The home was unkempt and rubbish was littered all over the floor. Dirty nappies were piled up in a corner of the room, which made the room have an awful stench. None of Jacksons bottles were being sterilised before use, and the water that was to make up the formula was tap water….straight from the tap and unboiled."

    

    Life was no bed of roses. The Bernardinis stayed in a room and kitchen, where young Walter slept in the bed recess in the front room. His Mum and Dad, meanwhile, had a 'hole-in-the-wall' bed in the kitchen. There was no bath, only one downstairs toilet shared by two other families. Glaswegians in those days may not have had much money, but they made up for the lack of material possessions with a real live of life. There was never a dull moment, at home, on the streets or at school. In this compelling book, the author fondly reminisces about first footing, wedding scrambles, winchin' in the close, nights at the pictures, the trams, trips with the Scouts, wartime evacuation and much more. It is a scintillating slice of social history, full of warmth and humour. For the sake of his career, Walter Bernardini eventually left Scotland, taking his wife and family with him. Yet he has never forgotten the city of his birth, the place that shaped him, the place he still thinks of as home. These were truly his dear old Glasgow years'.

    Financially we were afloat and we lived in a perfectly decent house until my wife came up with the zany idea of living on a boat. I'd just got home from work, via the pub, when Jan asked me to watch a video while she prepared our frugal meal. I watched a pair of old fogies trundling along a canal in the rain on a narrowboat. You can imagine my reply when she asked if I fancied emulating the sodden wrinklies and taking to the water. She's a lady of vision and determination (she married me after all) but this was elevating madness to a whole new level. Jan's oncologist had her a few years previously that she probably wouldn't see the new millennium, so she had a different perspective about the future than many people. Despite lots of huffing and head-shaking, twelve months later we had sold a perfectly respectable house, given up a job that kept us in cornflakes and moved onto a metal hole less than a tenth the size of our house – excluding garden. It was the 4th July 2003 – independence day.We knew nothing about narrowboats – their workings, waterways lore and how we would cope being cooped up together – particularly when it's minus five and the nearest shop is miles away. We had a mountain to climb – which you can only do by using locks, and we'd never done a lock. A more accurate analogy is shooting the rapids because our venture took on a life of it's own and we were washed down stream on a tide of enthusiasm and ignorance. We had to make it work or the people who had laughed and scoffed would be proved right – we really were mad. Well, make it work we did, and we're still boating twelve years on. It's marvellous and it possibly saved Jan's life.

    

    

    Black Cat 2-1 is the story of one pilot who made it home and the valiant men he served with who risked their lives for the troops on the ground. Bob Ford invites readers into the Huey helicopters he flew on more than 1,000 missions when he and his men dared to protect and rescue. For those whose voices were silenced in that faraway place or who have never told their stories, he creates a tribute that reads like a thriller, captures the humor of men at war, and resounds with respect for those who served with honor.

    “I am very unwell,” he confided to a close acquaintance. A vast and terrible civil war was winding down, leaving momentous questions for a war-weary president to address. A timely invitation from General U. S. Grant provided the impetus for an escape to City Point, Virginia, a journey from which Abraham Lincoln drew much more than he ever expected. Lincoln’s Greatest Journey: Sixteen Days that Changed a Presidency, March 24 – April 8, 1865, by Noah Andre Trudeau offers the first comprehensive account of a momentous time.Lincoln traveled to City Point, Virginia, in late March 1865 to escape the constant interruptions in the nation’s capital that were carrying off a portion of his “vitality,” and to make his personal amends for having presided over the most destructive war in American history in order to save the nation. Lincoln returned to Washington sixteen days later with a renewed sense of purpose, urgency, and direction that would fundamentally shape his second term agenda.Previous coverage of this unprecedented trip―his longest break from the White House since he had taken office―has been sketchy at best, and often based on seriously flawed sources. Lincoln’s Greatest Journey represents the most extensively researched and detailed story of these decisive sixteen days at City Point in a narrative laden with many heretofore unpublished accounts. The richly shaped prose, a hallmark of Trudeau’s pen, rewrites much of the heretofore misunderstood story of what really happened to Lincoln during this time.A fresh, more complete picture of Lincoln emerges. This is Lincoln at a time of great personal and national change―the story of how he made peace with the past and became firmly future-focused, all set against a dramatically new narrative of what really happened during those last weeks of his life. It infuses the well-worn Lincoln narrative with fresh sources to fundamentally change an often-told story in ways large and small. Rather than treat Lincoln as a dead man walking when he returns to Washington, Trudeau paints him as he surely was―a changed man profoundly influenced by all that he experienced while at City Point.Lincoln’s Greatest Journey represents an important addition to the Lincoln saga. The conventional wisdom that there’s nothing new to be learned about Lincoln is due for a major reset.

    I have no idea if it is part of the dream, a hallucination, or reality. It talks of children, bringing news of a girl called Grace who loves me very much and a new baby boy called Freddie, who apparently needs me to get better... It stirs a part of me, even in my coma, reminding me that I'm thirty-eight and in love with the most beautiful woman in the world. It tells me that one third of me is gone but what's left is enough; that the thing is, above all, to survive.' When Tom Ray put his young daughter to bed one chilly December evening, he had everything he could ever want - the house of his dreams, a beautiful wife and a second baby on the way. By the next morning all of this was in jeopardy as Tom succumbed to the devastating illness that is sepsis.Starfish tells Tom and Nic Ray's truly inspirational story of their life before, during and after the illness which claimed Tom's lower arms, legs, and a portion of his face. Heart-breakingly honest and affecting, their story charts the devastating effects of Tom's illness, Nic's heroic struggle to cope and, ultimately, the love and hope that has held their family together in the ensuing years. A tragic yet beautiful tale of a couple whose love is tested to its limit after their perfect life falls apart in a single moment.

    I lived through and beyond horrific child abuse. This book tells of my brutal beginnings, starting when I was only four years old when my mother went in to hospital to have baby number three. My clothing was stripped off by my father, who hung me upside down naked on a hook on the inside of a cupboard door by the ankles. He beat me with his huge hands, then only took me down once I stopped screaming. He then plunged me into a pre prepared bath full of cold water, where I almost drowned. Even although he was holding me under the water, and I was thrashing about and fighting my young life, I could hear my drunken father laughing at me. My abuse and ridicule follows me through my school years, and has a major impact on my mental health. My family grew until I had six siblings all living with me in a two bedroom cottage. I was never acknowledged as a son by my violent father, I was the outcast, the one who brought shame to the family, and I was the devils child. This is the true story of a childhood lost, and the struggles to overcome the mental anguish afflicted on me throughout my young life. This story will take the reader on a painful journey as I move with my siblings around Scotland, from house to house, and school to school, always just evading the authorities who could have helped me. This story leaves nothing to the readers’ imagination. There are some lighter moments throughout the book which will make the reader laugh, but my story will make you wonder how I survived, and what does happen behind closed doors. Even although I am now over 60 years old, I often sometimes mourn my stolen childhood, it is like a limb has been pulled off, I can feel where it was supposed to be but it is just not there, it is a part of me which I will never get back, it was taken away without my consent and is now lost forever. Sometimes it just hits me out of nowhere, an overwhelming sadness and emptiness rushes over me. I get disheartened and I feel hopeless, sad, and hurt, and once again I feel numb to the world.

    A young man older than most, he went on to do his duty when called. Mr. Jackel was one of many in the generation that truthfully saved the world and made it a much better place for those who would become his children and grandchildren. In Lucky Infantryman, Eddie Jackel spins a wonderful story of great historical significance. This is an account every American should read. In the telling of his time in training for and in going to war, Ed Jackel does not glorify the events, does not politicize. He merely tells a soldier’s story with all the genuineness and grit of growing up in America and being called on to do the seemingly impossible. This narrative is important for the historians of our times and the future. Eddie Jackel, an average American from the Lower East Side, one of many young men from all over the United States, captures the essence and flavor of America in the mid 1940s. To Eddie Jackel, and all the others who served, we say, “Thank you.”

    Just a few short months later, he found himself confined to a wheelchair. But rather than succumbing to the darkness that threatened to overwhelm him in the days after his diagnosis, he drew on his powerful faith and unwavering belief in life and found a way to light, hope and acceptance.From growing up in Fairview, to serving in the dioceses in Ballymun and later Mount Merrion and Kilmacud, and his charity work while in UCD, Fr Tony takes us on the journey of his life and shows us how, through this devastating illness, he came to know the true meaning and nature of God's love.Sadly, Tony passed away on the 28 August 2019 but his memoir and his message of hope, strength and unwavering faith live on.'Our lives will never be measured in words spoken or success achieved but rather how we live and how our life has affected those around us.' Fr Tony Coote

    At the time, he would have done anything to escape; only upon reflection years later did he realize that the self-confidence instilled in him by his drill instructors had probably saved his life in Vietnam. A few months after boot camp, Private Ball was shipped out to Vietnam, joining F Company, 2nd Battalion, 3rd Marines, near Khe Sanh. As a grunt, in the vernacular of the Corps, Ball, like the other youths of F Company, did a difficult and deadly job in such places as the A Shau Valley, Leatherneck Square, the DMZ and other obscure but critical I Corps locales. His--their--fear of death mingled with homesickness. Little did they realize that the horrors of the Vietnam War--horrors that while in-country they often claimed did not even exist--would haunt them for the rest of their lives.

    He was a jealous man, who beat her up repeatedly; even when she was pregnant with Jill. She was only nineteen and a half when Jill was born. By the time Jill was two and a half, the marriage had ended. When Jill was around four years old, a much worse man had entered both of their lives; only this time, it was Jill who was the one being beaten. It meant nothing to her stepfather to beat her up around three times a week. He killed several beloved pets and made them eat one and also a neighbour’s pet that was found in their garden. Jill always had felt that she was loved and wanted by her mother, who had been an alcoholic since she had left school. However, when her stepfather sexually abused Jill, that was all to change. After some years of festering her rage and two breakdowns, Jill’s mother’s hate became far worse than what her stepfather had dished out. Jill became the family slave and was told daily how much her mother despised her for actually ‘allowing’ herself to be abused. Her mother also started asking the family who liked who, round the dinner table. They all cheered each other but when Jill’s name was called out, they all booed. That hurt Jill more than all of the beatings put together; though she knew her brother and sister did love her deep down and often told her so. It was just their own survival that made them join in. Jill takes you through her life, step by step, as she seeks emotional healing. She had a faith that helped but that got changed to almost unrecognisable over time. In fact, the beliefs that she once held dear, along with her very difficult upbringing, eventually drove her over the edge to a very nasty breakdown. Only when she had hit rock bottom though, did she find the solace she had long been searching for and the healing that came with it. This is not a bitter tale; in fact, it might surprise you how understanding Jill actually is. There are many good times, as well as bad in this book. You will find certain parts quite amusing, as she focuses on those happier times, as well as the bad. That makes this book quite a refreshing and even an uplifting read. Jill has a special knack of explaining things, that you can almost feel as if you are right there with her. Note: Some names have been changed to protect the privacy of individuals.

    Written in his own hand from the day he signed up in October 1939 as a trainee pilot to the day he was ‘demobbed’ in October 1945, this poignant and often riveting diary by Squadron Leader Douglas Greaves D.F.C and Bar, records, in typical understated RAF style, the minutiae of everyday life in the services, as well as the horror he and his comrades endured and the heroism they all displayed.