Conac Devlin

Henry was murdered by racist police policy’s, that target white people. 6pm tonight Southampton police station. See you there.

At seventy-nine, I live alone. And for the first time in my life, I feel completely at peace. When people hear that, I notice the look in their eyes. A softness. A kind of pity. They ask gently: “Don’t you get lonely?” “Isn’t the silence hard?” I always smile. Because living alone is not the same as being lonely. My name is Angela. I’m seventy-nine years old, and I live in the same apartment that once overflowed with noise — children running through the hallway, doors slamming, laughter from the kitchen, voices talking over one another at dinner. I was a wife. I was a mother. I was the person who remembered everything. Appointments. Birthdays. Groceries. Medicines. The small invisible tasks that quietly hold a family together. I gave my life to the people I loved, and I do not regret it. But I also carried a tiredness I never spoke about. Then my husband died. After that, everyone worried about me. “You shouldn’t live alone.” “You need someone to take care of you.” “You should stay with your children.” I know those words came from love. But hidden inside them was another idea: that a woman my age could not possibly enjoy solitude. That silence must mean sadness. At first, even I wondered if something was wrong with me for liking the quiet. Then one morning, standing by the window with a cup of coffee in my hands, watching strangers hurry through an ordinary gray morning, I realized something that changed me completely: I had not been abandoned by life. I had finally been returned to myself. Now I wake when my body is ready. I cook what I want. I rest when I’m tired. Some days I speak to no one at all — and yet I feel full, not empty. I read. I walk. I watch old films. I sit with my thoughts without rushing to escape them. The silence no longer frightens me. It comforts me. My children have their own lives now, and that is exactly how it should be. I raised them to become independent adults, not lifelong caretakers of my happiness. Of course I still feel nostalgia sometimes. I miss certain voices. Certain moments. Certain versions of life that no longer exist. But nostalgia is not the same thing as regret. What I feel most now is peace. The peace of no longer needing to prove anything. The peace of having spent decades caring for others and finally learning how to care for myself. The peace of understanding that solitude can be a gift instead of a punishment. So when people still ask me, “Angela… doesn’t the night scare you?” I answer honestly: No. Silence is not my enemy. It is my home. And here, at last, I feel free.

Just about every one of these luxury items had been delivered to Nicola Sturgeon's home but she didn't notice anything and knew nothing...

I need to talk about my neighbors because I have been holding this in for too long. They had a birthday party this weekend. For one of their kids. In their backyard. I counted six children and two adults. There were balloons. There was a cake on a folding table. It lasted maybe two hours in the middle of the afternoon. And I am sorry but who is going to tell people that you cannot just do this. The noise. Six children making the sound that six children make. For two hours. On a Saturday. I had things I wanted to do in my own home and instead I had to listen to a party I was not invited to and would not have attended anyway. The cars. Two extra cars parked on the street near my house. On the public street, yes, but near my house, which means in front of the area I consider to be my general zone. And the balloons. One of them came loose and drifted into my yard and I had to be the one to deal with a stray balloon on my own property because of a party that had nothing to do with me. They did not warn me. No note, no heads up, no hey we are having a small thing on Saturday. They just decided to have a celebration in a yard that shares a fence with mine and let me find out about it by hearing it. If you are going to host an event, even a small one, the neighbors should be consulted. We share an environment. My Saturday is part of that environment and they spent it without asking. I am aware some people will say it was just a kids birthday party. To those people I would say it is never just anything when it affects the people around you.

A mother seal gives birth and believes her baby is gone. Then what happens is nothing less than a miracle. Pup moves and she realizes the pup is alive... and her joy is unforgettable.

This 2,000-year-old olive tree in Puglia, Italy is called "The Thinking Tree" by locals. Photo by Nicola Di Tinco

Such a big, bad, looking tough guy! Until the needle gets close to him. 🤣🤣🤣

Today, being the first day of Meteorological Summer, I bring you the covers of the 4 seasons books. But which is your favourite? My favourite season is Spring (but my favourite of these books is probably Autumn) Artist: CF Tunnicliffe

This is the Amazon river dolphin, also known as the pink dolphin, the largest freshwater dolphin species in the world

Peter Murrell bought a motorhome. Collected it in a commercial business centre, drove it 4 miles to his parents, locked it up and walked away. Never used it. This is surely problem spending patterns.

The way he puts his little paws behind his back to mimic the keeper is pure genius. He's got that "retired and taking a morning stroll" energy down perfectly!

Segundo a lenda, em uma cidade francesa durante a Idade Média, as mulheres realizavam um hábito curioso. De manhã, as mulheres casadas adicionavam uma pequena quantidade de veneno no café da manhã de seus maridos, que mais tarde recebiam o antídoto quando voltavam para casa à noite. Isso garantia que o veneno não os prejudicasse e não tivesse efeitos negativos. A prática tinha um propósito específico: se os maridos demorassem em retornar para casa, os sintomas como náuseas, dores de cabeça, depressão, vômitos, dores ou falta de ar apareceriam devido ao atraso na administração do antídoto. Quanto mais tempo o homem passasse longe de casa, mais doente ele ficaria. Ao retornar para casa, a esposa inadvertidamente administrava o antídoto, fazendo com que ele se sentisse melhor rapidamente. Esse truque dava a impressão de que ficar longe de casa causaria desconforto e levava os maridos a se apegarem mais às suas casas e esposas.