD. BY COMMERCE THEATER, CALIFORNIA -- I Went to Starbucks, and all I ordered was a Caramel Frappucino. 4-5 people were in line after me and when they ordered their drinks theirs came before mine. I had to wait 15 minutes for one drink and the workers seemed to not care. They were all dozed off and talking to each other. When I went up to tell the guy "What happened to my drink?", All he had to say was "oh sorry I forgot". It was horrible and that worker should be fired. I wanted to speak to the manager but no surprise the manager wasn't there.
And when I asked for my money back the guy took at least 3 minutes just going into the cash register. He had to call someone else to open it. They didn't offer any gift card, free drink, coupon or anything like that! All they said was sorry. I RECOMMEND NO ONE GO THERE. HORRIBLE, BAD, JUST AWFUL SERVICE.
I recently left Starbucks after 3 years of employment. Starbucks used to be a great company to work for, but now with the changes, it's not so great. It's modern day slavery. If you feel like you're waiting for your drink longer, and when you get it, it's not correct, well, you're probably not crazy! That's exactly what's happening.
We are instructed to be more "task-focused" and less "customer-focused". What that means is, the stores are now short-staffed to save money, but with the changes such as the breakfast sandwiches and the new (less tasty) frappuccino recipe (to compete with McDonalds' new frappe) the employees are put in a position to work faster and harder.
We also have follow QASA standards (QASA is the Starbucks 'more elite' version of the health department) and their standards of cleanliness are understandable. However, the time in which we are expected to tend to them are unrealistic. For example, before we hand a drink out, we have to wash the milk pitcher and wipe the steam wands. If we open a carton of soy milk or lemonade, we have to write the QASA standard expiration date immediately. We are instructed to tend to those things before tending to the customers' needs. Back to being short-staffed: yes, there usually is one person on the bar making drinks and we have to rely on the person at the register to properly mark the cup as well - the customer knowing how to properly order their drink. This "simple" process becomes complicated when products and samples are being pushed on the customer who is ordering.
So many times, the person on bar gets the incorrect cup marking due to the initial distractions at the register. That combined with a large volume of drinks with no help (as the people available to help are now making sandwiches) and abusive customers complaining that we're stupid and we made their drink wrong, well, it's no wonder many of you aren't getting the service you deserve. On top of this, we lost our personal days, the health benefits are more expensive and we get less for our money, we get MINIMAL breaks - yet we're on our feet all day AND working much harder.
We don't get commissions or bonuses for sales, we don't get sick days when we call out sick, it's hard to get the shift covered due to company-wide understaffing and partners simply not wanting to work anymore - so many times, we work when we are sick. Upper management is permitted to be condescending to store employees - essentially, we're spoken to like we're retarded first graders. We contribute a great deal to the success of the company, yet we don't get respect and we don't get acknowledgement. So yes, general morale is WAAAAAAAAY down and it does make a difference.
So, the next time you get your drink and it's been made incorrectly, please don't blame the person making your drinks. We're stressed enough from the unrealistic changes being made in the company. Instead, observe what is going on at the register. Are you being distracted to try the "new" exciting, life-changing, drink or pastry? Are you being asked to try Via (for the millionth time) or a Starbucks version of the egg McMuffin? Is the person on bar alone and flooded with drinks? Are there abusive customers, QASA standards being tended to and no help with any of it?
If you notice any of this, complain to the manager then complain to corporate. They need to hear these things. Whatever you do, please don't abuse your barista. Have some respect. Remember that your barista isn't "stuck" at Starbucks because it's the best they can do. They are there because they are in college, or are working towards their career goals and need a job that allows time flexibility and part-time benefits. They're not stupid, and if you piss them off, they have the power to give you sugar-free syrup, decaf shots, expired shots (espresso that sits longer than 19 seconds - they literally taste like poo), breve (that's half and half) when you ask for soy.
They have the power to, in turn, ruin your day by giving you a lousy drink. So open your eyes and see that these employees truly are doing the best they can and are very worn out by Howard Shutlz' (that's the ONE man who owns all Starbucks - they're NOT a franchise) desperate decisions on how to run such a large company with no regulations on how to treat the employees. Use your power of Customer Voice to complain to someone who CAN make things better or stop going to Starbucks all together and make sure you let corporate know why.
You deserve a positive experience and it begins with happy employees. You can help make that change. 1-800-starbuc or 1-800-23-latte You can also fill out the survey when it's given to you. Please be honest about your experience, those surveys are seen by corporate.
I hate customers. There are a lot of things people have experienced at their local Starbucks which disappoints them. Indeed, I too have had that kind of experience at mine in Toronto, but overall that doesn't outweigh the good. People like to complain too much. Sure it's not too much to ask for a drink to be remade, or for something small. However, most customers like to fly off the handle over the most trivial ** and it drives me insane.
For an example, the person complaining about an exchange/refund for the coffee mug. Listen, I've worked retail, and on EVERY SINGLE RECEIPT printed out there is information about what you need to return or exchange that product. YOU HAD BEEN WARNED. But, you'd prefer to waste your time, and theirs to argue against this rule. The rule is there for a reason, and even if to you it's not a good one, it's still there. You neglected to acknowledge that fact, so that's your own damn fault. If you lost the receipt, or failed to ask for one, yes, sorry I do not sympathize. It's your fault.
To the person complaining about a little bit of whip cream falling over the side of a cup, listen, really? It happens. It just does. It's not easy to pour those drinks precisely 100% of the time. So deal with it! If not, kindly ask them to remove it, without being a baby and making such a big fuss over nothing. There is a stack of napkins right next to you. Pick one up, wipe it off, stop being such a baby. To the person who complained about waiting a bit to get a drink before having to rush to work: If I had to rush to work, do you really think I would stop at Starbucks? Absolutely not. I'm smarter than that.
It gets busy, and if I can't be guaranteed to grab my drink in less than a minute, I'm not going. Period. Change your routine, get over it. And even if they were talking to each other, oh well. Maybe you caught them at a bad time. Take your business somewhere else. Or here's a thought! Make your own coffee? Or wait, but then you can't stroll into work with your status-written Starbucks cup in your hand that says you're a sophisticated, mature individual. My mistake.
To the person with the racist barista: your story sounds so unclear. It sounds made up. Maybe you had nothing better to do with your time. If she was actually a racist, I sympathize. But in all honesty, get it in your head that racism exists. You'll never change those racists' perspectives, ever. I'm not saying to be passive, but it's Starbucks. It's not worth it. She'll get hers.
To the people having difficulty working at Starbucks or who hated the experience or the hiring process or whatever. Seriously, you're stupid. Before you apply to a job, you should do some research on it, and all of these negative reviews from Starbucks' employees on the web should have saved you from that experience. Doesn't that just suck? Suck it up, it's your own damn fault.
To the people saying that they will not go to Starbucks ever again, and refuse to spend their hard-earned 3 (give or take 1) dollars on a cup of coffee: Do you really think that your business is all that important? If that's the case, you need to get your head in check, lose the narcissism and get over yourself. You're just ONE customer, and yes there are like-minded individuals who share your view, it's really nothing compared to the billions of people EVERYDAY grabbing something from Starbucks. Listen. I hate to bash on people, really I do.
As a waitress (who does go to Starbucks occasionally) I have learned to appreciate people...until they become customers, until they become so self-obsessed. I'm not saying that you don't deserve "service", but at the end of the day, baristas are there to make your ** coffee not to make your day. And if you don't like that, then I suggest you just boycott. But you wouldn't do that, Dear Customer, would you? Because what then would you complain about? Peace. Oh, and P.S. You can hate me all you want, but what I say is the truth, and the truth isn't nice.


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Having just returned from Africa it is small wonder that I found this handsome book so fascinating. Told is a straightforward manner the author manages to convey a great deal of information in a lively fashion about the life of a baby elephant. Photographs add much to the telling. An excellent non-fiction book for 6 & up.
Age: Early School Years. Award Year: 2014. Click here to purchase the product on Amazon.com.
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Challenge your birthday boy's mind with the Matchup Personalized Activity Mats! Sold on packages of 8, these place mats feature various UFC themed puzzles and activities. The coolest feature of this supply is that you can add a customized message to the top of the mat! With the striking combination of the red and black background and the illustrated fist, this is place mat will make a major statement as a table decoration too.
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MMA Joy
By Monkey mom
from St. Louis
Comments about ... Matchup Personalized Activity Mats (8-Pack):
This item was used as part of a package of party favors handed out at the end of a child\'s mma birthday party. I was proud to include it. It was well made and I lived that it could be personalized.
Bottom LineYes, I would recommend this to a friend
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SouthernAlpha's team hopped in the car yesterday afternoon and drove down to Chattanooga for what turned out to be an impressive event hosted by The Company Lab (Co.Lab). A healthy crowd of what looked to be about 200 people were on hand at the Chattanooga Public Library for Will This Float?, a pitch competition featuring 18 companies presenting their ideas.
The competitors ranged from The Farmhouse, a collective vertical farm maintained via a web app, to Sophister, a group of Sewanee students taking an innovative approach to providing low interest student loans, to Spottlife, a current participant in Co.Lab's program which has developed a social networking app that is meant to simplify the clutter that has become many people social presence. Nashville companies GameWisp and Listen Up were on hand as well.
The top prize, went to Roots Rated, an online recreation guide "curated and authored by independently owned specialty outdoor retailers." Co-founder Fynn Glover will now have an opportunity to pitch in to 500 Startups for a chance at $250K in investment capital and a spot in the program.
Winners of other categories included Spottlife which took home prizes in the "I'll use this tomorrow" and "I'll tell my friends about this" categories, and Cloud Lounge, which took home top honors in the "A little over my head" category.
Most impressive was the regional draw of competition. Teams from Chattanooga were joined by the above mentioned Nashville competitors along with companies from areas dotting East Tennessee and even South Carolina.
At times the crowd grew a little too spirited, even forcing the bar to be shut down for a bit so that the pitches could be heard. But the enthusiasm in the room was palpable and clearly centered around the companies and the community's support for them.
We drove home impressed with the Chattanooga scene and even batting around event ideas WTF? had given us. Chattanooga, we'll be calling y'all for some tips soon.


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Hey, what part of the bike determines the specified size? is it a specific tube on the frame? and also, what is a general rule of thumb for sizing a bike to one's self? thanks
Hey, what part of the bike determines the specified size? is it a specific tube on the frame? and also, what is a general rule of thumb for sizing a bike to one's self? thanks
It's measured in inches up the seat tube, usually from the center of the bottom bracket to the top of the seat tube (although sometimes the center of the top tube, although that can vary alot due to sloped designs and is more common on road frames).
You'll want to ensure you have adequate standover clearance, but standover height can't be directly correlated to top tube length due to differences in bottom bracket drop, seat tube angle, and even tire size. Two to three inches are thought to be the minimum acceptable crotch clearance for off-road use, but more is preferred and fairly common (again due to sloping tubes and strange frame geometry).
But almost more important than standover height is reach ('ETT', or Effective Top Tube length, plus the length of the stem), which is more difficult to decide "what is right." Based on your level of fitness and limberness, your riding style and your comfort and skill on a bike, people of similar dimensions are going to prefer different reaches. This is somewhat adjustable with varying stem lengths, but longer stems handle differently from shorter stems, so you'll want to pick a frame with an ETT that lets you use the length of stem you prefer.
Moral: Demo as many bikes as possible. Make note of top tube, head tube angle and stem lengths of the various sized frames you try. Try to figure out why a particular bike handles the way it does. The more bikes you demo, the more easy it is to know when you've found the right one.


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Recent Posts
By Robert Morschel 23:54:00
"So, Mr Jones, we meet again."
I squinted up at the surgeon, puzzled.
"Don't mind him," said the anaesthetist seated at my head. "It's a James Bond reference."
"Ah," I replied.
The surgeon's eyes crinkled with mirth. "Yes, sorry. I can't seem to shake the habit. But, anyway, we're here to operate on your knee?"
I nodded.
"And," he continued, looking at the chart hanging next to him, "it's the left knee."
I nodded again.
The surgeon frowned and glanced over at the anaesthetist. "Is that my left, or yours?" I was about to reply, when he winked at me. "I'm just messing with you. Aren't I, Stan?"
The anaesthetist nodded. "Yes, he does this all the time."
The surgeon continued, "We like to have some fun. Surgery can be such a boring business. Anything else you want doing while we're in? Appendix out perhaps? No extra charge. No? Okay, well, Stan let's begin."
The anaesthetist placed a mask over my mouth, and slowly the room faded from view. The last I heard was the surgeon humming the theme from Jaws.
Little Secrets
By Robert Morschel 13:13:00
The early dawn silence was shattered by the crash of distant cannon fire. Antoine stirred in his sleep, and then awoke.
"Every morning," he groaned sitting up. "Mon Dieu! How long must this war go on for?"
He felt a hand on his arm and turned to see his wife looking up at him sleepily. He bent down and kissed her forehead.
"Good morning, my love."
"I am still sleeping," she replied with mock indignation.
He smiled and kissed her again, and then got out of bed, shivering on the cold flagstones as he put on his gown and leather slippers. He shuffled through to the kitchen to light a fire in the hearth and hang a pot for hot water. He then opened the shutters and gazed for a while over the sleeping rooftops of Lombard towards the distant, hazy city walls of Réalmont. He listened to the continuing explosions.
"Poor bastards," he muttered.
His reverie was interrupted by the clattering of hooves on the cobble-stoned street below his house.
He looked down to see two soldiers pull up on horseback, trailing a third horse. One of the soldiers, a plume-helmeted lieutenant, dismounted and banged on the house front door.
"What is it?" shouted down Antoine from the window.
The lieutenant looked up. "Monsieur Rossignol? Antoine Rossignol?"
"You are to come with us, please. Général Duchamps has requested your presence at the camp at Réalmont. Immediately."
"What are you talking about?" objected Antoine. "I cannot just leave! I have students to teach! What does he want?"
"I'm afraid I must insist," said the lieutenant. "We will wait while you get ready."
Antoine sighed and turned from the window. His wife looked at him anxiously as he returned to the bedroom. "Who was that?"
"Soldiers of the prince. I've been summoned to see one his generals."
"Why you?" she asked.
He shrugged. "Who knows? Perhaps he needs help counting his cannons."
"This is no time for jokes, Antoine. You are not a soldier and have no business there."
"Do you think I want to go? But what choice do I have?"
"Clarisse, enough. I will go, and I will come back. Please help me fetch me my things."
His wife scowled, but helped him get ready.
"Please don't fret, my love," said Antoine, kissing his wife's forehead as he was about to leave. "I will take care and will be back soon, I promise."
He then opened the front door and was helped onto his horse by the waiting soldier and rode off along the narrow streets of Lombard until they reached the country road to Réalmont. The morning was still young and a reluctant mist clung to the fields. The road was dry, even with the recent rains, and despite his apprehension, Antoine felt an uncustomary thrill as they galloped past miles of poplar-lined countryside.
He heard the siege camp before he saw it, but then at the crest of a hill it appeared below: a vast sprawl of white tents flying the purple hawk crest of Henri II of Bourbon. Beyond the camp lay the great fortified gate of Réalmont.
They trotted into the camp, mud splashing surly soldiers huddled around morning camp fires as they passed, until finally they came to a halt in front of a large tent, and dismounted.
"Come with me," said the lieutenant.
Antoine followed him into the tent containing a chart-covered table, some draped chairs, a large studded chest and a simple camp bed. An older soldier wearing a nightshirt stood stooped over the charts, scratching his stubble.
He looked up. "Ah, Monsieur Rossignol," he said. "Do come in, and thank you for coming at such short notice." He took a step towards Antoine and extended his hand. "I am, despite my rustic appearances, Général Duchamps, commander of this patch of mud."
Antoine bowed and shook his hand. "Monsieur Général, I am honoured indeed to be here, but I don't quite understand..."
"Yes, my apologies for the secrecy and summoning you like this. War unfortunately curtails the freedoms of all, does it not?"
Antoine did not reply, so the general continued, "Ah well, there it is. We have a matter of great importance that you perhaps can help us with. You are a mathematician, I understand?"
"And what is your view of this war? You are, I understand, Catholic?"
Antoine shrugged. "I am indeed, but it is a war. War is unfortunate."
"You don't believe in the cause, then? The extermination of these Huguenot protestant heretics?"
Antoine eyed the general cautiously before replying slowly. "I believe in the truth of the Church, but I also believe in man's fallibility. Truth can be hard to perceive."
The general chuckled. "A diplomat, philosopher and mathematician.... and I am told with some enthusiasm for cryptography, I think it is called? The deciphering of codes?"
Antoine shuffled uncomfortably. "It is but a hobby of mine, Monsieur le Général."
"Do not be modest, Monsieur. Your reputation in this area precedes you." The general then handed Antoine a piece of paper containing a few lines of text. Antoine looked at it curiously. It was clearly a coded message: the letters were carefully arranged in a grid, but made no immediate sense.
"It appears to be a code," he said.
The general smiled. "It certainly does, Monsieur. We intercepted a messenger from the city. He was carrying this, but sadly did not live long enough to reveal its contents. We have such enthusiastic soldiers, you see. So, we are hoping you might be able to help."
"Fool, fool, arrogant fool, Antoine! To think you could solve this riddle. Oh, you come highly recommended, do you? Not after this!" He swept the papers off the table in disgust. The key to the code had eluded him so far, despite hours of struggle, and he held is face in despair. Initially the excitement at a new challenge had absorbed his attention, but as the puzzle failed repeated attempts at solving using standard decryption techniques, the young man became increasingly anxious. His lack of conviction over the Catholic cause was not a secret, and he worried that his inability to decipher the code might be considered deliberate by the enthusiastic army which surrounded him.
Antoine looked up. A small man dressed in drab civilian clothes and a white cap entered the tent bearing a tray of food.
"Pardon Monsieur for interrupting your work. Monsieur le Général asked that I bring you something to eat," said the man.
Antoine waved it away. "I am not hungry."
The man did not leave.
"Thank you, but no," insisted Antoine. "I have to finish this first. I cannot afford distractions."
The man approached and carefully put the tray on the table.
"Monsieur, I beg you to at least take a look at what I have prepared." He removed the tray cover to reveal a bowl of steaming fragrant vegetable broth, bread and cheese. Antoine relented - he was hungry after all, and perhaps a little break would be good. The man watched as he took a sip of the soup.
"Oh my goodness," exclaimed Antoine. "It's exquisite!"
The man beamed. "It is my secret recipe."
"You are a chef?"
"I am, Monsieur. The personal chef to Monsieur le Général."
"But you are not a soldier," remarked Antoine, gesturing to the chef's clothes.
"No, Monsieur. I am too small and feeble to be of such service to my country."
"So instead you cook magical soups?"
The chef blushed slightly. "I do my best, Monsieur."
Antoine continued to eat in silence, then said, "So, tell me. What's in the soup? I can see the vegetables and guess some of the herbs, but there is something else I cannot place."
"I regret I cannot say, Monsieur, the recipe is a little secret of mine, but I will say that sometimes the secret of recipes is not in the basic ingredients, but in the way they are combined to form more complex ingredients..."
Antoine looked up suddenly. "Mon Dieu!" he exclaimed. The chef frowned. Antoine quickly pushed his tray to one side and leaned down to pick up his papers off the floor. "You see," he continued excitedly, waving the encoded message, "your soup is like this secret message. And when we try to decipher it, we look for basic ingredients, the letters, and seek familiar patterns, like the fact that a letter which occurs the most often may well represent the letter 'e'."
The chef nodded, still frowning slightly.
"But!" Antoine raised a triumphant finger. "Fool that I am for missing it until you spoke, in this case, and that is what has frustrated me until now, I have been looking for simple ingredients, not complex ones. Not letters..." He paused for dramatic effect. "But syllables!"
He did not wait for a response, and peered intently at the message in his hand, then at his letter charts, and then started scribbling furiously on a blank page, muttering to himself. The chef quietly cleared away the dishes on to the tray and slipped out of the tent without a word.
And thus it happened that Antoine Rossignol, formerly of cobble-stoned Rue Navier, Lombard, teacher of mathematics and husband to Clarisse, solved the encoded message of Réalmont. The message was found to be a desperate plea for provisions and ammunition to allies of the city, and when presented to the city the next day in decoded form, resulted in prompt surrender.
The means of the victory came to the attention of His Grand Eminence, Cardinal Richelieu, chief minister to Louis XIII, and Antoine was summoned to the Palace of Versailles with his wife where he became chief cryptographer to the king. He decoded many more such messages, and developed the Grand Cipher, which for many a generation defined modern French cryptography.
History does not however mention, at least until now, the chef with a penchant for little secrets.
By Robert Morschel 02:05:00
"Lia, bring me drink," said Riat.
"Ama, there is none left," replied Lia. "There was so little on the dump today, and I had to buy some food."
"Pah, food," said Riat. "I need gin, not potatoes!" He heaved himself off his mat and staggered outside their tin hut into the muddy road that separated the shantytown from Tondo's main dumpsite. The last light of the day faded behind clouds of circling birds, accompanied by the distant hum of the Manila evening rush hour.
Lia drew near to him and tugged at his ragged shirt. "Ama, don't go. I have potatoes, and a little meat. Eat something."
He looked down at the young girl and smiled kindly. "I'll eat something, but then I must go - Benji owes me a bottle." He let her lead him by the hand and sat down on his straw mat, watching her as she prepared the meagre stew. She was lean and brown, with jet black hair tied loosely behind her, and held the pot handle with long delicate fingers.
"How you are growing up, Lia. Is it really ten years since I found you in that shoe box?"
"Eleven, Ama."
"So it is." He scratched his side where a flea had bitten him. "I don't understand why anyone would leave a baby like that."
"Perhaps my mother didn't want me."
"Babies are not like clothes, Lia," he replied angrily, "that you can just discard them when you no longer want them. It is shameful."
"Tell me why I called Lia, Ama."
"You know this story."
"I like to hear it."
"Lia is short for Liana. My dear wife was called Liana. She had always wanted children… but then … then she died. I started drinking, and lost everything." He started sobbing. Lia came to his side and rested her hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her. "It's not a happy story, is it?"
"Am I like her, Ama?" she asked.
"You are beautiful like her, inside and out. And you have her eyes."
She lifted her hand to her face. "I wish I could have met her."
"You would have liked her, Lia." He wiped his eyes with his sleeve. "Anyway, what did you find today on the dump?"
Lia shrugged. "The usual: cans, some cloth. Deni found an old TV."
"A TV!" exclaimed Riat. "He's a lucky one, that Deni."
"Not really. Shama took it off him. Deni tried to fight, but he's not big like Shama."
"A terrible shame... Hey, that meat does not look good! Where did you get it?"
"It is fine," replied Lia. "Deni's mother found it and gave me some. She said to cook it well."
Riat grunted, and then reached over to pick up a dirt-encrusted book from a small collection perched precariously on a nearby plank. "Shall I read to you?"
"I found something else on the dump."
The man put the book down and looked enquiringly at the girl. Lia turned down the heat on the little oil stove, and reached into her large, striped, plastic collection bag. She pulled out a sodden shoebox and handed it carefully to the man. He opened the lid.
"There's a note inside," he said, surprised.
She nodded, her eyes gleaming eagerly.
"Wanted," he read. "Information on the valuable contents of a box similar to this, lost many years ago in Tondo."
He turned the note over. "And there's an address."
Lia sat down beside him and looked up hopefully. "Is it her, do you think?"
Riat shook his head. "It can't be. What are the odds of you finding such a shoebox, and it being your mother looking for you, after so many years? It must be something else."
"But it might be, Ama. We'll go to the address, ya?"
He looked at her sharply. "It's all the way on the far side of Manila. How will we get there?"
"We can walk, Ama."
"It will take a whole day, Lia, and we can't afford to not work. This is foolishness. Let's not speak of it further."
He put the note back in the box, which he threw angrily into the corner of the room on to a heap of cardboard and he had collected that day. Lia knew better than to pursue the conversation and returned to stirring the stew. Later they ate in silence, the room darkening in the cooling light of the day.
After the meal, Lia lay down on her mat to sleep. Riat bent over to kiss her goodnight but she turned away.
"Don't be like that, Lia. It's a silly hope."
She did not answer. He sighed and got up to leave the hut. "I'll be back soon."
He returned an hour later, carrying a 1 litre plastic bottle of cheap gin. He stumbled unsteadily over Lia's plastic sandals, cursing as he almost lost his balance.
"Are you awake?" he hissed. Lia didn't reply, so he sat down heavily on his sleeping mat, took one final swig from the bottle, and lay down, resting his head on his arm. Sleep came soon, as did the recurring dream of his wife. She stood under a palm tree, her flowing cotton dress blowing in the breeze, holding a baby girl. She smiled at him, and held out an arm for him to come closer, but he never could.
He has awoken by the sun streaming into the hut. Startled, he sat up. "Lia, why did you not wake me?!" There was no answer. Puzzled, he looked around, and seeing the room was empty, got up, and went to the doorway. The day was already in full swing, with hordes of dusty children noisily chasing the morning dumpster trucks. He rubbed his throbbing head and went back inside. Lia had left him a bowl of rice porridge, but it was cold.
"What is going on with that girl?" he muttered to himself.
Then his eyes fell on the cardboard heap in the corner and he leaped up, knocking the bowl to the ground, splattering porridge over his feet. He sprinted out the hut, through foul alleyways, blood pounding in his temples, until he reached the tarred the outskirts of the shanty town and the roads of suburban Tondo. There was no sign of Lia, so he carried on running, his chest bursting, until he saw her an hour later, sitting crying in the dust next to the hurtling stream of traffic along Rizal Avenue. He sat down next to her, gasping desperately, and pulled her close to him.
"You silly girl," he said. They sat, huddled together for many minutes, Riat staring dreamily into the distance, Lia sniffing into his shirt, until finally he turned to her and wiped her tear-streaked cheeks with a dirty sleeve. "Come on then. It's time we finished this."
Taguig's leafy suburban lanes offered welcome, cool respite from the heat of that day. Riat and Lia shuffled wearily passed walled mansions until they reached the address on the shoebox paper. A tall wrought-iron gateway barred their passage. Riat pressed a buzzer on the wall.
"Yes?" said a strong male voice through the intercom speaker.
"We are here to see the lady of the house," replied Riat. "About a shoebox."
There was a pause, and some muffled talking, before the voice continued, "We get many shoebox people every day. What is so special about your shoebox that you should see the lady of this house?"
"It contained a child," replied Riat.
The gates opened a moment later, and Riat led Lia along an ornate gravelled drive, until they come to a massive teak door. The door opened and a white-pinafored domestic invited them in.
"Follow me," she said coldly, looking at their filthy rags with undisguised disdain, "and don't touch anything!" She led them to a large library and indicated that they should wait.
"Ama, look at all those books!" whispered Lia loudly, pointing at the book-lined walls. "Old, just like yours."
"Many more than my few," replied Riat sadly.
"They used to belong to my sister's husband," said a female voice from the shadows. They turned to face a middle-aged woman dressed in a stark business suit, her hair tied back to reveal a smooth, aquiline face. "Before he disappeared." She stared pointedly at Riat.
"Hello Maria," said Riat, shuffling forward and extending a hand. "It has been a long time."
She ignored his hand. "I want to know what happened," she said coldly, "… that night."
"Oh Maria, Liana had been so depressed about the baby. I didn't understand it – we had wanted a child so badly. Then, suddenly, that night, she said she didn't want the baby anymore. She wanted to get rid of it on the dump. I tried to reason with her, but she ran off and drove away. I followed her, and found her with the baby in a shoebox.
We fought. She was like a crazed animal. Then she fell, and smashed her head on a rock. There was blood everywhere. I just panicked and ran off with the baby."
He looked imploringly at her. "I'm so sorry."
"You just left her there, you bastard."
"She was dead!"
Maria ignored him and turned to Lia. "And this? This is the baby?"
Riat nodded.
Her face softened. "She looks just like her. What's your name, dear?"
"Lia," whispered the girl.
"Oh!" The voice behind them was soft and familiar. "That's my name too."
I'm Lovin' It
By Robert Morschel 01:50:00
Good old McDonald's - you can always count on them for a toilet when all else fails.
I told Molly, my wife, to wait for me outside and nipped in. The place was busy, so I didn't feel very conspicuous, and walked quickly to a door on the left-hand side marked 'toilets'. The door led to a long, empty corridor, which I followed, turning left at the end, where I was met with another door. I pushed the door open and was surprised to find a smiling, young girl behind a bare, steel desk. She was dressed in the standard McDonald's beige and black uniform, with an overly large cap dwarfing her freckled face.
I hesitated, stopping before the desk, and then spoke. "Er, sorry, I must have the wrong place. I was looking for the toilets."
She nodded her head vigorously, her smile now even wider than before, and then pushed a clipboard on the desk towards me. "Of course, sir, please sign here."
"No," I replied, "you don't understand. I just need the toilet."
The young girl cocked her to one side, her eyebrows furrowed with practiced empathy. "Certainly sir, but there is no misunderstanding. This is now McDonalds corporate policy. Health and safety regulations. I hope you understand."
Good grief, I thought, what next? What was this world coming to? I leaned forward, took the proffered pen from the young girl and signed the form without reading it.
"Thank you, sir," said the girl, taking the form from the clipboard and popping it into a chute where it was sucked away. "Now it you'd just like to wait a moment, someone will be with you shortly."
"What?" I replied, slightly louder than I meant to. "I don't need to be accompanied, just show me where to go!"
The young girl nodded, and was about to reply when a male voice spoke from my left. "This way, sir."
I turned to see another uniformed youngster, a boy with strong cheeks and downy brown eyes framed in steel rimmed glasses. He too was wearing a ridiculously large cap. He beckoned to yet another door and started walking, watching me carefully all the time. We reached the door, which he held open for me, letting me enter ahead of him. As I walked past him, I noticed an unusual smell about him that I could not place. The doorway opened to a large white room with a metal trolley standing against a wall. I turned to protest, but everything went black.
I woke later to find myself lying naked on the trolley, my arms and legs strapped to the side, neon lights moving past my now aching head. I turned my head to find another capped youngster pushing the trolley, but this time dressed in a white overcoat. I began to speak but then found I could not – my mouth had been taped shut. The youngster looked down at me, smiling reassuringly. "It won't be long now."
Until what? my mind screamed. Where were they taking to me? What was going on? Furiously I tried to wrench my arms and legs from their restraints, but to no avail, so I lay still, biding my time.
After what seemed an age, the trolley pushed against a door and we entered a large room filled with gently humming machinery. The youngster pushed the trolley towards a rectangular archway in the nearest machine. Stepping away, he pushed a green button on the silver panel next to us. I found myself suddenly lifted and flipped from the trolley, my bonds having been automatically loosened. I was tossed onto a conveyer belt inside the bowels of the machine, moving slowly towards a shredded rubber curtain. I tried to scramble backwards but slipped on the slick surface of the conveyor belt. The hum of the machinery had increased in intensity to a dull roar. I was pushed through the curtain, and towards two large swinging cutting wheels. I tried to clamber backwards frantically, scarcely noticing the bloodied hand prints on the walls, but was drawn inevitably towards the spinning blades. I closed my eyes and waited, resigned to my grisly fate, and thought of Molly waiting outside.
I hoped she'd have the sense not to order a burger. I now knew what they put in those things.
The Empty Stool
By Robert Morschel 14:23:00
I walked up to the bar and sat down on the empty stool.
"You don't want to sit there," said the bartender, drying a pint glass.
"Oh? And why not?" I asked.
"It's haunted," he said.
I began to laugh, but then stopped when I saw he was not joking.
"You're serious?"
He nodded.
"Well get me a drink and tell me more," I said, changing seats.
He shrugged. "What'll you have?"
"Pint of Guinness, and pour yourself one too."
He thanked me and I watched as he pulled two draughts. He was a large, portly, red-faced man - standard bartender stock. His large meaty hands dwarfed the glass as he placed it in front of me. I took my first sip and looked at him expectantly. He leaned forward earnestly.
"I've been the landlord of this here pub for nigh on ten years. We don't get very many visitors, not since they built the bypass, you see. In fact, you're the first stranger we've had in months."
"I'm not a stranger - I grew up here," I protested.
"I know, Joe, but then you moved to Dublin and got educated and all, and you know how that puts you in the minds of people around here. Anyhow, let me finish. When I first started we had a fella by the name of Henry Mallone what used to come in here, every night, always sitting on that stool. I don't recall him ever missing a night. Then, one night, just for a laugh, one of the other punters, a fella called Toby, Toby McGuire, sits in Henry's place. Henry comes in, sees Toby on his stool and tells him to move, on account of how it's his seat. Toby was a young fella like, and didn't take kindly to Henry's tone. I think he'd had a few too many too. So, he tells Henry to feck off, and Henry goes ballistic. I tell you, I never seen anything like it. He was such a quiet man normally, but that night he were like a crazed beast, effin and blinding, and then he starts to lay into Toby. I tried to stop things, but they fought like animals, breaking up the place, until suddenly Toby lands a lucky punch and decks old Henry. Henry fell like a stone but knocked his head on a table and died there in then. It was a terrible thing, to be sure."
He paused, wiping the sweat from his brow and took a long drink.
"There were an inquisition and all, but the tribunal decided it were accidental death and nothing further happened. But Toby was a heartless bastard. He showed no remorse, and fool that he was, he decided he'd take Henry's seat for his own. I remember telling him off but he didn't listen to me. I'm just an old fool, right?
The thing is, a few weeks later he disappears. He'd been living with this gal, Mair, a pretty young thing, complete waste on the likes of him. She came in here asking after him, but we'd not seen anything. The polis came later, but he were never found."
"What do you think happened?" I asked.
He raised his hand. "Not long after, there was this other fella, also a young 'un, Jerry was his name, arrogant as they come. He started to come to the pub and made himself right at home in old Henry's seat. No respect for the dead these youngsters. Two weeks later he's missing too. But they found him, mind you, not two miles from here, in the moors, dead as they come."
I nodded, "Yes, those moors can be pretty dangerous if you're not careful. Suck you right under."
"Indeed," continued the old man, a queer look in his eyes, "except that he weren't drowned. They found him sitting next to a tree stump, hugging it with all his might, his face full of dread, like he died of fright."
I smiled to myself. Superstitious old codger. "So what do you reckon scared him like that? Henry's ghost?"
He looked at me.
"You may mock, young Joe, but that's two deaths unexplained. I tell you it's old Henry being possessive about that stool you're sitting on."
I snorted, but will confess to being a little less cocky. However, I stood my ground. "Pah! Ghosts. No such thing."
"That what they teach you in Dublin?" he asked before shrugging and returning to drying his glasses. "Suit yourself."
I had another few pints and chatted to a few of the locals, before finally calling it a day. I bade them all good night, and was about to leave when the bartender called me over. He had a queer look in his eyes.
"Watch yerself out there, lad. It's a grim night for believers and unbelievers alike."
I smiled, thanked him for the story, and left.
It was a cool, cloudy night, and I was not looking forward to the half mile walk back to the B&B along the old Clairin road. A fine mist rose from the moors on either side of the road, swirling around my feet as I walked. I was thankful for the intermittent moonlight because apart from the twinkling lights of the village far ahead the road was dark. I walked briskly, the warm glow of alcohol buzzing pleasantly in my head while I mulled over the evening's strange, implausible story.
Suddenly behind me I heard the sound of gravel being trodden under foot. I spun around to look but the road was empty.
"Who's there?" I called, but the night was deathly silent, as if pausing to watch the scene unfold. I could see my breath clouding before me, the air suddenly feeling very icy. Then I smiled at myself - these moors had an eerie effect on locals and visitors alike it would seem - and resumed my journey home.
Then I heard the sound again, but this time right behind me. I froze in my tracks and turned around slowly. My spine tingled with anticipation and I felt every muscle in my body tense with the primal desire to flee. A shadow, large and looming stood before me, the moon glinting off dark, hollow eyes.
"Who are you? What do you want?"
The shape didn't speak at first, then approached, slowly, reaching out large, meaty hands, a large amorphous shape in one them, and I braced myself, wanting to scream, but somehow unable to.
The shape spoke.
"You forgot your coat."
Labels: MainFeature
For Better or Worse
By Robert Morschel 14:05:00
Seamus did not consider himself a brave man at the best of times, and this was not the best of times. He wove a nervous, unsteady path through the dark hallway of his little cottage, and carefully climbed the stairs. The house was silent apart from the heavy ticking of his grandmother's mantelpiece clock. Seamus reached the top of the stairs and turned into his bedroom, where he undressed quietly and slid into bed. The warm haze of the evening's ale enveloped him, and he let out a deep satisfied sigh.
"And what time do you call this?" growled a familiar voice next to him. Seamus started.
"Aw, Mae, don't be getting all riled up again." he pleaded. "Padraig wanted to celebrate, is all, and bought us all a few rounds."
"What's he got to celebrate then?"
"His missus left him."
"Very funny, Seamus O'Donnell," hissed his wife. "Useless, feckin' drunks, all of yous. I don't know why I didn't listen to me mam. I could have had me a fancy computer programmer like she wanted, but no, I chose the bloody butcher." She turned angrily to face the other side of the bed and was soon sleeping again.
Seamus listened unhappily to her breathing getting deeper, until finally a steady drone filled the room. He searched for the glow of the evening that had descended on him just moments before, but it was gone, so he let out a deep sigh and gradually drifted off to a troubled sleep.
They were arguing again. This time in the kitchen. But the Seamus of his dreams was not having any of it. He faced off to his feisty young wife and gave as good as he got, deftly parrying the lunges of her rolling pin with a cast iron skillet. But then she let her guard down and he lunged forward, hitting her head with a solid and very satisfying thwack, and watched her crumple to the ground, dead.
The dreams varied at this point, ranging from dismay to outright jubilation, but tonight he simply dragged her silently into his workshop where he proceeded to butcher which expert skill. A nice stew, he thought, perhaps with a little thyme, but it would need slow cooking - she was a tough bird after all. He chuckled in his sleep.
The 4am alarm shrilled brutally, sending his dreams scattering. Seamus rolled out of bed with a groan, careful not to wake his wife, and dressed silently in the dark before staggering downstairs to put the kettle on. He stood quietly in the gloom watching dawn slowly warm the grey, house-lined horizon of their little sea-side village of Kinvarra.
Another day.
The door chimed cheerfully as it opened.
"Ah, good morning Mrs O'Hara," said Seamus more brightly than he felt.
"Good morning, Seamus. Tis a lovely one, to be sure."
"That it is. That it is. Will it be your usual today?"
The tweedy, middle-aged woman beamed. "No. We will be having a dinner party this weekend. Twenty people."
"Twenty people!" exclaimed Seamus. "That is a big do. What is the occasion, if I might ask?"
"Oh, just a gathering of friends. Nothing much. One has to do these things, you know."
"Ay, that one does, that ones does."
He took her order and arranged to deliver it that afternoon.
"Who was that, Seamus?" shouted Mae from the kitchen as door chimes faded behind the departing customer.
"Mrs O'Hara."
"I thought it was. You were ever so friendly again."
The sentence hung for a moment like a poisoned dagger in the air. Seamus opted not to reply.
"Yes, Mae?"
"I am not an idiot."
"Yes dear, I know you are not."
"That woman is trouble, and I won't have you cosying up to her."
"Mae, I was just being polite."
"There's polite and there's polite. That woman stole her last husband from poor old Mrs Connelly. She'll not have you."
Seamus felt an unexpected glow of pleasure.
"No," continued his wife. "This is my butcher shop."
The Saturday morning passed without further ado and Seamus locked the shop door, gratefully flipping the sign from Open to Closed. He returned the meat from the counters to the fridge and cleaned the little shop before heading to the kitchen where Mae was busy at the cooker.
"Smells great, Mae. What is it?"
She turned sharply. "What's wrong with stew? You like stew."
"Nothing, Mae," replied Seamus hastily. "I love stew. Don't mind me. I'm just a little tired."
"I'm not surprised, getting home at God alone knows what hour of the night."
Seamus sliced a thick wedge of bread and cheese and sat down gloomily at the table. "I think I'll do my deliveries earlier today." he said. "There's not too many."
"I'm coming with you," replied his wife.
"You heard me. I'll not have you going to that woman's house on your own. And anyhow, I want another driving lesson."
Searing panic filled Seamus' brain. "You're not still wanting to learn to drive, are you, Mae?"
"Surely I am," she replied tartly. "You'll not be around forever, you know."
"That's charming."
"It's a fact Seamus. I read it in the Women's Weekly today: men die younger than women."
"I'm not surprised," muttered Seamus under his breath.
"What was that?"
"Nothing, dear. Nothing."
Seamus loaded their little white van with the afternoon's deliveries, and then stood outside, patiently smoking a cigarette while Mae got dressed. The sun hung cheerfully in a rare cloudless Irish sky, accompanied by a cacophony of bird chatter from the Doyles' overhanging birch tree. A large glutinous bird dropping landed next to him on the bonnet of his van.
"Feckin' birds!" grumbled Seamus, wiping the mess with his handkerchief.
"Ready!" exclaimed Mae, beaming excitedly as she closed the front door behind her and scampered along the gravel path. She had discarded her house clothes and was wearing a faded pair of faded jeans, black plimsolls and a bright pink pullover. Her lips sparked in the sunlight.
Sean looked at her in wonder. "Is that makeup you're wearing?"
Mae scowled. "A girl always has to look her best. Is there a problem?"
"Not at all," he replied. "Just unexpected. Anyway, I suggest we do the deliveries, and then let you drive a bit?"
"Actually, I think I'd like to drive now."
"Now? In the village?"
"Why not? I have driven before."
"I remember. And so does the rest of the village."
"Seamus! I thought I did very well for my first lesson. I'm sure that old wall was going to fall down anyway."
"All I'm saying, Mae, is that it might be safer to drive on the country roads. You know, until you get warmed up a bit."
She agreed reluctantly and the couple headed off: Seamus staring grimly ahead, dreaming of stew, while Mae sang Whitney Houston to the radio at the top of her out of tune voice, the warm sea-breeze splaying her fiery red hair behind her. The deliveries were thankfully soon done and Seamus pulled the van into a small parking lot overlooking the bay. The ocean below twinkled in the sunlight.
"Right," he said as Mae settled into the driver's seat. "Do you remember what I told you about the clutch?"
"Yes, I know, Seamus. Press the clutch when you change the gear. Press the clutch … press the clutch. You said it often enough last time. Such a silly system. Why can't they build cars to know that I'm changing gears?"
"They do, Mae, it's called an Automatic, and is for idiots. This is a manual gearbox."
She harrumphed and started the car with a roar.
"Easy does it!" shouted Seamus. "Just a little petrol."
Mae crunched the gear lever into first. The van lurched forward and stalled.
"You forgot the clutch, Mae."
"I know!" she shouted angrily. "Stop getting at me!"
She started the car a second time, and eased the van into first gear.
"Good. Now let the clutch out slowly, while applying the accelerator. Easy does it."
The van juddered and roared, and was soon racing in first gear towards a nearby picnic table. Mae twisted the steering wheel to the right, narrowly missing it, and somehow managed to exit the parking lot onto the little country lane heading back towards Kinvarra.
"Bejesus, Mae!" shouted Seamus, gripping the dashboard. "Slow down a little, will you?" His wife eased off the accelerator, reducing the engine noise to a complaining whine. "Right, now we'll try second gear," said Seamus.
"Clutch!" But he was too late. Mae had ground the gear lever into second. The van hurtled along the lane, hedge-rows flying by with unaccustomed haste.
"Wheee!!!" shouted Mae over the roar of the engine. "I'm driving!"
Seamus continued to hold on for dear life to the dashboard, repeating "Take it easy now" over and over again, but was ignored. The little van screeched around the corners of the little lane, causing dopey-eyed sheep to scarper. Mae gave her husband a triumphant glare.
They didn't see the tractor until it was right upon them. May screamed, but Seamus grabbed the steering wheel, yanking it to the left. The van ploughed through the hedge and into a rutted field, jolting angrily over the bumps towards the nearby sea-cliff edge.
"Stop the car!" shouted Seamus desperately, but his wife had floored the accelerator was holding the steering wheel with white-knuckled panic. "Mae! Stop! For God's sake!" He then lunged for the hand-break, and pulled it up hard. The van skidded to a protesting halt, finally ending up perched perilously over the cliff edge, two wheels spinning angrily in the wind.
Mae sobbed loudly, still clutching the steering wheel.
"Mae," said Seamus quietly, touching her arm and pulling her back into her seat. "Be still now. Don't lean forward and no sudden moves, OK? We need to get out. Turn the engine off, then try to open your door, but slowly does it."
He leaned back into his seat while she switched off the ignition, wiped her tears on her pullover, and opened the door. The van yawed forward threateningly. May screamed.
"Close it!" shouted Seamus. She did, and the van tilted back reluctantly.
"We'll have to try mine." He managed to carefully open the passenger door without affecting the balance of the van.
"Now Mae," he said. "I need you to climb over me. Very slowly, OK?"
His wife unbuckled her seat belt and carefully eased herself over him. She then quickly jumped out of the van onto the turf. The van groaned and started to tilt forward again. Seamus unbuckled his seatbelt frantically and scrambled out of his seat, just in time to watch the van tumble over the cliff, plunging to a noisy end on the rocks below.
The trembling young couple lay huddled together on the cliff edge.
"Seamus?" said May after a few minutes.
"We almost died there."
"Ay, it was a close one."
She paused for a moment, then continued, "Seamus, you know what I always say about me mam?"
"I've decided that she doesn't know what she's talking about."
"I agree," replied Seamus, grinning.
May looked up at her husband and slapped him playfully. "Why, Mr O'Donnell, I should … oh shite!"
"What is it?"
"I forgot to turn off the cooker! The stew will be ruined."
Seamus kissed his wife gently on the forehead. "Don't worry about it, love. I'm anyway not in the mood for stew anymore."


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Home > Sport > Football
Friday, 27 June 2014 | MYT 7:12 PM
by erik kirschbaum
SANTO ANDRE Brazil (Reuters) - Substitutes have been lighting up the scoreboards at the World Cup with dazzling performances that have sparked their teams back to life and secured wins or draws that have made their coaches look like geniuses.
When Germany fell 2-1 behind to Ghana late in the second half of their Group G match, Miroslav Klose came off the bench to equalise with his first touch less than two minutes later.
Klose's goal not only saved his team from humiliating defeat but it was also the striker's 15th World Cup goal, putting him level with Brazil's Ronaldo atop the all-time scorers list.
An unusual accomplishment for a bench warmer? Not at this World Cup.
There are several theories as to why there have been so many goals scored by substitutes at the finals in Brazil.
The record-breaking 24th goal was scored on Tuesday and 18 percent of the total 133 goals scored after the last group stage match on Thursday were by substitues.
The previous World Cup record for goals scored by players off the bench was 23 in 2006 - or 16 percent of 147 goals.
By comparison, in 2010 in South Africa 15 of the 145 goals (10 percent) were scored by substitutes.
Some coaches have talked openly about the need to have 14 top players – not just the starting XI – primed and ready for action in this tournament in part due to the tropical heat.
Germany have used some of their best players off the bench in Klose, Lukas Podolski and Bastian Schweinsteiger.
"With temperatures over 30 degrees and the high humidity, substitutes have special importance here and we need to use all three to bring new energy and impulses for the team - and not just replace someone," said Germany coach Joachim Loew.
"It's simply impossible to go all out for 90 minutes in these conditions, and using all three substitutes is a good way to really hurt your opponent," said Loew. "I'm glad I've got so many good players. It can be a big advantage here."
Brazil's heat and humidity has taken a toll in particular on the defence and the heavy legs open up space for late chances.
On top of that, using all three substitutes strategically is becoming a part of smart modern soccer.
"I tend to focus just as much on those that aren't playing," said Belgium coach Marc Wilmots, whose team came from a goal down to beat Algeria 2-1 – with both goals scored in the final half hour by substitutes Marouane Fellaini and Dries Mertens.
"We have a very good backroom with very good substitutes."
Wilmots pulled another rabbit out of the hat when he sent Divock Origi into a scoreless match against Russia and the teenager's goal sent Belgium through to the second round.
"The substitutions paid off," Wilmots said. "I took risks to win the match and it worked. Once again we snatched a win."
Both goals in Russia's 1-1 draw with South Korea were scored by substitutes. After Russia goalkeeper Igor Akinfeev inexplicably fumbled a shot from Lee Keun-ho, Russia's Aleksandr Kerzhakov saved the day with a late equaliser.
Netherlands got both their late goals in the 2-0 victory over Chile from substitutes - Leroy Fer and Memphis Depay, who now has two goals off the bench after scoring the winner in the 3-2 victory over Australia.
Humble Depay has an ideal attitude for coach Louis van Gaal.
"With incredible players like (Arjen) Robben and (Robin) van Persie, it is logical that I sit on the bench," he said.
Van Gaal first tried to downplay his role in sending in the right player at the right time: "That's luck," he said.
But he added it was also his strategy.
"We analysed that Chile gives away more space in the last 15 minutes so if you field a creative football player you have a chance to cash in," he said.
Substitutes gave the United States heart flutters and then heartbreak. John Brooks scored in the 86th minute to give the Americans a 2-1 win over Ghana but Portugal substitute Silvestre Varela scored a late equaliser in a 2-2 draw.
However, sometimes substitutions backfire.
Greece won a dramatic match against Ivory Coast by 2-1 when Giorgos Samaras scored a penalty in stoppage time after he was tripped by Ivory Coast substitute Giovanni Sio – a defeat that sent the Ivorians home and Greece into the second round.
(Additional reporting by David Ljunggren, Michael Collett-White, Gideon Long, Andrew Downie, Karolos Grohmann and Mitch Phillips, editing by Ken Ferris and Nigel Hunt)
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Kapikachhu or Mucuna pruriens is considered to be one of the ultimate reproductive tonics in Ayurveda. Tonic to whole reproductive system- low libido, infertility, impotence, spermatorrhea, premature ejaculation. It is prophylactic against oligospermia, and useful in increasing sperm count and ovulation in women.
Part used: Seed
Ayurvedic Energetics
Rasa (taste): Sweet, Bitter
Virya (action): Cool
Vipaka (post-digestive effect): Sweet
Guna (quality): Heavy, Unctuous
Dosha effect: VP-, K+
Dhatu (tissue): All tissues especially Nerve, Reproductive
Srota (channel): Nervous, Reproductive, Digestive
Ayurvedic Action
Vajikarana- aphrodisiac, Pachana- digestive, Vrishya- improves sexual vitality, Vatashamana- pacifies aggravations of vata.
(Astanga Hridaya Samhita, Bhavaprakasha)
Note: Not for people on medication of L-Dopa
Suggested Usage:
1 capsule twice a day after meals with milk or water
Pack Size: 60 Capsules
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From a simple agrarian festival to the festival of excess, if the spirit of Diwali has changed, so have rituals surrounding festive foods. And this year, the emphasis seems to be on healthy bingeing
Food, religion and rituals go hand in hand in most ancient cultures, but more so in Indiawhere many of these traditions survive till datethan anywhere else in the world. It is inevitable then that festivals that mark important moments in the agrarian calendar see concentrated bouts of ritualistic eating of foods dubbed auspicious, which are then mandatorily prepared and consumed in homes across regions and communities.
Diwali, one of the biggest celebrations. In the subcontinent is, of course, also a harvest festival. It falls at the end of the kharif season, when the paddy crop comes home. Thus we find that it is rice, in all its forms, that assumes a large ritualistic significance as far as all the feasting goes during the five-day fest. When we were growing up, and perhaps even now in the smaller towns of northern India, the buying of kheel (unthrashed rice) and batashe was a much anticipated event. The sugar often took the form of nicely moulded animals/figures that children could admire and play with before they were placed with the diyas, worshiped and finally eaten. If kheel (that you later dry roast in a pan, and season with rock salt for an instant, low-cal snack) defined rituals in the north, it took on the form of the flattened chivda/poha in the westfried to crisp, mixed with bits of coconut (another ritualistically auspicious food; Lakshmi is seen holding it so its Diwali connection is inevitable), with nuts, tempered with turmeric (a spice with so much religious significance in Hindu homes) and curry leavesto give us another delicious Diwali staple.
And then there is kheer, one of the most popular celebratory dishes across the subcontinent, a basic milk and rice pudding that can be really elevated to a sublime delicacy if cooked on a slow fire for a long enough time. Its a must-eat food for Bhai Duj just as delicacies like meetha bhat (sweetened rice) and the various murukkus, chaklis and ribbon pakoras, et al, that float around during this festive time.
If rice is the big ingredient for Diwali, there are other quaint traditions of eating too. Yams, for instance, are supposed to be eaten on the main Lakshmi Puja night to usher


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Today, the Harpies are participating in a virtual book tour for Hey Shorty! A Guide to Combating Sexual Harassment and Violence in Public Schools and On The Streets (New York: Feminist Press, 2010), authored by staff and youth interns from the organization Girls for Gender Equality, based in Brooklyn, New York. Part One of the tour (this post) is a review of the book. Part Two, posted this afternoon, will be an interview with two of the book's authors Mandy Van Deven and Meghan Huppuch.
Imagine you are a girlchild or adolescent woman or gender non-conforming youth who has to spend the majority of your day, five days a week, in a space where you are supposed to be learning and training for independent adulthood, under the guidance of caring and nurturing people with more life experience than you … and instead, those spaces feel like battle zones. Fellow students, teachers, administrators, and security guards givr you unwanted sexual attention through voice and touch, and the people in power you go to for help often blame you rather than the harasser for causing trouble. Sometimes they tell you they'll deal with the problem, but then nothing ever happens.
You and your friends decide this is just the way the world works, and you'll have to put up with the attention as best you can, or deal with it on your own through violence. Over time, the harassment becomes so embedded in normal life that it starts to feel routine, and you stop noticing it … at least on the surface. Although the anticipation of harassment, and the shame of it, continues to effect your interactions with everyone around you, your ability to concentrate on your creative and academic projects, and to shape the decisions you make about what activities you participate in and how you move through the world.
Then imagine that a group of people came along, adults and peers, who helped you imagine a different world: a world where sexual harassment wasn't just accepted as a fact of life, wasn't normalized and dismissed as less important than other forms of bullying or violence. And then imagine that group invited you to help do something to make that world into reality.
Hey Shorty! is the story of a group of adults and young women who did just that. In a collage of narrative chapters, research data, workshop resources, and personal testimony, the organizers of Girls for Gender Equality and the youth who have participated in GGE's Sisters in Strength internship program. The early chapters of the book document the birth of Girls for Gender Equality as an after-school program to promote physical activity and educational opportunities for girls ages seven to twelve. When the organization began to offer gender workshops for elementary and middle school children they discovered that one of the most popular (and most contentious) topics was sexual harassment. Sisters in Strength, a youth organizing program for high school age girls, was established in the mid-2000s and, through input directly from the young women involved, has come to focus directly on combating sexual harassment on the street and in public schools. The title of this book, Hey Shorty! comes from a documentary that a cohort of Sisters in Strength interns produced about the street harassment they and their friends experienced.
One of the most impressive aspects (I think) of the work Sisters in Strength has done, and one of the things that makes Hey Shorty! of value as more than a case study of youth organizing — not an inconsiderable contribution! — is the research that Sisters in Strength has done on the prevalence and normalization of sexual harassment in NYC public schools, and the lack of enforcement by school officials of existing policies against such bullying. While the NYC Department of Education has yet to act on their recommendations, GGE and Sisters in Strength have compiled a massive amount of data on the experience of youth of harassment and the structural apathy they face in having the problem addressed. This has led to a normalization of the experience of harassment, which in turn increases the reluctance of youth to speak up about the issue (if harassment is "just the way it is" then why speak up in hope for change?). Hopefully, the study data shared in this book, and the Sisters in Strength model for documenting issues of concern within youth populations, will have relevance beyond New York City's schools.
Join me later in the day (the post will be going live at 1pm) for a Q&A with two GGE staffers, Mandy Van Deven and Meghan Huppuch, who talk about their experience working to combat sexual harassment, the importance of youth-centered organizing, and how not to let the slow pace of social change get you down!


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Related Articles
- Ranbir Kapoor is more popular than me, says Amitabh BachchanRam Vilas Paswan all set to align with Bharatiya Janata Party againMahatma Gandhi most trusted, Amitabh Bachchan ranks second: The Brand Trust ReportNow, Air India joins fare war; experts say airlines preparing for Tony Fernandes' Air Asia entry into market
The Andhra Pradesh police Crime Investigation Department (CID) said here today that "faulty" design of Volvo buses is among the three major causes for a fire which engulfed a luxury bus and claimed 45 lives on October 30 last year, near Palem in Mahabubnagar district.
"The CID's finding shows that there is a 'defect' in the design of Volvo buses which do not make them road worthy. This is our finding and we will write to the Government of India about it. We will shortly file a chargesheet. Volvo as a company has also been made an accused in the case," Additional Director General of Police (CID) T Krishna Prasad told reporters here today.
He also cited negligence of the driver, faulty engineering of the road, as well as faulty design of the Volvo bus, as among the three major factors responsible for the incident.
In the accident which occurred on October 30 last year, 45 passengers, including 19 software engineers were charred to death after a Volvo bus run by a private operator Jabbar Travels went up in flames, after hitting a culvert on National Highway 44 near Palem in Andhra Pradesh.
According to CID investigations, the design of the Volvo bus is such that one main fuel tank of 300 litres is very close to the battery compartment, which tends to be in close proximity to the road on the right hand side of the bus.
After the bus hit the culvert, the iron pipe on the culvert railing broke and pierced into the bus, due to which sparks emanated from the battery compartment, igniting the main fuel tank, which was made of plastic, Prasad explained.
"This pipe acted like a capillary and spilled the fuel into the bus. The entire interior of the bus was made of PVC material, which is highly inflammatory. Emergency exit doors were blocked by passenger seats, in violation of rules. The owner and the operator had altered the interior design to accommodate more passengers, to maximise revenue," he said.
The bus manufacturer Volvo, bus owners Diwakar Road Lines and bus operator Jabbar Travels, had all made the bus dangerous to human life, he said, adding that investigations showed that the owners of Jabbar Travels and Diwakar Road Lines also created false documents of lease agreements on different dates.
Meanwhile, in a related development, the Andhra Pradesh CID which probed the ghastly Volvo bus mishap, arrested two more persons in the


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LAS VEGAS – Webb Simpson cruised to victory Sunday at TPC Summerlin, pulling away for a six-stroke romp in the second event of the PGA Tour's wraparound 2013-14 season.
Winning for the first time since the 2012 U.S. Open, Simpson closed with a 5-under-par 66 in the Shriners Hospitals for Children Open. He finished at 24-under 260 after opening with rounds of 64, 63 and 67 to take a four-stroke lead into the final round.
"As we were going kind of middle of the round, pins were tough, greens were drying out and I knew it would take a really special round for somebody to shoot 7, 8 under," Simpson said. "So, I felt like I was in control, and I asked my caddie, once I hit it on the green on 17, where we stood. And I was just thankful that I was able to kind of manage my golf ball the last couple rounds."
Simpson, 28, earned $1.08 million for his fourth PGA Tour title.
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Ryo Ishikawa (65) and Jason Bohn (66) tied for second.
Defending champion Ryan Moore (68) of Puyallup tied for ninth place at 15 under.
Kevin Penner (69), a graduate of Eastlake High School in Sammamish who was making his PGA Tour debut, and ex-Washington Huskies player Richard H. Lee (71) were among those tied for 43rd place at 7 under.
Penner and Moore each played college golf at UNLV.
Yang wins playoff
INCHEON, South Korea – Amy Yang made a 15-foot birdie putt on the first hole of a playoff with South Korean compatriot Hee Kyung Seo to win the KEB-HanaBank Championship.
Yang, 24, earned $285,000 for her first LPGA Tour title. She finished with a 3-under 69 to match Seo at 9-under 207 for 72 holes on Sky 72 Golf Club's Ocean Course. Seo closed with a 68.
American Michelle Wie (66), who started the round tied for 22nd, surged up the leaderboard with six birdies for the day's lowest score. She tied for third at 8 under with 2012 champion Suzann Pettersen (70) of Norway and South Korea's Sei Young Kim (69).
Other tournaments
• Michael Allen won the Greater Hickory Classic in Conover, N.C., for his second title of the year and fifth overall on the 50-and-older Champions Tour, beating Olin Browne with a birdie on the first hole of a playoff.
Allen closed with a 5-under 65 to match Browne (64) at 13-under 197 for 54 holes at Rock Barn. Allen, 54, earned $240,000.
Rick Fehr (74) of Seattle tied for 75th place at 7 over.
• Kang Sung-hoon won the Korea Open, which ended in a dispute after Kim Hyung-tae was told of a two-shot penalty when he led by one with two holes to go in Cheonan. Kim, who disagreed with the ruling, was penalized for grounding his club in an area on No. 13 deemed to be a hazard.


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'Iron Man 3' Nets $175M
Iron Man 3 is bringing the party to you. Iron Man 3 brought in in $175.3 million in its opening weekend, the second-biggest debut ever, behind last year's Avengers's $207 million opener. The Robert Downey Jr. action flick opened last week overseas, already earning $504.8 million—bringing its overall haul so far to $680.1 million.


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The Thunder is featured twice this week in TNT doubleheaders
The Oklahoma City Thunder will be featured twice this week in TNT exclusive NBA doubleheaders. On Tuesday, the Thunder hosts the Los Angeles Lakers at 8:30 p.m. Kevin Harlan will call the game with analyst Greg Anthony and reporter Craig Sager.
On Thursday, the Thunder plays the New York Knicks at Madison Square Garden. Marv Albert will broadcast the game with analyst Reggie Miller and reporter Rachel Nichols, a former ESPN reporter.
TNT's other doubleheader games will be Boston at Philadelphia at 6 p.m. Tuesday (Kevin Calabro, Mike Fratello and reporter David Aldridge) and Los Angeles Clippers at Denver at 9:30 p.m. Thursday (Ian Eagle, Steve Kerr and Sager).
The Thunder will appear on TNT the league-maximum 10 times in the regular season.
Short takes
— ABC's coverage of the Thunder-Clippers game Sunday afternoon got a 15.4 rating (percent of TV homes) on KOCO-5, the third highest NBA regular-season game in Oklahoma City, behind a 23.3 for Miami on Dec. 25 and 18.9 for the L.A. Lakers on Jan. 27. The Clippers' telecast had a strong 3.8 overnight national rating.
— The Thunder will make another appearance on ABC on Sunday, hosting Boston at noon (Mike Tirico, Hubie Brown and Heather Cox).
The St. Louis Cardinals will be featured eight times on Fox Sports' Saturday baseball package on KOKH-25, including the opener at 2:30 p.m. April 6 at San Francisco. Texas, Boston, New York Yankees and San Francisco each will make four appearances. The package will include eight consecutive 6 p.m. telecasts from May 25 to July 13.
Fran Charles, who had served as a studio host for the NFL Network, has joined MLB Network as a host and reporter. Charles will make his MLB Network debut on World Baseball Classic Today on Saturday.