Most people know that Chinese is the most spoken native language globally, with 982 million native speakers.
What many people do not realise, however, is that there are various forms of Chinese, spoken in more countries than you might expect.
The aim of this blog post is to clarify the geographical distribution of Chinese speakers and the differences in their use of the Chinese language.
Here are three things about the Chinese language you need to be aware of if you want to succeed in the Chinese-speaking world.
1. Where is Chinese spoken?
Chinese is an official language in China, Taiwan, Hong Kong and Macau. Aside from that, there are also large Chinese-speaking communities in Singapore and Malaysia.
There are also countries where Chinese is a minority language spoken by Chinese immigrants and their descendants, such as Thailand, Brunei, Myanmar, the Philippines, Indonesia, Vietnam, the US and Canada.
There are two forms of written Chinese: traditional and simplified.
Simplified Chinese is used in China, Singapore and Malaysia.
As the name suggests, simplified Chinese uses characters that are simpler to write. The language was widely pushed by the Chinese government in the 1960s with the aim of decreasing rates of illiteracy in the country. Singapore and Malaysia went on to adopt the language because they did frequent business with China.
Traditional Chinese is used in Hong Kong, Macau and Taiwan.
Hong Kong and Macau were under British and Portuguese colonisation respectively at the time China changed to simplified characters, and therefore did not change their writing system. Taiwan has a politically sensitive relationship with China and has resisted the simplification of the language.
It is important that you use the correct version of written Chinese when you are targeting the Chinese-speaking world, otherwise you risk alienating your audience and possibly even causing offence.
I hope this has given you a useful introduction to the Chinese-speaking world. For more in-depth information, read our free guide below.
Jerry has been working in social media and business development for over six years in Taiwan, France and the UK. He has an interdisciplinary educational background, having obtained diplomas in foreign languages, industrial engineering, and international business, and he worked as a Social Media Executive at Webcertain. As a culture enthusiast, he especially likes to write about cultural differences. He currently works as a Digital Marketing Manager in London, focusing on Google and Baidu SEO. Jerry is originally from Taiwan.


In our never-to-early-for-Halloween front page post, yesterday, we mentioned the 2017 EP from The Primitive Finks. What we DIDN'T mention is that you can download the title track, "Horror Party Stomp", FREE via ReverbNation. Well......you can!
The Primitive Finks are a Surf Guitar instrumental group from New Jersey and they put on a hell of a live show. Like Los Straitjackets, the members of The Primitive Finks wear masks...or maybe green is just their natural color (it is New Jersey, after all). Unlike Los Straitjackets, their music seems bent on Horror (a sub-genre of Surf and several other genres). I guess when you're green, that's how you gotta do (I hear it's not easy being green). Ostensibly a trio, they really need to adopt the keyboard guy because they really cook when he joins in.
If you're interested in the vinyl EP of "Horror Party Stomp", you can pick it up from Double Crown. Meantime, grab the free download and check out this video of the digital bonus track, "The Keep". Consider this an early Halloween treat. The tricks will come later. Muahahaha!


text:
Tag: Friendship
Out of Retirement
December 24, 2016 AJ.Dixon6 Comments
Merry Christmas, everyone! 😀
"Voila! What do you think, mon ami?" The old reindeer turned at the sound of the cheery voice, his legs creaking and his back threatening to cramp up. He lifted his shaggy white head at the newcomer as he stepped in through the door and into the tiny cabin. A large old man dressed in green cloth grinned and turned his flabby jowls towards the roaring fire. The orange and gold light flickered across his clean-shaven face.
"Well, Pierre, I didn't realise you had quite so many chins," he replied, sending the thought with a mischievous wink. The old man's smile faded and he huffed, flopping his bulk down on a nearby armchair.
"Oh, you are a scoundrel!" he declared "Ah, but you are right, of course!" There was a small wooden table next to his armchair and upon it stood a bottle of wine and two clean glasses. Pierre uncorked the bottle and helped himself.
"So, the big night is upon us again, no? It comes around so quickly!"
"Yes, it does," the deer nodded. "I still get the old feelings of anticipation, you know. I suppose they never go away, even after retirement. How long as it been now?"
"Twenty-five years for me," Pierre replied. "And I believe that it will be twenty-two for you. Mon Dieu, how time flies!"
"Hard to believe that the new Santa is the second one after you," the deer said. "And the Rudolph is the third after me. We seem to be getting through them these days. Pity about Seamus, he was a wonderful Santa."
"Oui, he was," Pierre said sadly. "But a bit too fond of whiskey, in the end. He shouldn't have drank so much before flying through that Pacific storm…such a shame…and that was three years ago now, no?"
"Yes, that's right. Still, the new Santa appears to be finding his feet," the deer sent. As soon as he had finished speaking, there came a knock on the door. A moment later an elf poked her head inside, an expectant look on her face. The cold night air rushed in and disturbed the fire, sending shadows dancing around the room in a panic.
"Evening, sirs," she said, curtseying as she stepped inside. The small bells on her tall, pointed hat jingled. "Santa would like speak with you. He's a bit nervous about tonight, I think."
"Speak of the devil!" Pierre said with a broad grin. "Wiggles and I are not up to much, please send him in!" The elf curtseyed again and left the cabin. The reindeer growled and glared at Pierre.
"Why do you insist on calling me that?" he sent.
"It is your name, is it not?" Pierre asked, pouring out an extra glass of wine as he refilled his own.
"That's not the point, you know I hate it!" Wiggles sent, scowling. "That was the hardest part about retiring, having to lose my first decent name…" Before Pierre could begin laughing in earnest, the door to the cabin swung open again. Another very fat man strode into the room, resplendent in his red-and-white clothing and shining white beard. His dark face was creased in happiness as he walked over to Pierre and seized his hand.
"Pierre! Ça me fait toujours plaisir de te voir!" he said with enthusiasm. Pierre smiled at the compliment and nodded towards Wiggles.
"And to you, mon ami! But let us speak in English for the sake of our valued steed, yes? He is not intelligent enough for two languages!" Pierre yelped as Wiggles bit him on the hip.
"I have a working understanding of the language, you fat fool!" Wiggles chided. "Half a century of listening to you wail your old songs gave me that much at least!"
"Those are ballads of great beauty and skilled composition, I'll have you know!" Pierre said with a laugh, rubbing his hip. "Now, what can we do for you, dear Emmanuel? May I offer you some wine?" The man in red smiled and spoke up, stroking his beard with his fingers.
"Nah man, I'd better not," he said slowly, sampling the less familiar words with care. His accent was thick and exotic for the North Pole. "Pierre, I don't like the take-off, man. Reindeers are all ready, but I'm the scared old goat! Ya both helped me last Christmas, an' so could…could ya come an' see me off this time? I'd be grateful." Emmanuel's eyes moved imploringly between Pierre and Wiggles. It was Wiggles who spoke first.
"Of course, Emmanuel!" the reindeer sent, shooting Pierre an eager look. "The fat fool and I were just discussing the old times, as it happens. I think we both miss the job more than we'd like to admit." Emmanuel's grin split his beard in unequal halves and he nodded with vigour.
"Oh, thank you, thank you!" he said with excitement. "I bet you do miss it, man! It's the best job I ever had! The kiddies are so happy in the mornin', an' I get to make it happen! An' seein' Haiti again always brings me joy!"
"Oui, that is wonderful!" Pierre said with longing in his eyes. "I am envious, Emmanuel. I would love to see Lille again…to be frank, I would love to see the world again, but I am too old to travel away from here now." Emmanuel seemed struck by a thought and he cocked his head to one side.
"Maybe not, man," he said slowly. "Ya should come with me! Both of ya! Think about it, man! Up in the sky again, feelin' the wind in ya hair and hearin' those sleigh bells jinglin'!" Pierre's eyes widened and Wiggles was too taken aback to say anything.
"Emmanuel, that is a magnificent idea," Pierre replied, choked. "I didn't realise just how much I missed that creaky old bucket and the stink of the reindeer blowing in my face until this evening. I'd love to do it all one more time!"
"Eloquent as always," sent Wiggles. "You can count me in, as well, Emmanuel! That is if the Grand Elf sees fit to let us, and if we can get the 'creaky old bucket' off the ground with you both in it!"
"Aha, you a cheeky one, man!" Emmanuel said, grinning from ear to ear. "Come, come! Let's go an' speak with him right now!"
The Grand Elf was an old being who radiated knowledge and wisdom. His small face was cracked and creased by innumerable lines from innumerable years on the earth, and his long white beard trailed the floor in twin lines behind him. Standing in the large, decadent Grand Cabin, supported by two young elves who held him at the elbows, he looked hard at his audience. Despite their own long lives and their familiarity with him, the trio were struck dumb with awe at the elf. They fidgeted before his gaze, scuffing their feet on the floor and clearing their throats as he pondered their question.
"This…is most irregular," the Grand Elf rasped. His voice sounded like sandpaper scraping across a wooden toy. "There is no precedent for a former Santa Claus and Rudolph taking part in Christmas Eve so long after the termination of their duties. Why should I allow it?"
"Master Elder, sir," Emmanuel began, wringing his hands together. "I'm still scared about the take-off, an' I could use the help."
"The elves working here can provide ample instruction," the Elder wheezed, frowning.
"I know, sir, but I would feel much better to have my friends with me," Emmanuel pressed. "An' also, they wanna fly again! You'd be doin' them a great favour, too!"
"Hmm…" the Grand Elf mused, rubbing his chin with a trembling, time-withered hand. "It is not simply a question of missing the journey into the sky, but of the magic of Christmas. Do these two still hold that magic close, I wonder? Or has it faded with the decades of inactivity?"
"Tch! Don't be silly, man!" Emannuel said, affronted. He was immediately contrite. "'Scuse me, sir! I mean, of course the magic is still there. These two are walkin' Christmas spirits!"
"I would ask them the question and not you, young man," the Grand Elder said with a stern frown. Emmanuel blinked at the comment but held his tongue.
"Sir, I don't know where I ought to begin," Pierre said with confusion. "I… Christmas has always been special to me, and I tried to spread my happiness every year when I was living in France. I helped charitable organisations feed the homeless and visited the elderly in my younger days…." Pierre trailed off, thinking. The Grand Elder stood in silence, waiting. Pierre gulped and continued.
"But I must talk to you about the work itself…I still remember the first time I was given the honour of being Santa…" Pierre stared into the distance with a smile on his face. "Mon Dieu, it was fantastic! To wear those wonderful clothes, to see the world with sturdy animals and the starlight to guide me…. incredible! But…but most of all I loved to imagine the smiles on the faces of the children on Christmas morning. Ah, the rosy glow of happiness! The cheer in their eyes! The laughter and the love! That, to me, is the real joy of Christmas!"
"Pierre is right," Wiggles sent. "It's been a long time since I was a foal, but I have spent every year since trying to make humans happy. The children and the old, the merry and the glum, they all deserve to be joyful at Christmas. Serving mankind as Rudolph for forty years has been the highlight of my life. I've never been happier, and I still want to spread my happiness across the world with my friend Pierre."
"We did it together, mon cher ami," Pierre said with great affection. He laid a meaty hand on the old reindeer's head. Wiggles nuzzled Pierre's hand and bleated fondly. The love between the two friends was palpable and one of the Grand Elder's aides sniffed loudly. The other dabbed at her eyes. Gradually, the air inside the Great Cabin became warmer and seemed to shimmer around Pierre. The fat man laughed in delight as he flexed his tingling fingers, his eyes growing wide as soft, white sparks danced along his skin. His belly shook as he laughed, the happy, rich sound booming around the room as he sparkled with light. Next to him, Wiggles began to croon in the back of his throat, bucking his legs and shaking his head. He squeezed his eyes shut, snorted twice and then sneezed. As he lifted his head, a crimson light shone around his nose, lighting up the astonished onlookers. His face looked as close to a bright smile as a reindeer could get. Bathed in the light from the two friends, Emmanuel clapped his hands together and bounced up and down, his bulk making the floorboards creak.
"You see! You see! They've still got it!" he said, his wide smile threatening to burst from his face. "What did I say, man? I told you!"
"Yes, this is quite a display!" the Grand Elf said, beaming through his own beard. "The magic of Christmas is still strong within you both! Excellent, excellent! I see no reason for you not to accompany Santa, if you are both able. Blast the irregularity, it is Christmas!" Emmanuel seized Pierre's hand in both of his and pumped it vigorously.
"Oh, Pierre, my heart sings for you!" he said, still bouncing on his heels. "This will be the best Christmas ever!"
"Oui, mon ami," Pierre said, sharing the excitement with tears in his eyes. "It certainly will! Now, I must prepare! I will need my old suit, my old hat and my old boots! Oh non, will I still fit into them? I have gained so much weight since then…Oh, Mon Dieu, why did I decide to shave today of all days?" Emmanuel burst out laughing as the old man hurried off towards his own cabin, muttering to himself and fretting about the cold night air. Wiggles shook his great head and sent his amusement to Emmanuel.
"That old fool never did have the best timing!" the glow from his nose waved merrily as he laughed. "Now, I'd best get ready myself. See you on the runway, Santa!"
"Not soon enough, Rudolph!" Santa answered with a wink. Wiggles scampered off, feeling as happy as a foal at feeding time. What a wonderful Christmas it was going to be!
Fiction Fursday/Flossy's Chance
June 16, 2016 AJ.Dixon17 Comments
It's Thursday again and time for another short story. This week my prompt comes from the Ben Kenobi to my Luke Skywalker of short stories, Geoff Le Pard. By the way, did you lot know that he's published his Nano stories in a collection? Well then, now you do and you can visit the Amazon page and take a look! Go on, they're very good!
Geoff's suggestion is an interesting one. He challenged me to write a story in the 2nd person involving a rescue dog. Now, I don't believe I've ever written a story in the 2nd person before so I've taken on the challenge with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. I hope it turned out okay! Thanks again, Geoff!
P.S. If any of you lovely people would like to challenge me to write a story one week, please feel free to leave a comment and let me steal your ideas!
Flossy's Chance
Do you remember when they first brought you home? The word hadn't prompted feelings of security or solace before, only thoughts of misery and pain. The big place with the cages hadn't been much better as you had missed your old master terribly despite all he had done. You liked the new humans a lot, in fact you believed that you loved them, but you weren't sure about "going home" again. Your fears were allayed almost immediately as soon as you stepped into their house, your three legs quivering. It was much, much bigger than the last one you lived in and it smelled better too. It smelled cleaner, more inviting, with barely a hint of alcohol anywhere. It smelled of happiness and comfort, without the pervasive taint of anger and bitterness. The two little boys even gave you a new name to signify your new life: Chance. It was a good name and you loved it.
Do you remember when you saw Flossy for the first time? You were quite a shock to her as well! The old black cat was extremely put-out by your arrival, viewing you as an invader to her home of peace and pampering. You were frightened of her to begin with, but then again you were frightened of everything back then. Flossy resorted to passive-aggression anyway: she would hiss at you if you approached her food bowl and she would demurely ignore you whenever you sniffed her but she would never touch you. You grew confident and happy with that thought in mind and began to truly enjoy your new home. The young boys would take you out for your daily walks, laughing merrily as you hobbled along to keep up. You would cower whenever another dog drew near, whimpering as they tried to greet you. You even ran from adoring strangers who wanted to stroke you and call you a good boy. You were so frightened of everything, but you knew that you were safe with your new family nearby.
Then, the incident happened. You remember it well, although I'm sure that you wish you didn't. You had been playing with the boys and had retreated out into the garden as they chased you. Barking with delight, you had stumbled into the grassy paradise eager for more. The boy's mother had called them back, however, so you were left to amuse yourself. You knew that you shouldn't have gone anywhere near the wall, but curiosity got the better of you. You approached the low wooden structure and after sniffing about you scented your neighbour. Too late. With a bark more akin to a roar, the gigantic hound from next door leaped over the fence and stood in front of you, his eyes alight with fire. You were so frightened! You had heard the nightly declarations of the great beast for months, listening to him boast about his strength and cunning and of how he could tear any of the local dogs apart. Staring up at his bared fangs you believed it completely. The big dog mocked you with his laughing growl and approached with deliberate menace. You whimpered and begged, crouching as low as possible because fleeing was futile. Your almost-forgotten memories of the beatings and the cruelty came flooding back and you almost died of fear then and there.
The last thing you expected was for Flossy to get involved. You were dimly aware of the sound of the cat-flap bursting open and before you knew it a black streak of fur sailed over your head and struck the big dog. The dog yelped and leaped backwards, bleeding from deep scratches on his face. Flossy stood between you and the beast, her hackles raised and her tail erect like a sword, spitting and hissing furiously. The big dog was shaken by the sudden interference and stared down at the old cat in disbelief. Flossy screeched and charged, her claws extended. The big dog yelped like a new-born pup and scrambled back over the wall in a panic. Flossy nimbly jumped on top on the wall and hurled more abuse at the hound as he raced away. You were saved!
From that day on, Flossy rarely left your side. It's strange, isn't it? The way Flossy saw herself as your protector after months of dislike? Clearly it had all been an act and you had never been happier to realise it. Your new-found guardian angel stalked a few feet behind you whenever you hobbled into the garden and could be spotted watching you play in the park with the children, calmly licking her fur but keeping a wary eye on everything. Feeling her watchful green eyes on you at all times made you feel as if you were wearing armour. Nobody and nothing could touch you when Flossy was around!
Sadly though, Flossy was an old cat…her death hit you hard, didn't it? You knew that she hadn't been well for a long time and tried to stop her from following you when her legs were aching. Flossy ignored you and followed you anyway. She was a stubborn old thing, wasn't she! She never shirked one day from her duties as your protector, did she? It was heart-breaking for you when she passed during the night and your piteous howls of pain awoke the family to share in your grief. It was a dark day when Flossy the Super-Cat wasn't watching you anymore…
You're still going to lie there, then? Ever since she was buried under her favourite apple tree you've spent hours lying there in the evenings. Do you mean to watch over her as she once did for you? If so, you're a very sweet dog. Flossy would be happy knowing that you still cared. But it is getting dark now, so perhaps you had better come inside. There's a good boy.
The final day of this April's Challenge is here, and I've got some catching up to do! Unfortunately, I have stumbled at the last hurdle this week and I will need to post three stories in order to complete the Challenge properly. But fear not, for I intend to pick myself up and sprint to make the finish!
I'm starting by uploading Thursday's story, which was prompted by one of my email followers. The lovely Viki Allerston suggested "X" for "XENOPHOBIA", and I think it's a great word in such a restricted letter group! Unfortunately, this word is very relevant to the world today and so I wanted to treat with a degree of care. I have plans to explore this subject another day with a less restrictive word count, but I have come up with a short story which addresses it in the meantime. Thanks for the prompt, Viki!
Here's what I was able to come up with. I hope you enjoy it.
The good-natured chatter within the tavern hushed as the dark-skinned man wearing a turban walked in. He stopped as dozens of pairs of eyes turned towards him, most with open hostility. He gulped, took a deep breath and strode up towards the tavern keeper. The man ordered a drink in his rough accent and the other patrons reluctantly turned back to their own, grumbling to their companions about the "damn foreigners". Two men seated close to the door glanced at one another and shook their heads.
"That was a close one, Rek" the first man said, stroking his waxed moustache. "It's a good thing he isn't armed or one of those fools at the back might've jumped him!"
"He is armed, Jarol," the second man replied, gesturing towards the stranger with his mug of ale. He was taller than his friend, with a shiny bald head and a bushy beard. "He has a dagger hidden in one of his boots and another one up his sleeve. These are dangerous times, my friend."
"By the Gods! I know I've been away for a while, but things are worse here than I could have imagined!" Jarol exclaimed. "It's a sorry state of affairs when a man must come secretly armed in order to have a drink! And all because he is from the Eastern realms!"
"It is," Rek agreed, patting the scabbard of his short-sword. "But there's more to it than simple dislike. The Easterners have been causing tensions in these parts for decades but the High Lords won't acknowledge it. The Northmen don't appreciate the way that Easterners have been muscling in on trade and housing since they settled, but the Easterners do nothing to aid their cause. They strut around villages in large gangs, intimidating all but the bravest or the most foolish of the natives. It's rather unusual to see an Eastern man come into a tavern alone, actually. Naturally, many Northmen have become embittered and are crying out to 'reclaim their land' from these 'invaders'."
"Reclaim?" Jarol grimaced in disgust. "Invaders? What do these Northmen think their ancestors were doing in the Eastern realms a century ago, taking in the scenery? That is ridiculous!"
"It is, but keep your voice lowered, my friend," Rek said quietly, turning to glare at the men in the tavern who had begun to pay attention to them. The men lowered their heads before his stony gaze. "These Northmen are fiercely proud, and arrogant. Do not make the mistake of questioning their ire in public."
"You're right, I'm sorry," Jarol said, nervously glancing around the room. The other men had returned to their conversations, but they seemed to be keeping their ears open.
"It's happening in my homeland, too," he said, looking at his ale sadly. "The Southern Province used to be so accepting, so united once the Divide broke down. Alas, twenty years later and the liberators have become our new jailors! My own family had its farmland seized by the new lords and we were all but forced to move north. We don't have as many issues here, but we are still seen as second-class citizens, even if it's done politely."
"It's such a tragedy that your land couldn't remain united, it was such a wonderful time to be alive when the Divide ended." Rek's mood was sombre.
"It truly was, wasn't it?" Jarol smiled and his eyes clouded as he became lost in his memories. "We were all cheering, Southerners of all colours and creeds clasping hands and dancing together, sharing music and food. Brothers and sisters at long last! But now…the Divide is back, simply in disguise, coaxed back by ancient prejudice and grudges." He sighed dejectedly and took a long swallow from his mug. His friend simply nodded, frowning.
"The trouble is," Rek began, gesturing around the tavern. "Ordinary folk don't understand what's happening to their lands, but they are always eager to pin the blame on somebody else. Here, it is the Easterners, and in the Southern Province it's your kind. We seem to have lost the ability to live amongst each other peacefully." He stopped as some of the men began loudly talking about the turbaned stranger in aggressive voices. The man sat at the bar, keeping his head low and trying to ignore their comments. The big man stood up.
"Come on, friend," he said. "Let's go and sit with that fellow and give him some company. Perhaps he'll appreciate another drink and a way to shut those braggarts up." The Jarol nodded, also rising.
"Yes, that's a fine idea," he responded with a smile. "The world may have forgotten how to be friendly, but you and I certainly haven't! Let's help the poor fellow out." So the two men strode over to the frightened Eastern man and made his acquaintance. The man was initially suspicious and then greatly relieved at their presence, gesturing happily at the stools next to him. The men sat, and the other patrons looked on in dumb silence.
I'm a day late with this one, for which I apologise. I was determined to keep on track with these posts but I found myself exhausted after work yesterday. I attempted to write my story yesterday evening but I decided to stop as I was reluctant to force a story just for the sake of posting it on the correct day. So, with my excuses out of the way you can all put down your pitchforks!
Today's word (or yesterday's) comes again from the matriarch of my childhood. As I've said, my Mum has been keen to help me with this Challenge wherever she can and has done so by providing me with another fantastic suggestion, and it is "T" for "TORRID". I had a few ideas spring to mind with this one, although I suspect it may have come about due to my Mum reading trashy literature… who knows!
Anyway, here is what I was able to come up with. I hope you enjoy it and I promise to stay on track for the final week!
Deidre reclined on the rumpled bed sheets and smoked a cigarette out of the hotel window, shivering as a gust of bitter wind found its way into the room. She gazed up at the grey sky and eyed its pregnant rainclouds with disinterest. The predicted storm was approaching and soon London would be subdued and miserable beneath its influence. Deidre, however, would not be. On the contrary, she was happier that dreary afternoon than she had been for months, and it was all thanks to Sam.
Deidre's life had taken a turn for the worst two years previously, and it began on that fateful evening of July 2014 when her husband left her. Deidre had believed that her marriage was a happy one; she had been happy, at least. Derek had been a good husband, if a little on the quiet side, and their lives together had been functional and affectionate. Not enough, it seemed, to ensure Derek's happiness. He had simply packed his bags that evening and left, leaving a shocked Deidre alone with her disbelief and her tears. As the months and the divorce proceedings wore on, Deidre slipped further and further into a pit of self-loathing and despair. She believed herself to be hideously unattractive, outwardly detestable and inherently unlovable. She was nearly fifty and having been in a relationship for more than two decades she had lost any and all knowledge of how to be single. She wallowed in her own misery, expecting to die in a world where nobody would give her a second thought. Then she met Sam.
Sam came into her life like a burning torch thrust into a dark cave. It was as if the world had regained its colour and the cruel bastard of a deity who wielded the paint had had a change of heart. Deidre had met Sam in a café the morning after her work's Christmas party. Deidre had gone along out of a sense of obligation and had sat alone in a corner drinking steadily as she remembered previous, happier Christmases. The next morning as she sat nursing a massive hangover in her local Costa, a beautiful, engaging individual had approached her. Sam had been at the party the night before and was likewise dealing with a sore head and so suggested they sit in mutual misery. Deidre hadn't the energy or the gumption to protest and so the two began talking. Despite their obvious age-gap, Deidre found Sam to be a wonderful, intelligent person who was also respectful, pausing to let Deidre speak whenever she found the courage to do so. Sam was funny too; Deidre had almost forgotten what it was like to laugh before that morning. They parted having exchanged numbers and promised to meet again the next morning. Mystified, Deidre had actually gone about the rest of her day with a smile on her face, bollocks to the hangover!
It didn't take long before Deidre and Sam were meeting regularly over coffee and soon that moved on to lunch breaks together and the occasional drink at the end of the week. Deidre found herself opening her heart to her new friend, pouring out her feelings of worthlessness and her worries about her future. Sam had held her hand as she had sobbed, offering soothing words and companionship. Through her tears, Deidre had looked into Sam's gorgeous face and suddenly they were embracing. Quite naturally, yet still surprisingly, they began their affair. It was an affair due to Deidre still technically being married, but it also posed one other, significant problem: Sam was her boss' partner.
Back in the hotel room, Deidre sighed and glanced at herself in the mirror. She had never liked the sight of herself naked; she thought that she had far too many flabby parts and stretch marks collected through years of obesity to actually be attractive. Sam had never once complained, even going as far in the other direction as calling Deidre beautiful on several occasions. Despite her rational mind telling her otherwise, Deidre did feel beautiful with Sam. She felt beautiful and free…and guilty. Life had surprised her by making her boss a cuckold…she certainly hadn't seen that coming!
The bathroom door opened behind her and bare feet padded on the carpet. Deidre exhaled the last drag of her cigarette and tossed the butt out of the window.
"You do realise that this can't continue, don't you?" Deidre asked sadly, afraid of the answer. Sam didn't respond but instead moved silently around the bed. A pair of hands gently cupped Deidre's chin and raised her head up. Deidre's morose brown eyes locked with the most dazzling green eyes she had ever seen.
"Hush now," Sam whispered sweetly, caressing Deidre's cheek. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, not before. Now kiss me, you old worrywart!" Sam pressed her lips against Deidre's, and her lover's eyes closed. The two women embraced passionately, oblivious to the rain which began to hammer against their window.

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaCommonCrawl


text:
Round 'n Round the Mulberry Bush
September 9, 2014 September 9, 2014 by Arusha
How many times around Africa, or the world, can you chase a terrorist? Piracy has now moved from the Gulf of Aden to the Gulf of Guinea.
Fans of the superb movie Captain Phillips will understand better than most (except readers of the New York Times or London's Guardian) how high seas piracy is instrumental as seed money for "new" terrorists.
Then, once they get established, funds come from all over the world, starting with disgruntled or religiously extreme Saudis and spanning a wide range of bad people all the way to Hong Kong gangsters.
Then, they get their hands on big weapons and, game on.
But that seed money is fundamental. It comes from piracy or kidnapings or both.
We can't ransom James Sotloff, but god forbid that we lose any oil or Camry's. Yesterday, the Hai Son 6 secured its release from Nigerian pirates. The press release said the pirates got away with "some cargo" but I doubt that was the end of the story.
Almost every big ship that's pirated is ransomed, and not with a handful of millions of dollars, but with dozens of millions of dollars.
Obama and Hollande successfully chased well-funded terrorists out of Somalia over the last several years, and our proxy army of Kenya occupied their main port, Kismayo.
Now, they're on the other side of the continent.
Almost two years ago, when the fight against al-Shabaab in Somalia began in earnest, Europeans immediately began seeing piracy not seen before in the Gulf of Guinea.
The European Union immediately set up a committee and fund with about $6 million to help Gulf of Guinea states combat piracy. No takers. Until now.
Yesterday in Cameroon the French ambassador (giving the money), all the big wigs from the Cameroon government (taking the money) and the Brazilian ambassador … Brazil? Yes, almost all the container traffic between Africa and South America occurs between Brazil and the Gulf of Guinea states.
What prompted these weak States to take more direction from Europe is the radical increase in piracy. Last year there were 32 pirate attacks of giant ships and 24 were "successful."
"Successful" means the pirate's got a ransom.
A month ago, authorities noted a "game changer" attack of piracy on a container ship in the high seas, much further off-shore than before.
"The attempted boarding of a vessel underway, especially at night and this far out in open seas, is a tactic … associated with highly motivated Somali pirates," said Ian Millen, Chief Operating Officer of Dryad Maritime.
It was reminiscent of Captain Phillips: three speedboats overtook then boarded the vessel.
The reason it was a tactic "associated with highly motivated Somali pirates" is because it was undoubtedly carried out by highly motivated Somali pirates.
Because they were chased out of Somalia.
Game changer? They're just playing on a different side of the board.
So now begins a lengthy time of European and Gulf of Guinea States chasing them away. And they will earn millions and millions of dollars, and be richer than they are now, which is richer than they were in Somalia.
And they will be chased from the Gulf of Guinea to Gulf of Tonkin to the Davao Gulf, etc., etc.
Until "rich" is stopped, this will continue ad infinitum. This means you don't ransom ships, you arm merchant ships to defend themselves (currently highly restricted) and you stop the money chain.
Swiss banks can no longer be so anonymous. The Caymans can no longer be so indiscreet. China must allow regulation outside itself of Hong Kong banking.
Ultimately, you've got to deal too with the reasons terrorism exists in the first place. Try these on for size:
Poverty, Depravation, Oppression
British Aplomb
Dominoes in Reverse


James Martin responded by saying: "Firstly can I apologise and I can assure you I will deal with it personally."
Ewen told BBC Scotland's Stephen Jardine programme the pair had a private message conversation after the TV chef picked up on the Twitter storm around the picture.The host of STV2's Late Show said: "Fair play, he is going to deal with it and I have got no doubt he will fix whatever issues there are at Glasgow.Ewen said: "I can't believe how this tweet has gone crazy."
Speaking from the airport in Paris before returning home, he said he had noticed the James Martin restaurant in Glasgow Airport before flying to France and thought he would try it out.Ewen explained: "When we went in I noticed the price of the burgers was ?9.50 plus and you were not getting chips with that or onion rings or a side salad - just a burger on its own."I said to my wife 'I'm not spending ?10 on a burger'."While Ewen went to newsagent WH Smith for a "meal deal" his wife ordered a burger from the restaurant."When I got back 10 to 15 minutes later my wife was sat looking at the burger," he said.The DJ admitted that his wife had told the staff not to put lettuce on the burger, which contributed to it looking less appetising, but he was still disappointed by the meal."What they served was the flattest of burgers, which was burnt round the edges, a huge roll that was quite stale and not fresh, with some cheese and onions in the middle. "It was just poor quality. For ?9.50 I was absolutely gobsmacked." Ewen says he often finds airport food disappointing.He said: "It is a problem at airports around the country. It is overpriced and it is never as good as you expect it to be. I don't think it is just a James Martin problem."A statement from Glasgow Airport: "We were sorry to hear of Mr Cameron's recent experience while dining in James Martin Kitchen."The images shared certainly don't reflect the high standards we expect to deliver and it was reassuring to see Mr Martin respond personally to the feedback received."Our retail team is working closely with staff from James Martin Kitchen to ensure our passengers continue to enjoy the quality products and customer experience they rightly deserve."


Are you going to the first fishing adventure on the Chilliwack? Well, it might be a very exciting thing for you, but you must know how to go about it. The best thing would be to take assistance from a company who can provide you all the guidance you need to sail forth. Moreover, ensure the company would guide you with special attention on skill level and interest.
If you are planning to go for a fishing trip in Chilliwack, ensure you follow some of the basic things. Remember the better tips you follow, the more will be the chances of catching good fishes. To begin with, try to spend more time on the water to learn about fishing and then go ahead. Once you are ready to go for a fishing trip, here are some questions that are sure to hover in your mind.
Decided you want to go for your first fishing adventure, but are there questions on your mind? Well, it is essential you ask the company these questions assisting you in the trip. Once you are convinced only then set forth on the fishing trip.
How much time to spend on the river?
Depending on your need, most companies provide you a full day trip on water. It is usually of 8 hours and the clock starts when your boat leaves the launch. It can either be less depending on your need, but it won't be more. Even though shorter trips can be arranged, day trips are more popular.
How many fishes can you catch?
In your first fishing adventure in Chilliwack, you can't expect to catch numerous fishes, but you can try and catch a few. They would provide you people who can assist you in catching fishes. With expert help you sure won't return empty handed. The number also varies from one season to another. The size and weight also depend on the season.
Will there be people to offer assistance?
If you avail services from a renowned company like Tightline Fishing adventure, you will definitely get proper assistance. The professionals would stick with you right after you board the boat till the end of the trip. If you are a novice, the guide will be able to help you if you wish to catch one or two fishes. But if you don't want, you can watch him go ahead.
This entirely depends on the month you are planning to go on a fishing adventure However, to avoid the rush, it is essential you book up at least one year in advance. The peak months are August, September and October. In case of March, April, May and June, you may get a charter within a week's time. But to be on the safer side, book in advance.
Weather is really crucial when you are planning to set sail on a fishing trip. Fishing doesn't always mean staying on the land. At times you need to go deeper. So, ensure the weather is suitable for fishing. If need be, you can search weather prediction site online to get an update well in advance.
Precisely, it is indeed a great experience if you are planning to go on a fishing trip for the first time. Bringing back home a basket full of fishes is a great thing and this certainly needs proper planning. Happy Angling!


"Pimp My Logo!" "Brand My Everything!" "Chicago!"
grant@icon needed a new logo design and created a contest on 99designs.
Please visit http://www.chicagoicon.com this is an attempt to relay who we are! In short - we are a one-stop-shop for Chicago Public School engineers, and other Chicagoland commercial business owners who require top-shelf /extreme security door and door hardware systems - we are licensed/insured general contractors and expert locksmiths in the state of Illinois who are second to none! We are the best!
Chicago Public Schools, Banks, Retirement Centers, Police Stations, Private Business, and wherever a secure environment is most important!
I have developed the logo as seen on the website - and "I am board with it!" Please "BRAND ME" from start to finish with your ideas and designs from logo to web - It's all up to you! **Try to work with the circle design and take it from there - but if you feel strongly about another design - please feel free to post it!


text:
Staunton's Christmas Parade is 'magic' on Beverley
"Parade magic is a huge community collaboration. It takes literally thousands of volunteers to bring it together."
Staunton's Christmas Parade is 'magic' on Beverley "Parade magic is a huge community collaboration. It takes literally thousands of volunteers to bring it together." Check out this story on newsleader.com: http://www.newsleader.com/story/entertainment/2016/11/22/staunton-christmas-parade-magical-main-street-staunton/94228548/
Monique Calello, mcalello@newsleader.com Published 11:28 a.m. ET Nov. 22, 2016 | Updated 8:24 a.m. ET Nov. 28, 2016
Santa Claus uses both hands as he waves to the crowd during the parade in 2013.(Photo: Mike Tripp/The News Leader)Buy Photo
STAUNTON - The Staunton Christmas Parade draws kids of all ages from the Staunton community and surrounding area each year.
The streets are packed five deep with happy faces anticipating one of downtown's most popular events, said Julie Markowitz, director of the SDDA. Originally organized by the Retail Merchants Association in the late 1940s, the Staunton Parade is over 65 years old.
Participating entries include local high school and middle school bands, a variety of floats from churches and businesses, horses, motorcycle and car clubs, fire and rescue vehicles, pageant winners, dance groups, school and civic groups and scouts.
Staunton's annual Christmas parade in 2013. (Photo: Mike Tripp/The News Leader)
"The Christmas Parade really is a total representation of our community," said Markowitz.
The Christmas Parade is led each year by the Staunton Police Department, the VWIL Cadet Corps from Mary Baldwin University and this year's Grand Marshal, Scrooge from the American Shakespeare Center's "A Christmas Carol."
The parade acts as the official Staunton welcome for Santa Claus, who will arrive on a fire engine provided by the Staunton Fire Department.
The marching band for Robert E. Lee High School warms up before the start of last year's Staunton Christmas parade. (Photo: Mike Tripp/The News Leader)
"Parade magic is a huge community collaboration. It takes literally thousands of volunteers to bring it together," said Markowitz. The participating groups build and transport floats and performers practice for weeks in advance, to make the parade memorable.
Each year beginning in August, the Staunton Downtown Development Association begins recruiting participants and encourages sign-ups until early November, receiving about 100-110 entries, according to Markowitz.
Staunton-Waynesboro-Augusta holiday guide
The SDDA works in partnership with over 30 Staunton Kiwanis and Key Club volunteers. Since 1991, the Kiwanis have marshaled the parade, advised the SDDA about the lineup and placement of entries and trafficked the entries as they move through the parade route.
"They walk the entire route to measure and mark off the streets so that the lineup is logical and efficient," said Markowitz. "The parade would not happen without their dedication."
"Our club is about the use of the community," said Kiwanis' David Didawick. "The kids enjoy the parade who are in it and watching. We do it for children in the community."
Each year, the Pampered Palate treats the Kiwannis to a parade after-party to thank them for their hard work. They also provide treats for the parade judges.
People march in the downtown Staunton Christmas Parade. (Photo: Katie Currid/The News Leader)
Many entries compete for trophies awarded by the SDDA and are judged by a panel of local judges in seven categories: small business (five employees or less), large business (plus five employees), musical/dance performance, children's/youth group, religious organization/church, nonprofit/civic organization and the judges' favorite. Winners are publicized in The News Leader and trophies are awarded after the parade.
The Public Works Department sets the stage with the snowflake décor installation. The city of Staunton also provides police support and they place out cones and close the streets on parade day. They assist with directing traffic throughout the evening to keep it safe for everyone.
"The city allows our friends and neighbors to reserve their favorite spot on the parade route," said Markowitz. "Chairs begin showing up on Beverley Street as early as 10 a.m.!"
The parade route will go down North Augusta Street on to Frederick then Market and finally to Beverley Street. Enter downtown via Johnson Street when attending the parade, especially after 5 p.m. There's plenty of free parking at the New Street and Johnson Street garages and The Wharf parking lot.
Bring a toy. WHSV's Toy Convoy will be collecting toys for the Salvation Army.
From cotton fluff and poster to Christmas Parade float
IF YOU GO!
What Staunton Christmas Parade
When 7 p.m. Monday, Nov. 28
Where Beverley Street, Staunton
More info www.stauntondowntown.org
Read or Share this story: http://www.newsleader.com/story/entertainment/2016/11/22/staunton-christmas-parade-magical-main-street-staunton/94228548/
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Get a clearer picture of the life of Christ and His ministry here on earth–as presented in the pages of your New Testament — through these beautifully illustrated Bible lessons produced and made available by The Bible Project. These enjoyable videos and corresponding lesson activities were specifically chosen for inclusion in our Online Bible Study curriculum because we believe they will help our students draw closer to the Lord Jesus, understand more clearly the nature of His ministry, and be better equipped for more meaningful ministry and service in the kingdom of God.
* PLEASE NOTE: All "advanced level" Online Bible Study courses are password protected. You may request the advanced level password when you have completed the three Introductory Lessons – 1.) God is Love, 2.) Saving Love, 3.) Life Changing Love (see home page – course selections). If you have completed the introductory lessons and have your password, we invite and encourage you to enroll in "The Story of Jesus" course!
All our Online Bible Studies, and other ministerial services, are offered to you free of charge — without any cost or other obligation on your part.


I show you how to shoot raw photos with the iPhone 7 and 7 Plus. This is key because Apple promised being able to take RAW photos...but they lied. You can take raw photos with the iPhone 7 and 7 Plus but with third party apps. In this video I am using ProCamera that allows a user to take photos using JPEG, tiff and RAW/DNG settings. Check out how easy it is!


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