This is a book that is extremely well written with the use of some incredibly well researched information. The way the facts are brought together and presented with such wonderful clarity is certain to inform and educate.
The book takes an in-depth study of the huge reliance the past and the present world leaders have been forced to place on their geographical locations.
From Russia, through China, the USA, Latin America, the Middle East, Africa, India and Pakistan, Europe, Japan and Korea, to the Arctic.
The reasons for many political decisions on World peace and prosperity are explained here. The information forecast, sometimes drifts from the reality of recent events but the forecast for the future prosperity and development of the individual nations is fascinating.
I would thoroughly recommend this book as a great learning experience.
FIRST LINE PROMPT ~ Bacon sandwiches always reminded her….
SHOCK LIFESTYLE CHANGE
by John Yeo
Bacon sandwiches always reminded her of the time she spent visiting a smallholding in the depths of rural Wales. Philip Jones was a hard worker on his land and managed to come close to self sufficiency in food.
My college roommate Patsy, his only daughter, would always extend an invitation to spend time with her family on this beautiful smallholding. Patsy was a tall girl, with long red hair and freckles all over her face and arms. We have always been inseparable friends.
Patsy stopped me in the quad one beautiful spring day. ‘Are you coming to stay with us again this year again Belle? you know you are always welcome. Dad always appreciates your help and we can enjoy ourselves in the village again. They still hold the Saturday dance in the village hall.’
Patsy had a habit of shortening my name from Annabelle
“Yes please! I can hardly wait.’
During the History lecture that afternoon my mind drifted over the coming visit. I was looking forward to playing with the farm animals again, feeding the chickens, walking the dogs and mucking out the pig sty. I had grown quite fond of the friendly single family pig, I always had time for Priscilla, I swear she was extremely intelligent and I would converse with her while I was in the sty.
The last two weeks at college passed in a blur, and we were soon on a passenger train speeding through the beautiful green hills and valleys that famously go to make up Wales. We were met at the village railway station by Mr Jones who shook my hand.
‘Hi Annabelle lovely to see you again.’
He gave his daughter a huge hug and smiling broadly
‘Hello Freckles! climb aboard both of you.’ Patsy frowned at this old nickname.
In contrast to Patsy, Mr Jones was a short, stocky, well muscled man, with an unruly mop of brown hair that he kept in place with a fashionable Barbour hat. He loaded our bags onto the vehicle and we were soon on our way.
We arrived at the smallholding where we were greeted by Mrs Jones, with a large pot of tea, a huge plateful of bacon sandwiches and buttered scones. Mrs Jones was a beautiful lady, tall with long red hair; it was obvious which side of the family the freckled skin came from.
The bacon sandwiches were delicious and I couldn’t help enquiring after my friend Priscilla the family pig.
There was an embarrassed silence as Mr Jones pushed the plate of bacon sandwiches towards me and offered me another sandwich.
‘Such is the reality of life on a self sufficient smallholding.’
It was from that precise moment I became a life-long vegetarian.
PROMPT ~ Describe ways in which your character does or doesn’t show piety.
by John Yeo
An introduction is called for here. Allow me to introduce the obnoxious Dr. Ferdinand Dickus. A cold-hearted, uncaring scientist without piety of any description whatsoever. The Doctor was a firm believer in the Darwinian Theory of evolution, survival of the fittest. As far as the religious belief in any form of afterlife was concerned, there was no such thing. Dickus was an unbeliever. According to the logical scientific evidence, we were born on this earth with nothing and we would ultimately leave thIs earth with nothing. According to him the object of life on Earth is getting as much out of life on earth and to lIve as comfortably as possible in the process. Therefore he had no charitable inclinations at all. In total contrast, his Mother, Lady Esmeralda Dickus was a devout Christian who worshipped In the local church and was extremely well regarded by the local community for her charity donations
One foggy winter morning, he stepped out of his private helicopter onto the helipad located on the roof of his laboratory.
‘Good morning Sir!’ said his secretary, who immediately fell into step with him as they headed towards the entrance to the building.
‘Hello Dorinda! What’s new? Is anything pressing?’
‘Well Sir, there’s an urgent message for you to contact your Mother as quickly as possible.’
Minutes later Doctor Dickus got through to his home phone number which strangely, was answered by the familiar voice of the family doctor.
‘Bad news I’m afraid Sir. Your Mother has had a serious stroke and a massive heart attack, she’s extremely close to death. I’m afraid there’s little conventional medicine can do now. Your Mother’s living on borrowed time. Your daughter is present I’ll put her on the line.’
‘Daddy, I’m scared, please come home. They say the only hope is prayer. We are all desperately on our knees begging for a miracle. Please hurry!’
A few hours later the helicopter landed on the lawn at the family home. Doctor Dickus raced to his Mother’s bedside to discover she had made a miraculous recovery. Later everyone, including the Doctor, proclaimed her recovery was unexplainable. Most said it was certainly the work of God in answer to the prayers of the family. Afterwards in the fullness of time, Doctor Ferdinand Dickus became a devout believer.
Mr Peacock and his wife run a medium sized Inn located in a seaport in New Zealand. The growing family are just about getting by on the profits of the Inn and their six children are in danger of going hungry. Along comes a speculator who paints a wonderful picture of a fertile tropical island which he can lay claim to and settle on with the family. Life would be so easy, they would be self-sufficient and he would own the island. In return he would find a buyer for the Inn and Mr Peacock would be able to buy supplies and fund the passage for the family. Excitement grows and the family finally arrive, on Monday Island. The stark reality of the sheer rocky cliffs and lack of anything except basics adds to the feeling of dread. Mr Peacock finds he has been cheated when he has opened the bags and boxes of supplies he purchased from the ship’s Captain and finds rotten foodstuffs and flour.
The family slowly settles in and begIns to overcome these initial setbacks Trading vessels were few and far between, due to the location of the island and the landing difficulties. The ship that had dropped them off returned with six South sea islanders to help with the work. At this time Albert, their oldest son disappears. This disappearance and the mystery of the missing Albert runs right through the book. The six islanders work hard, settle and begin to slowly integrate. Much suspense and suggestions of racism and slavery run throughout the background of the story. There Is a vivid description of the birth of the Peacock families seventh child,
There is a wonderful amalgamation of Biblical religion and the Mythic mysterious Islanders beliefs. There Is a rich vein of suspense running through the final chapters which makes this book unputdownable The culmination of the story is the solution to the mystery of the missing Albert. This leads to a shocking revelation with the finale to a brilliant well written story.
PROMPT~ What do you like the least about your father?
by John Yeo
This is a very tricky question for me as I don’t remember anything much about my father at all. This account will have to be made up of dribs and drabs of second hand information. I was born towards the end of the second world war when things were absolutely hair-raising. Enemy aircraft were in the throes of non-stop bombing raids on England. I was born in spite of this and I was living with my parents on a Canadian air force base in the depths of rural Surrey. From second hand accounts, I learned later I was wrapped in a shawl or blankets and deposited in a cupboard under the stairs during the aforementioned bombing raids. I can’t begin to imagine the effects of the continuous crash, bang, wallop, on the senses of a tiny baby lying in a cot in darkness under the stairs.
My younger brother arrived and the family were obviously surviving in spite of the rigours of living with the continuous uncertainty of war.
It will be obvious to anyone who has read this far that my Father doesn’t feature in this account at all. He was obviously a Canadian service-man based in the United Kingdom.
From all other vague inferences and information that have reached me over the years I’ve discovered my Father returned to Canada at the end of the war leaving my Mother with two children and possibly another child on the way. The family were obviously no longer entitled to stay in military accommodation and in the upheaval following the war, accommodation was scarce. Rooms were finally obtained with a widow with three daughters, and things were overcrowded, with two women and five children in a three bedroom house. Adding to the problems of this overcrowding, was the fact that my Mother was pregnant and would be adding another baby to the household shortly.
A solution to the overcrowding was arrived at through the intervention of the social services and it was arranged that my brother and I would be sent away to a residential home for children. I have always referred to this as a boarding school, as we were fed, educated and taken care of under the auspices of the charitable organization who ran the establishment.
. This was the beginning where the seeds of dislike for my Father were planted and this feeling simply grew from a vague feeling in later years.
What I dislike immensely about my Father is his total disregard of the children he abandoned and his complete inability to find the time or the inclination to trace them, I have since discovered he married again and had at least one more child from this union. I can understand his needing to start a new chapter in his life on his return to Canada, but this will never justify his closing down all previous chapters and shutting the book.
The apartment block was an Edwardian house set in the centre of a row of rundown properties that were once well-to-do dwellings for the upper middle classes. We rented a two-roomed furnished apartment on the second floor. The wallpaper featured male peacocks with their tails in full courting display. A mud-coloured threadbare worn carpet graced the floor. Our bed was a double sized mattress on the floor with four grubby pillows and a heap of assorted coats and blankets for warmth. There were a couple of battered wooden dining chairs with clothes piled on them to take the place of a non-existent wardrobe.
We had neighbours, Sarah and Josh on the same landing, who also rented a couple of rooms. When I say that we had neighbours; that was before the explosion that sadly took their lives. Apparently it was a case of the huge number of electronic devices connected to an illegal supply of electricity. The fire was caused by a short circuited electrical device that blew up. Fortunately it was a minor local explosion.