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What is the Mexican Day of the Dead (Día de los Muertos)?
On 1st and 2nd of November, Mexico celebrates its Day of the Dead (Día de los Muertos). This is a festival that begins on 28th October and ends on a public holiday on 2nd November. During this time, Mexicans believe that the deceased have permission from God to visit friends and relatives on earth, and once again enjoy the pleasures of life. It isn’t seen as a time of sadness and mourning but as a celebration of life.
Where Does the Tradition Come From?
The Aztecs believed that death was just a part of the circle of life and offered gifts to the goddess Mictecacihuatl (“Lady of the Dead”) for deceased children and adults. This tradition was incorporated into the Catholic celebration of All Saint’s Day and All Soul’s Day when the Spanish conquered the country. You might know All Saint’s Day by its other name – Halloween!
Ducklings in Disguise
You know the story of the Ugly Duckling of course, who didn’t look like his family but grew into a beautiful swan? Well, this is a true story of three little chicks who are going to grow into beautiful ducks, as told by Susannah Leigh.
It all started when my friend Nic’s very favourite chicken, Rosie became broody. Rosie laid some eggs and sat on them very carefully for a very long time. But the eggs didn’t hatch and Nic realised that they were probably never going to. Sometimes they just don’t.
Poor Rosie – all that patient waiting for nothing.
Who Invented Denim Jeans?
If you’re anything like me, you’ll live in denim jeans when you’re not at school– they’re comfy, practical and come in loads of different styles, colours and designs. I’ve also got a denim jacket, which is perfect for throwing on over dresses when it’s cold outside. Even denim gilets come in and out of fashion on a pretty regular basis.
I think it’s pretty safe to say that denim has become something of a wardrobe staple over the years and in fact, I don’t really know what I’d do without it. But jeans haven’t always looked the way they do now and trends have changed a lot over the years.
A Short Story – Concrete
Cold, rough concrete beneath my burnt yellow hands, ash under my nails. I hold the butt of an already smoked cigarette in my mouth, looking hopeless. Not even the phrase, “Any spare change?” will get anybody to notice me, the old tramp of Brixton, sitting on the side of a busy main road. Every day I get unhelpful comments from young school kids, such as, “The local druggie! Ha, ha, ha…” These don’t make me feel better. It’s not my fault I’m unemployed, homeless and either drunk or high most of the time. Or is it?
People ask me how on earth I find all the money to buy over fifty cans of beer a week and a rather large variety of harmful grasses from drug-dealers. Sometimes I wonder too. I’ve only ever stolen something once. Twice then. OK! I’ve stolen eight times! Where else am I supposed to get money from (not including vulnerable children’s purses)? But, I’ve been thinking… Maybe, just maybe, it would be a slight possibility – just a slight one – that I could consider starting afresh. By ‘afresh’ I mean a new life in which I give up all my addictions, that are slowly rotting my bones, and make lasting friendships, that won’t break. Ever.
Woolly JUMP(ers)! Sheep Shearing in Scotland
