Hero Police Officer Sprints to Save a Baby
Police Officer Steve Norton was on patrol in London when he responded to a 999 call, reporting that a baby had stopped breathing.
When he arrived at the caller’s house just minutes later, he found baby Harrison Paine unresponsive and clearly in need of urgent medical attention.
Harrison’s mother Jo, who had only brought him home from hospital, days earlier, discovered he had stopped breathing as he lay in his cot.
Despite the fact he was wearing full police body armour, he managed to get there in enough time to allow the medics to stabilise Harrison and save his life.
Describing the horrifying moment she realised her son was not breathing, Ms Paine said: “My world crashed before my eyes. He hadn’t woken up for his feed, his skin had turned grey and his eyes were still.
“I immediately lay him on my bed and starting chest compressions and rescue…
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Merry Christmas?
Christmas is a time for peaceful reflection. A time to put away petty grievances, and instead focus on the things that truly matter, like enjoying the company of family and friends.
All things considered, the differences between the left and right in this country aren’t really all that vast. But we tend to forget this when we’re in the thick of battle.
So this Christmas let’s take time to contemplate the things that unite us, rather than focusing on division and conflict.
It doesn’t really matter who you are or who you voted for this year, and where you stand on the left-right spectrum. I wish each and every one of you peace, happiness and joy this Christmas.
Unless you are Cameron Slater. Or any of his Dirty Politics chums, for that matter. You people disgust me.
But Slater and co excepted, I wish you all the very best.
Unless…
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In Literature, Concealing and Revealing Torture
A few days ago, the New York Times ran an op-ed from a creative-writing instructor and confessed torturer:
“I was an interrogator at Abu Ghraib,” Eric Fair writes. “I tortured.”
But when Fair discusses his creative-writing class at Lehigh University — in conjunction with his experience as a torturer — he writes not about investigating Mahmoud Saeed’s “Lizard’s Colony” or perhaps scenes from Elias Khoury’s Yalo, but Tim O’Brien’s “The Things They Carried.” He writes about showing his students a cigar box filled with stuff he bought at the Baghdad International Airport.
Fair seems focused on keeping the issue of torture at the forefront of the American imagination, which is good. But in effect, by reading his essay, we are asked to sympathize exclusively with the torturer. We know about Eric Fair, and about his black fleece coat, and about his son, who rides a bus to school.
We don’t know about any…
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In Praise Of Decay (and against plastic)
In pale gold leaf-fall losing shape and edge
I walk each morning in some woodland near my home and especially savour in this late autumn, early winter season, the damp carpet of fallen leaves, now decaying and forming rich mulch that will feed the soil for future growth. Even in their decay, losing edge and shape, melding and blending together there is in this carpet of leaves, a kind of grace and beauty. The other morning though, these meditations were interrupted by a sudden intrusion. There amongst the gold and mottled leaf mould, like some harsh alien excrescence, was a discarded plastic bag. It was totally out of place and told its own tale of indifference and carelessness; not just the carelessness of the person that dropped it, but the carelessness of the culture that produced it. The trees shed their leaves, and in that fall and letting go achieve…
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New power
filpkart
New power
filpkart
tamwes 