#magda article

[alexbkrieger13]

These new FC Bayern stars only come in a double pack

The top soccer players Pernille Harder and Magdalena Eriksson are moving to Munich on July 1st. What connects the two privately and on the pitch.

On her first day on Grünwalder Strasse, Pernille Harder internalized what was faltering at FC Bayern Munich . She had hardly signed the new professional contract when the Danish record striker reminded the fans of the club's motto in Bavarian: "Mia san mia!" Interestingly, "mia" is short for "billion" in Danish. The FCB men's squad is worth almost a billion, but as is well known, it has often lacked the much-vaunted Munich feeling of togetherness. 

Just as close as the men, the women's team of the record champions also won their fifth title this year, but with significantly less noise. In the 2023/2024 season, the championship is again the declared goal of the women - and in 30-year-old Pernille Harder they have signed one of the best offensive players in the world. She doesn't come alone: ​​Swedish defensive expert Magdalena Eriksson, Harder's partner, has also signed a professional contract with FC Bayern until 2026 . Both were previously on the pitch at Chelsea, winning the English Championship and the FA Women's Cup with the Blues. 

Harder and Eriksson are used to playing together – privately since 2014, twice in the same team on the pitch: in 2016 they won the Swedish championship with Linköpings FC, in 2020 Harder followed her friend to London .

She knows the Bundesliga from her time at VfL Wolfsburg: Between 2017 and 2020, Harder shot the Wolves to the championship and the cup four times. When she moved to London, she was the most expensive soccer player in the world at a transfer fee of 330,000 euros. Both players are coming to Bayern Munich on a free transfer.

Leaving Chelsea was a tearful one, especially for Magdalena Eriksson. For four years she was captain of the blues. When she was presented with the framed jersey with the number 16 in the Kingsmeadow stadium with its 4,800 seats in mid-May, the 29-year-old lost her voice. "I love you guys," she said to the fans, "and I want to say thank you for everything." It's good that her friend was standing next to her at that moment, grabbing the microphone and completing the parting words. Since the time at Chelsea, the two have only been in a double pack. "It means a lot to me that we can move here together and stay together," said Harder in Munich , "we already had a long-distance relationship, we don't want that again."

Off the pitch, Harder and Eriksson campaign for LGBTIQ rights

The sporting director of the FCB women, Bianca Rech, is convinced that these two can "make the difference" in the Munich game. Harder and Eriksson are also "incredible personalities" off the pitch. Anyone who follows them on Instagram knows about their commitment to LGBTIQ rights. Incidentally, her beliefs flow into the posts, Eriksson wears them as a tattoo on his shoulder. "We are all human and we shouldn't judge anyone," it says in Swedish. Among her followers is world-famous British top model Cara Delevingne , herself a queer activist. In addition to the square, the boulevard has long since discovered the two, but the couple rarely gets involved in advertising deals and photo shoots:in pink tulle skirts and hoodies. They have been moderating the talk show “The Hangout” for Sky Sports since 2022. Soccer stars like Megan Rapinoe talk about their experiences as queer athletes. 

In the Bundesliga, both also want to develop individually. "Seeing the German national team play at the European Championships last summer shows how the Bundesliga is developing"Harder says in the welcome video on Bayern's YouTube channel. "I'm excited to be back in the league." Her partner has no experience of the Bundesliga. In European football, however, she is a star and was nominated for the Ballon d'Or in 2021 and was voted into the Women's World Cup that same year, which she attributes to her hunger for wins: "One of my greatest talents as a footballer is that I've always had this urge to constantly improve", says Eriksson in the video. "Taking on a new challenge only makes me hungrier for success and for learning more." But she can also be modest: "Coming into a new football culture and a new team, that makes me humble."

[scvlly]

I don’t give a fuck about Morrissey or the smiths but him calling out the celebrity tributes to Sinead o Connor is absolutely correct

"You hadn’t the guts to support her when she was alive and she was looking for you.”

[magdasabs]

Teammates praise Kerr: "One of the best in the world"

Sweden vs Australia. Then Sam Kerr is praised by her Swedish teammates. - One of the world's best players in my opinion, says Zecira Musovic.  

Sweden faces Australia, away in Melbourne, on Saturday morning. It will be the third time they have faced "The Matildas" since last year.  

This means that Tony Gustavsson's gang with Sam Kerr at the head is a team that Blågult has a good grasp of.  

- It feels like we faced Australia like ten times in the last two years, says Nathalie Björn and laughs before she continues: 

- It's a team we're used to. A good team with many players out in Europe, it will be a tough match and I think it is a good football team, so I am looking forward to the match 

And there is a strong attacking threat – one of the world's sharpest finishers, Sam Kerr, who plays for Chelsea every day, will be on the opposing side. In the club she plays with Zecira Musovic, Magdalena Eriksson and Johanna Rytting Kaneryd. And the Swedish players pay tribute to their teammate ahead of Saturday's meeting.  

- It's going to be really fun. It is a player who is incredibly skilled, maybe the best player in the world in my opinion with all her qualities. It will be incredibly fun to play against her, we have played a lot with her so it will be fun to play against her, says Musovic.  

What would you say are her main strengths? - She works extremely hard on the pitch and scores important goals. Absolutely the best in the world with its main game.  

Eriksson joins the chorus of praise. 

- She is an incredibly difficult player to stop and it is important to look at her before and be prepared for what her strengths are and see how we can best play against her as a unit. Perhaps above all as in the back line, she says and continues: 

- She has many good qualities. But her speed and deep play becomes visible in counterattacks mostly because there are surfaces to run on. Incredibly quick and adept at spotting where the surfaces are to develop them. Her box game and main game in general is very good, she is good at outwitting her opponents in the box and is explosive. Can jump high and has very good timing in the main game.

How excited are you to see a backflip? - I really hope I won't. She just says she usually wants to do that when she knows we're really going to win a game. So let's hope it doesn't go that far on Saturday.  

[darklydeliciousdesires]

For the Love of Dogs - An Alfie & Beth Solomons One Shot Story.

I think writing that long overdue check in with these two made me realise how bloody much I'd missed them, besties. Here, another installment in their story. I do hope I will have more ideas for further stories to follow :)

Words - 7,890

Warnings - Mention of death, but lots of fluff!

She entered the house on complete, brain disengaged autopilot, her outstretched finger finding the keypad to the alarm system, punching the code in and then simply standing in the welcome hall, a home much, much too quiet for her liking. The heaviness of it squeezed her heart, sniffing hard, rubbing her thumb over the soft leather of his collar. A collar now redundant.  

Her beloved Cyril. Their beloved Cyril.  

“Come ‘ere, darlin’.” Beth wouldn’t have been able to get through it, the last goodbye with their faithful family dog, without her husband at her side. Sinking into the comforting bulk of Alfie’s embrace, she wept against his chest, hearing him sniffing back further tears of his own. He hadn’t been afraid to cry as they’d both sat out on the grass behind the veterinary surgery, Cyril wrapped in soft blankets in a dog bed provided by the staff, the birds tweeting as they’d told him how he was loved, how much of a good boy he was.  

The gargantuan mastiff had taken his last breaths feeling warm, calm and safe, his mum and dad right there with him. Thirteen years had come to a peaceful end as loving hands stroked his soft fur, leaving a hole behind in the lives of his family that far eclipsed his own huge size.  

“If it’s anything to you, thirteen is simply unheard of for a Bullmastiff to reach. You both cared for him exceptionally well, truly.” the kind vet had offered sympathetically. She’d also been the one to suggest they put him to sleep outside, a practice that they’d had to develop over the Covid-19 lockdown, and one she now offered as a much nicer alternative to pets being euthanised upon a table, in a room so many of them felt anxiety towards.  

The children were with their auntie Magda, their parents feeling it best they didn’t attend. It was heartbreaking enough for them as two adults; it would have been much too upsetting for the little ones to witness. Abe and Flora had said their goodbyes to him earlier that morning, sitting with him in their pyjamas, Beth calling the school and explaining they would not be attending on account of the event that afternoon, explaining she felt they would be too upset and distracted to concentrate in class. Luckily, the secretary had been understanding.  

Instead, Magda had booked a day off work and taken them out to keep their minds off it, Thorpe Park being her chosen destination for them to visit. “Ain’t no bother at all, sweet. I could do having a day with me kids, unwind a bit. Poor little mites. Don’t you worry at all, and I don’t want no money, either. I’m treating them, whatever they want, they get.” Beth had been eternally grateful to her children’s godmother for her kind assistance.  

Venturing into the house, Alfie pulled her wine bottle from the rack when they reached the kitchen, pouring out two glasses. He seldom drank, but felt like he needed something in that moment. His heart was truly broken, to be without the loving dog he’d had in his life for so long. Watching girlfriends come and go, his business empire going from strength to strength, meeting the woman who would eventually become his wife, adding children to their family, it had all been with Cyril by his side. 

His loss was profound, sitting down at the island, passing a glass to Beth. “To the best bloody dog who ever was, baby beast.” They chinked glasses, smiling sadly as they remembered Cyril fondly. Their first child, as they always called him. Beth still hadn’t released her grip upon his collar, and for the rest of the afternoon she held onto it, thumb still stroking the leather. 

“Would it be wrong of me if I decided to blow off my article and get pissed out of my face?”  

Alfie’s smile tilted his lips, reaching to stroke her face. “Nah, treacle. Did Mags say she was taking the nippers for dinner an’ all while they’re out?” 

“Yeah, she just texted me, actually. They’re currently at TGI Friday’s awaiting a plethora of their favourite foods.” She smiled at the thought, knowing how Magda loved it there just as much as the kids. “I don’t feel much like cooking for you and I, though.” 

“Ain’t no bother to me, darlin’. I was gonna suggest we order from that new Italian place we like. I ain’t much in the mood for eating, but a bit later I could probably see off a piece of that lasagne they do. Tell you what, why don’t you go for a nice, long soak in the bath. I’ve got a few calls I need to make anyway.” 

She took him up on his suggestion, kissing him before sliding from her seat, placing a kiss upon the collar still in her hand, too, before putting it up on one of the shelves behind the breakfast nook. She’d get to putting away all of Cyril’s other belongings at some point, but couldn’t face it right then. His bed they’d had to throw away that morning, the dog having an unfortunate bladder accident upon it. It had sealed to them that they were doing the right thing in putting him to sleep.  

His toys remained, Beth looking at them mournfully where they sat in the basket for that storage purpose, deciding to move them to a place the kids wouldn’t see upon their return. Picking up his plush frog, she couldn’t resist sniffing it, smelling his lovely fur upon it, her eyes filling with tears all over again. They had decided to have him cremated, the vet advising that his ashes should be back within the next ten days. She knew she’d be in floods all over again then, too.  

Trudging up the stairs, she felt weary with grief, knowing that she had to brighten by the time the children got back, for their sakes. She was expecting them to be upset, returning to a house without Cyril in it, although Magda had stated during various text check ins throughout the day that they seemed to be taking it well. Thorpe Park had proven to be a good distraction, it seemed.  

While the bath ran, she tidied up her little office area, smiling as always when her eye was caught by the framed article from The Times, her very first being published within the newspaper. It had been a gift from Alfie upon her moving in with him. She could scarcely believe it had been ten years since her move into St Mark’s House. It sometimes still felt like ten weeks ago.  

The smell of her Jo Malone bath oil caught her nose as she shuffled the last stack of papers, the notes of English pear and freesia crisp in their aroma, Beth stripping off her white shirt and jeans, placing them into the laundry hamper. “Need to get a load of laundry done.” she noted to herself, seeing the basket just over half full. It could wait.  

The hot water provided a nice, comforting surround of relaxation, her eyes flitting over to the wall by the stained-glass windows, once again viewing her paint swatch choices. She tired of white, wanting something a little different for the space. So far, the smoky blue was a definite front runner, but she also did favour the deep, mustard yellow, almost a dark gold in hue. Hmm. She’d live with the dashes of paint a little longer before deciding. The pink which Flora has suggested was a definite no.  

Once done, she got out, dressing in her favourite, comfortable loungewear set, heading back downstairs. The doorbell sounded just as she was about to head to the kitchen, her path swerved back out towards the front door.  

“She fell asleep about half an hour away,” Magda whispered, passing a sleeping Flora into her mother’s arms, kissing her cheek. She turned, giving her to a suddenly present Alfie, her husband stating that he would see to putting them straight to bed since Abe also looked shattered. “Got bellies full of pizza and chicken wings, they have. Had a right ole’ feast, we did. I swear, I reckon I’ve put on a bleedin’ stone and I only had the Jack Daniel’s chicken!” She then paused, reaching for Beth’s face, her thumb skimming the apple. “Bloody horrid, ain’t it? Coming back to a house without ‘em in it.” 

Of course, Magda understood the pain only too well, losing her beloved Claus only five months before to cancer. Luckily for her and Dennis, at least they still had Marley and Karma. She nipped that little slither of envy immediately, though. “It is, mate. It really is.”  

“Well, I know it ain’t much, but I got you a little something.” Reaching into her gorgeous Fendi tote, Magda pulled out a bottle of her favourite Casamigos tequila, handing it over with a smile. 

“Awww babe, love you,” Beth cooed, giving her a kiss.  

“Love you too, sweet. Open it up, get nice an’ sloshed, and thank me later. Right, I better get moving, gotta go feed his highness and walk the pups.” 

“Thanks again for taking them today, Mags. You made a hard situation just that little bit easier,” she spoke fondly, Magda waving her hand. 

“I had a right good time with them, babe. Always do.” Beth waved to her from the door as she drove away, thinking herself so very lucky. A little while later, the doorbell trilled again, Alfie answering it that time. The cause was in his arms as he entered the lounge, handing her a gigantic bouquet of beautiful flowers.  

“Whoever sent these fuckin’ mugged off half the Chelsea flower show, bloody ‘ell!” he exclaimed as his wife took the blooms, pulling the card from the top.  

“Sending all our love to you, Alfie and the babies. We loved darling Cyril so much, too. Lots of love from Mimi and Kinga xxx” 

Her heart was beyond touched at the generosity of her girls, getting together like that for her to gift something so lovely in her grief. They understood, though, how dogs truly were family. Those surprises didn’t stop coming in the wake of Cyril’s passing either, Beth’s breakfast with her dear Oliver a few days later yielding another beautiful surprise.  

“I hope you don’t get upset, darling, but Brett and I wanted to do something nice in his memory, so this is for you.” He passed the brown paper Habitat bag across the table, Beth pulling out a well wrapped, rectangular shaped gift from within. Tearing open the chic wrapping paper, her throat pinched with emotion, seeing a beautiful black and white photograph of Cyril that Oliver’s husband had taken of him the previous summer, lying outside on the patio, looking so regal in the fading evening light. “Brett says he was the most photogenic dog he’s ever met, and I quite believe that to be true.” 

She couldn’t speak for a few moments, sniffing hard, flapping her hand as she swallowed the lump in her throat. “Thank you, sweetheart. I love you both so much,” she eventually managed, placing the framed picture down and exiting her seat to give him a huge hug. 

“And we love you too, baby. He was a splendid chap, old Cyril. Remember how scared of him I used to be, back when I first visited you at home? And then by the end of that night, he was sitting next to me on the sofa, resting his massive head on my shoulder?” His fond words sparked the memory, Cyril indeed taking to Oliver very much. 

She nodded, taking her seat again. “I do, yes. Gosh, it was so long ago. I remember when he first met Brett too...” 

“And humped the hell out of his leg!” Oliver finished, clapping his hands together with mirth. What he shouted, too! “Oh, my Jesus, he’s going to give me ligament damage! Queen down! Queen down!” Her emotional wobble was forgotten as she burst into hysterics, remembering Brett literally knocked to the floor while she’d wheezed, Oliver in tears, Alfie having to detach a rampant Cyril from the object of his affections. To Brett he had been known primarily as big gay dog ever since.  

They shared a few memories of him before their conversation moved on, both discussing work, Beth enthralled by his tales from New York Fashion Week, from where he had not long returned. He’d also brought with him another gift he alerted her to in the bag, some of her favourite American sweeties, two big bags of Milk Duds present when she looked again. How well he knew her.  

After breakfast, she had work commitments to attend, calling in at London Life and Style to discuss an article she’d submitted, her little sheen dented by the fact that the viper, also known as Madeline Arlington-Smith, had dissected it thoroughly.  

“I feel that if we leave this part out, this part too, it shall be more in accordance with the overall opinion and not merely a fanciful display of the world according to Beth Solomons.”  

She remembered back to being much more novice in her journalistic endeavours, seated in that very chair ten years before, taking the heat for an article Madeline had thoroughly given the bloodletting treatment to. It has preceded her first meet with her now husband, seeking refuge and Cabernet Sauvignon in a bar that belonged to him. “Then why on earth ask me to write the article, Madeline, if not from my own perspective?”  

“Because you are commenting on the zeitgeist from the perspective of your peers, not simply you, you, you. How does the subject make women of your age feel, what emotions does it drive, how does it affect you all on a whole? I would like a little more of that. We go to print in two weeks. Please have your corrections submitted within the next seven days.” 

The viper was not aware of it, but she narrowly avoided an outburst, Beth physically biting her tongue as she rose from her seat. “I will make sure of that.” Striding from the office, she felt her chest thickening, nodding and smiling at a few of the staffers as she passed them by on the way to the elevator. She knew it was because she was still raw over Cyril, she knew that, not being able to take her critique on the chin with her usual good nature. When she arrived home, though, she succumbed slightly. 

“That bloody bitch effing bloody woman!” 

Alfie raised his eyebrows, looking at her as he clicked a pen against his teeth. “Madeline’s well then, yeah?”  

“She’s right on bloody form, she is! Oy!”  

He chuckled at his wife’s continued exasperation, making a motion for her to take a seat on his lap. Welcoming her into his arms, he kissed her head, rubbing her back where she was tense. “How about I take you out for lunch, ay? Somewhere fancy, then we’ll go pick up the babies from school? I know you’re still heartbroken over Cyril, and as such you ain’t takin’ whatever the fuck the cobra woman told you...” 

“Viper,” she interjected with. 

He waved his hand dismissively. “Whatever the fuck they call her, she’s still a bloody snake, innit? So yeah, you ain’t taking it as good as you normally do, right, so let me take you out and get your mind off it.” 

Her face crept into a grin. “Can we go to Jean-Georges?"  

He could have guessed that’s where she’d request. “You bloody want caviar, don’t ya?” Her rapid nodding confirmed. It was only in the last few years that she’d really relaxed her moderately Kosher diet to such a degree, telling Alfie it was his influence, turning her into an equally bad Jew as he labelled himself. “Good job I’m worth a mint, innit? Fuckin’ wives and their disposition for pricey fish eggs, I dunno. Let me call Stace and see if she’s got a table.” 

Stace, or rather Stacy, was the Maitre'd at Jean-Georges at the Connaught, the hostess always taking good care of them when they visited, as she did with all of her exuberantly wealthy clients. “Stace! How are ya, flower? Yeah, ain’t bad, sweet, ain’t bad. Yeah, you gotta table for about an hour from now? You do? Lovely, treacle, yeah put me down, just me and the missus. Alright, love. See you in a bit.” He then turned to his beaming wife. “You’ve got twenty minutes to go and faff. Hurry up.” 

She placed a big smacker on his lips, rushing upstairs to quickly check her face, refresh her deodorant and perfume, and change into something more suitable for a restaurant with three Michelin stars. One pair of leather leggings were pulled on, along with her beautiful, grey cashmere sweater, her red Birkin bag selected, and contents transferred from her other bag, her feet jammed into her black Louboutins, and she was good to go.  

“Oh blimey, my hair!” Circling back, she quickly picked up her brush and gave it a once over, hearing her husband boom from the stairs.  

“Five minutes, Bethany!” He entered the bedroom, pulling off his sweatshirt, giving her an approving once over. “Love them lovely legs wrapped in leather.” A smack placed to her bum echoed through the bedroom, Alfie chuckling with mirth as he shed the rest of his clothes, heading to the ensuite and getting into the shower.  

“You said five minutes!” she yelled, giving his nudity an appreciative once over while leaning against the bathroom doorframe. 

“I’ll be out in twenty seconds, darlin’.” She had to envy him sometimes, how he could go from casual to restaurant ready in a matter of minutes. Styling his hair took him all of a minute, whereas for her, she’d battled through her thick mane with the straighteners for half an hour that morning. He dressed in a grey suit with a black shirt, not bothering with a tie, handsome, yet sophisticated and casual. A spray of aftershave had him ready with forty-nine seconds to spare. Yes, Beth had counted. 

One drive across London later, and they were being seated at one of their favourite restaurant by Stacy herself, who was as attentive and polite as ever. He ordered his usual sparkling water, Beth a large vodka over ice, since it went best with what she was soon to be enjoying. The way he worded it too, when her caviar arrived, she couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Enjoying that, darlin’, having a load of sturgeon reproductive goo in your gob?”  

She almost sprayed half of them back out again. “Stop it! And yes, I am.”  

He chuckled, winking. “Anything I can do to put a smile back on your face, petal.” He paused, sipping his drink and taking another bite of his souffle. “Kids are taking it better than I expected ‘em to, ain’t they?” 

“They really are, yes,” she confirmed, smoothing more of the beluga onto a toast point. “Better than me, I think. I burst into tears as soon as I opened Oliver’s gift earlier.” She’d shown it to him before they’d left, Alfie placing it upon the hallway table, next to one of their wedding pictures. He’d loved it, assuring her he’d call Oliver and Brett personally to offer his thanks later that evening when they’d both be at home.  

“Kids are so much more resilient than we give ‘em credit for, I think. Flora had a little wobble this morning on the way to school, but she was fine by the time we got to the gates. Told her about rainbow bridge, she seemed to like that.”  

The rainbow bridge story. Her heart fluttered at his tenderness with their youngest. Leaning over, she gave him a kiss, Alfie accepting it, albeit with a slightly affronted look.  

“Ugh, get away with your fish eggs! Bleedin’ stink horrid, they do!” No, he was definitely not a fan of the delicacy. Still, it didn’t stop him from buying them for his wife whenever she wanted them, though. They followed their starters with a steak for him, Beth choosing the grilled lamb, much too full for dessert. He did, however, stop by at her favourite chocolatier on the way back to Chelsea, spoiling her a little more, purchasing a few treats for the kids, too.  

Once home, Beth sat with the children in the lounge, going over their homework tasks with them while Alfie returned to his office. While there, he found himself periodically checking his watch, the habit pure muscle memory. At 5pm every night, he’d leave his desk to walk Cyril. Sighing, he ran a hand down his face, absently stroking his beard as he leaned back and thought of his furry best friend.  

God, he missed him.  

They’d known for a while that his declining health meant only one thing, both making the decision not to keep pumping him full of painkillers for his arthritic hips, and eventual failing organs. It wouldn’t have been fair, they’d decreed, to keep him going just for the sake of their hearts. He’d outlived his life expectancy by three years, it was his time.  

Rather than continuing viewing his acquisition profits for the last month, he found himself looking through various dog rescue sites, smiling at the sweet, hopeful faces of the residents. He decided right there and then that when the family were ready, they’d rescue as opposed to buying a puppy. Maybe they could take in more than one? He’d only been looking for a few moments when he felt uncomfortable, knowing it truly was too soon to even consider any dog other than Cyril being in the house, no matter how cute they all were.  

Weeks passed, the family getting used to the lack of his presence within the house, life carrying on. For Alfie, with the kids being on their half term break from school, he threw himself into being a present dad, knowing his empire wasn’t going anywhere and would certainly not crumble for him taking time away from it, enjoying days out with them in abundance.  

It was while he was out with his offspring one morning that Beth decided to take up an offer extended to her and try something new. Mimi had been raving about her love for Thai boxing for a good few months, attending both mid-morning and evening classes at her local gym, finally talking Beth into attending one with her.  

“You know Abe thinks you’re a ninja now, don’t you?” she spoke as they ran through warmup stretches, Mimi chuckling softly.  

“Well, if you enjoy it and keep it up, he’ll be able to say you are, too!” 

“Oh no,” she scoffed, reaching to her toes. “I’m still smelly fart head. And Nagatha Christie, thanks to him overhearing Alfie calling me that.”  

Mimi all but exploded laughing. “Oh my god, he doesn’t change!” She remembered back to when she’d been dating him, him calling her exactly the same whenever she incisively bent his ear over something. “So, where did you say they’ve gone today?” 

Taking to the floor, they sat opposite each other, legs wide and feet pressed together, taking turns to pull back on one another’s hands to experience the deep stretch. “Chessington World of Adventure. They’ve never been before, you should have seen them this morning. God, Mims. The squealing!” 

“Awww,” she cooed, leaning back as she softly gripped Beth’s hands. “I can’t wait for Lis to be big enough to appreciate all of this and go there, too. I was actually talking about it to Josh a while back, but I can never remember it’s called Chessington, so I was calling it Chesterton Theme Park and he was like, “erm, what, babes? Where’s that?” until I realised that I was flubbing the name. Typical me.” 

It truly was. Mimi would not be Mimi if she wasn’t getting her words confused. Beth still wasn’t over her recent blunder of calling chicken pasta Alfredo, “the Alfred pasta.” Her and Kinga had fallen apart completely while a totally nonplussed Mims had continued browsing the menu. She was a pure joy if nothing else.  

As Beth very rapidly discovered once the gloves had been put on and focus mitts brought out, Mimi was also one hell of a mean shot with her fists. Then the kicks happened. 

“Jesus bloody Christ!”  

“Oh, don’t be daft, mate. I’m not that strong!” Mimi exclaimed, a well-placed kick sending Beth a couple of feet backwards.  

She gathered herself, holding the kick pad firmly once more. “I beg to differ!” 

By the time they were done and meeting up with Magda for a little shopping and lunch, the latter having enjoyed a blissful morning of nothing due to her booking some time off work, Beth could barely move.  

“Alright, tin man.” 

Magda’s words earned her a scowl, Beth kissing her cheek. “It isn’t funny, she beat me up!” Turning, they both witnessed a triumphant Mimi flexing her muscles, cracking up at herself and moving to greet Magda.  

“Tiny, little blonde Bruce Lee, is it?” 

“Not quite,” Mimi muffled from the crush of Magda's usual, warm, bone crunching hug. “But you should come!” 

She should have expected the face she got in reply to that. “My love, the only exercise I get is running me gob. You know that. Right! Let’s go be fancy bitches then, shall we, ladies?” The women were heading to Mecca, otherwise known as Covent Garden, their favourite place to shop. Magda’s contact at Chanel and subsequent discount didn’t hurt either. Not everyone was a wealthy as Beth.  

She still found it bizarre, though, even ten years into being the girlfriend and then wife of a billionaire, to be able to spend an unlimited budget on herself. She and Alfie did offset it by giving an awful lot of it away to charity, though. Or, as Beth often did, heading to the bank, withdrawing a few hundred pounds and giving out little wedges to any homeless people she happened to see along her way. It made her feel better about the huge divide in the country between the very wealthy and very poor.  

Still, the Chanel employees relished in seeing her name down in the appointment book, knowing they were about to receive a very nice commission.  

“Mrs. Solomons, welcome,” she was greeted by Leighton with, the chief sales attendant. “Oh, this cardigan is a dream! Is it an Oscar?” he asked courteously, smoothing the black cashmere of her sleeve.  

She leaned in close to whisper. “No, it’s actually M&S!” 

His mouth dropped open. “Oooh, I love a good bargain! Can I offer you ladies a drink? Coffee, juice, champagne?” Of course, they all chose the latter. Once furnished with drinks, Leighton allowed them to browse unassisted, Magda deep in conversation with her friend Hannah, who managed the store while Mimi picked up a bottle of her usual perfume, and Beth browsed the bags.  

She ended up choosing two of the boy bags, quilted effect design with a chain strap, one in grey and another in pink. The pink one was hidden, though, since the recipient wasn’t her. She ferried her choices to Leighton, asking him to gift wrap the pink one, moving to the shoes and selecting a pair of turquoise sandals she liked, too. Those, a skirt and pair of trousers later, and she was done. 

Once Magda was done chatting, choosing a scarf and a new pair of sunglasses for herself, and another item also not destined for her, they paid for their purchases and left, hopping into a taxi and heading over to Shoreditch. They had a table booked at Camino, Mimi’s favourite tapas restaurant, a meal she had no idea she was being treated to by her friends in lieu of being able to celebrate her birthday with her on the actual day, Josh taking her for a long weekend in Italy the following week. Hence the purchases at Chanel not destined for their own wardrobes. 

“Right then, little miss almost thirty-two,” Magda began, bobbing her tongue between her teeth as Mimi cringed. 

“Oh, don’t remind me! I was twenty-one five minutes ago, I feel old!” 

Beth snorted, lifting her eyes from the menu. “Oh, stop it. I just turned forty!” 

“And I’m hitting the big five zero in six months, so you’re still the bloody baby of the group, ain’t ya?” Magda chimed, giving her a soft poke on the wrist. “Anyway, as I was saying, since you’ll be enjoying pasta and cannoli's over in the motherland on your actual birthday, you get your gifts from us now. Happy birthday, babe.”  

Mimi’s mouth fell open when from beneath the table, two double C branded boxes were pulled out and passed to her, a long, high pitched squeak emanating. “Oh my fucking god! You didn’t!” 

“We did, now shut your gob and get ‘em opened!”  

She did, choosing Magda’s first, her mouth flying open again when she pulled out the long, gold and blue Chanel nameplate style necklace within.  

“Oh, darlin’,” the lady herself cooed, Mimi in tears as she immediately put it on and then rushed to hug her. “You like it, then?” 

“I bloody love it, Mags! Thank you so much, I love you!” 

She was so touched, Mimi always so sweet when presented with gifts. “Love you too, sunshine, and you’re welcome.” Taking her seat again, she then moved onto Beth’s present, almost passing out when she saw the bag she had so coveted within, her hands flying to cover her open mouth with a gasp.  

“Beth!” Those hands then began to flap, more tears coming. “Oh my god, oh my god!” Once again, she was out of her seat, wrapping Beth in a huge hug. “I love it, and you! Thank you!” 

“You’re welcome, darling,” she told her warmly, kissing her cheek a few times. “We know you’ve had a rough year, so we wanted to spoil you a little.” 

Indeed, it had been a bad year for Mimi, finding out in January that she was pregnant again, but sadly losing the baby just a week before her first scan. She’d been so sad for months about it, her friends trying hard to pull her out of her funk and be there for her during her period of grief.  

Beth knew the pain well, she and Alfie suffering the same between her having Abe and conceiving Flora, so had been a pillar of support for her during that time. It was also one of the reasons why she’d taken up Thai boxing, needing something to take out her anger at the injustice of losing her baby on, choosing the sport to help in catharsis. The fact that she happened to be very good at it and already training for her orange belt was a mere bonus.  

After enjoying their lunch, they were about to get a cab back over to Chelsea, since the women were heading back to Beth’s for a girl’s night that evening, when one of them saw something in the near distance she couldn’t ignore. Thai boxing had also made Mimi very brave where conflict was concerned. 

“Oi! Oi!” She shouted, pointing. Her heels were off, Mimi sprinting barefoot up the street, Beth and Magda turning to search for what on earth had caused their friend’s sudden reaction.  

“Oh, shitting hell,” Magda quietly hissed, beginning to run after her as they witnessed the object of Mimi’s anger, Beth hot on her heels. “I know she’s got all this newly found Thai boxing mettle, our Mims, but she can’t take on some scummy roadman by herself, fuck!” 

A roadman was Magda’s preferred slang term for an undesirable man, usually donned in sports clothing, who stank of weed and thought himself to be some kind of hard arsed gangster. A large dog upon a lead that was much too large for purpose was usually involved, too, which in this instance was what had drawn Mimi’s attention. Or rather, the way said roadman treated the animal in question. 

“Stop it! You can’t treat a dog like that, what the fucking hell is wrong with you?” she exclaimed, the young man of about twenty yanking the poor, skinny but still sizable, dark grey dog by the heavy choke chain around his neck. “He’s just a baby, you bastard!” 

“Yo, what’s it to you, though, yeah?” he spoke, sucking his teeth. “Ain’t got nuttin’ here, girl. No business with me, ya get me, blud?” 

“You’ve got a bloody chain about the size they use to secure fucking motorbikes around his neck and you’re yanking him up the street! I’m not standing by and watching that shit, mate! Fucking stop pulling him!” 

The man even had the gall to smirk. “Ain’t nuttin’ to you. Yo, don’t touch me, fam!” He tried to shake her grip on his arm loose, Mimi fighting to secure the lead from his grasp, people all around stopping to stare. “Fuck, I’ll fuckin’ stab you up, bird. Ya get me?” 

Magda and Beth arrived with them, the former immediately imposing herself. “Threaten her with a knife again, boy. Go on, sunshine. Fucking dare ya.” 

“And who are you, old lady? What ya gonna do, yeah?” 

Magda laughed, still imposing into his space. “Who am I? Someone who grew up on the fuckin’ roughest estate in Brixton is who I am, you little roadman twat. I’ll take the chain you’ve got round that poor animal's neck and fuckin’ knock every single one of your fuckin’ teeth out your mouth with it if you threaten me or my friend again. Ya get me, blud?”  

Her mimicking of his vernacular drew a few laughs from those watching, Magda unblinking, Beth feeling her pulse escalate with nerves. Just then, her focus was drawn by the sudden feeling of softness pushing against her hand. Looking down, she saw the dog moving closer to her legs, Mimi successfully yanking the lead free from the grip of the man still facing off with Magda.  

She crouched to him, stroking his crinkles. He was shaking. “Hello, lovely boy. Are you alright? Goodness, this chain is cutting into your neck, you poor soul,” she cooed, checking him over. He was in a state, that was for sure. She recognised his breed, but he looked the furthest from how the huge, proud looking Neapolitan Mastiff should have appeared. He was young too, she noted, nowhere near the full-grown size but still, so undernourished. Looking into his big, soulful eyes as he softly thumped his tail and licked her hands, covering her in a generous slick of slobber, her ears caught the tail end of Magda’s tirade.  

“Now, I’ll give you a choice, mate. Walk away and leave the dog with us, or I’ll fuckin’ get the law on ya for animal abuse and threatening my friend with a knife. What’s it to be? Because you ain’t lookin’ after that dog at fucking all, are ya? Look at him, barely out of his puppy months and he’s skin and bone! What’s it to be?”  

She stood firm, the man shrugging before cussing under his breath, his teeth sucked again before he simply walked away. He didn’t even fight for his dog, so little was the care for the creature beyond having a status symbol at the end of a lead. A few people applauded, a man coming forth and offering his hand to Magda, telling her how well she’d handled it.  

She then turned to Beth, taking the lead from Mimi and handing it to her with a curt nod. “Don’t say I never give you nothing.”  

Immediately, tears spilled from her eyes, hugging the dog as she cried into his soft, yet dirty fur. He stank of cigarettes and weed. “Oi, come on, babe. Hold it together, eh?” Magda continued, crouching to put her arm around her, Mimi dipping too to offer support. “Right, nearest pet shop. He needs a bit of proper dog clobber and not this nasty chain. Look at it! You could tow a fuckin’ Jeep out of a bog with it! Poor puppy, Christ! He can’t even be one yet.” 

A quick hail of a black cab got them the transport they needed to reach the nearest pet shop, the large puppy more than happy to head along with the three kind ladies who made such a fuss of him. 

“He’s a lovely chap, ain’t he?” the cabbie chirped, looking in the rear view. “Please make sure he don’t slobber on me seats though, girls! How long you ‘ad him for?” 

“About five minutes,” Beth quipped, the cabbie looking confused. “My besties here commandeered him from a roadman lad who was mistreating him, so yes, I went out handbag shopping and ended up with a couple of them, and a dog, too.” 

“Bet you couldn’t pick one of them up in Chanel either, right?” His words had them laughing, obviously noticing the branded bags they all carried from their little splurge in that very store. Once at the pet superstore, they paid him with thanks, Beth taking some tissues from her blazer pocket and wiping up where the dog had dribbled on the floor.  

“I can’t take you in on this,” she spoke, removing the chain. “Are you going to be good and stay with me, or do I have to put my back out and carry you?” He must have weighed a good twenty plus kilograms already, Magda noting on the way over that he was probably under a year in age. “Come on.” She made a kissy noise with her lips, the dog tilting his head before lolloping along with them, pinning himself at Beth’s side.  

Just twenty-five minutes into his new life, and he seemed to feel safe enough to revert to how he should have acted. Carefree, silly and happy, as all puppies should. He drew a few questions from the staff, Magda explaining the story while Beth sorted him with a new collar and lead, another member of staff coming over and advising on a harness, too.  

“You’ll of course need to come back and fit him with a larger one once he’s fully grown,” he spoke, making adjustments, noting the state he was in. “Flipping well done to you all, too, taking him away from that vile person. I can’t bear to see animals mistreated.”  

It was one of those pet superstores that also contained a veterinarian clinic as well as a groomer, Beth pleased to learn that they actually had a few appointments spare for each a little later, waiting around for forty minutes after making the purchases of food, a new bed, toys and everything else he needed before going in to see the vet.  

“From his teeth, I would estimate he’s around eight months old, no microchip either, so we can pop one of those in for you, too. I’m going to say I very much doubt he’s had his vaccinations either, so I can start a file for you with a card. I will recommend a course of wormer and flea treatments as well which we sell down in the store. Can I take your details please, Mrs. Solomons?”  

She duly gave those details, the vet speedily typing them into the file. “And the dog’s name?” 

Oh. She had no idea. Thinking for a few moments, she felt a little on the spot, feeling like it should have been a decision she consulted Alfie and her kids over. It then came to her in a flash, the perfect name for her brand-new companion. 

“Wilson.” she smiled. After all, they had been on Wilson Street when they’d found him. Once his microchip had been sorted, the little wounds caused by the chain upon his neck bathed and flushed, the vet made a few more recommendations, Beth taking Wilson’s new vaccination card and thanking him.  

They then went to the groomers section of the store, Beth remaining with him while he was attended to, for the sake of it all being so new and not wanting him to feel like he was being abandoned. The colour of the water that ran off him made her insides pinch. She guessed he’d likely never been washed. She was only surprised he didn’t have fleas or skin conditions, the state he’d been in. 

Once bathed, Beth held him while he was dried, Wilson swiping at the nozzle for the dog dryer with his paws, comically trying to bite it as well, his large, floppy ears he hadn’t quite grown into flapping around all over the place. He tilted his head back, his big, blue eyes staring at Beth with all the love and trust in the world, his tail thumping. He knew he was safe, and it melted her heart to see him accept his new life so willingly. She could only imagine just what the hell he had come from.  

With some flea treatment and wormer purchased, another cab was called for, Mimi calling for an Uber pet service, the girls and Wilson all piling in.  

“Oh god, I hope Alfie doesn’t go mental at me for bringing him home. Thank the stars you two are staying for dinner, he’ll make less of a scene with his best mate and the woman he’s terrified of there,” she exclaimed, both snorting with laughter.  

Magda pointed at Wilson, reaching to rub his ears. “How the flip can anybody go mental at this face? Look at him! Bloody lovely thing, he is!” He was, that much was true, but just nine weeks after Cyril’s passing, Beth worried that it was much too soon to consider another canine companion. Then again, what were she and her girls meant to have done? Let the poor creature remain with the scumbag who previously owned him? Taken him to Battersea? He had a new start right there waiting for him. It seemed silly to bypass such a fated meeting.  

Once back at home, Magda grabbed as many bags as she could, Beth leading Wilson to the front door while juggling his new bed under her other arm, Mimi bringing the rest. Placing everything in the kitchen, Beth unfastened Wilson from his harness, the three standing back while watching him begin to explore his new surroundings.  

“Might be a good idea to steer him in the direction of the back door, just in case he isn’t house broken,” Mimi suggested, Beth widening her eyes. 

“A very good point, my friend! Oy, could you imagine if he pissed up the sofa before Alfie even gets home to either love him or shout at me?” 

Magda snorted. “Babe, he ain’t gonna shout, you’re fine! Look at him, bloody little smasher, he is! Besides, didn’t you tell me you guys wanted to rescue? Well, he was rescued, so there you go.”  

Following the dog, they all herded him in the direction of Alfie’s office, Beth jogging to open the door that led to the garden. Once outside, his nose didn’t leave the floor, tail wagging, letting out a few excited baby barks as he sprinted across the patio, chasing a butterfly. Three hearts all melted immediately, Beth’s then catapulting into her chest when she heard the front door opening.  

“Stay out here with him, let me go and face the music.” Turning she strode through the office, welcoming her family, Alfie’s eye as eagle as ever. 

“What’s with this, this shifty look on your mug, ay?” he spoke slowly, pointing at her face and giving her another kiss.  

“Um... something happened today. Kids, go and take your coats off and wait in the kitchen. Abe, sort you and your sister a juice each, there’s a good boy.” 

His eyebrow rose. “And?” he spoke, the kids obediently trotting off down to the kitchen.  

“And...” she began, hearing a little commotion, and a soft yapping bark before turning to see Wilson slip out of Magda’s grasp and come hurtling towards them. “And we have a puppy.” 

“What the fu...” he began, his eyes widening as his mouth dropped open. “Hello, you! Fuck, look at you, bloody hell! Little tank, innit? Bit thin though, ain’t ya, ay? Hello mate!” Reaching down, he easily lifted him into his arms, Wilson showering him in puppy kisses. “Oi, no biting the beard, yeah?” More washing continued. “Where’d ya get him from? I thought you birds was off up Covent Garden? Last time I checked, they didn’t sell no mastiff’s up there!” 

“You’re not cross with me?” she asked, her hand rubbing Wilson’s wriggly legs.  

“Nah, darlin’! Bit surprised, like, but I ain’t mad. Look at him, he’s a right little champ, ain’t ya?” 

“Told you,” Magda called, ducking her head back in from where she was smoking a cigarette, swiftly going on to explain what had happened, Alfie and Beth joining them outside.  

“Bleedin’ might’ve known you two would have something to do with it!” he exclaimed, pinching Mimi’s nose between his fingers. “Thinking you’re some kind of street fighter, takin’ on roadmen, you fiery mare!”  

Mimi beamed, giving him a few playful punches. “Worth it though, wasn’t it? Puppy boy here got himself some lovely new parents and a lovely new home!” 

“Yeah,” Alfie began, setting him down on the ground again, Wilson lolloping off, “a home he better not bleedin’ take to chewing. Ain’t having none of that game, I ain’t. You got him toys and all that, baby beast? Or we gotta go out again?” 

“Nope, all sorted. Hold on, let me go and get the kids.” Rushing back to the kitchen, she retrieved her children, telling them there was a surprise waiting for them outside. When they saw him, oh, their little faces. Excited squeals filled the space, happy tears were shed, and a very big, very wriggly puppy introduced himself with lots of kisses.  

Suddenly, the house wasn’t so quiet for the new member of the family settling in, the girls night turning into a family night as they all watched Wilson happily acclimatise to his new surroundings. He played with the kids for a full two hours before flopping into his bed, asleep within moments. Since it was the weekend as well as half term, the kids were allowed to stay up late, their dad treating them to pizza while Beth ordered in a Chinese takeaway for her and her friends, eating it upstairs in the cinema room while they watched Pretty Woman.  

While taking a pause between that and the next film, she came downstairs to grab another bottle of prosecco from the fridge, pausing at the entrance to the lounge. There, all snuggled up on a nest of blankets and floor cushions, her husband sat with the children stroking Wilson, who was stretched out on his legs. Noticing his wife there, he smiled, winking. “Love you.” 

“Love you, too. All four of you.” 

And by god, how she did. With the arrival of one dog who needed them just as much as they did him, their family was whole again. Wherever the spirit of Cyril was, she couldn’t help but think he’d approve, too.  

The End.  

[er1chartmann]

Joseph Goebbels's time line

This is Joseph Goebbels,The Nazi minister for Propaganda, time-line:

1897: He was born in Rheydt

1900: His father bought a house at number 140 Dahlener Street, in Rheydt, today number 156.

1909: His sister, named Maria, was born.

1917: He moved to 18 Post Straße in Bonn to continue his studies

1919: He voted for the German Nationalist Party

1919: He moved to Munich.

1920: He moved to Heidelberg University, where he studied under the aegis of two Jewish professors, Friedrich Gundolf, professor of literary history, and Max von Waldberg, author of numerous books on the history of literature.

1922: He worked briefly as an art critic for a newspaper, but was fired; he later gave a public lecture on Oswald Spengler.

1922: He subsequently found work at the Dresdner bank in Cologne, thanks to the family relationships of his girlfriend, Else Janke, of Jewish origins. He remained there for nine months, only to be fired.

1924: He began writing his diaries.

1924: He organized the first political meetings in his father's house in Rheydt

1924: He published his first article in a weekly political magazine

1925: On January 20, 1925, he was fired from the magazine Völkische Freiheit and subsequently became Gregor Strasser's secretary.

1925: He was at the forefront, alongside Strasser, in supporting the campaign for the expropriation of the assets of the fallen nobles, proposed by the communist and social democratic deputies.

1926: on 29 March 1926 Hitler offered Goebbels the opportunity to speak in public, the following 8 April; Goebbels accepted and, from then on, was completely won over by the Führer.

1926: He officially broke with Strasser and definitively switched to Hitler's side.

1926: Hitler appointed Goebbels Gauleiter (regional section head) of Berlin.

1928: He was elected deputy to the Reichstag

1931: He married Magda, the ex-wife of an industrialist, on the estate of Günther Quandt in Mecklenburg: Hitler was his best man.

1932: His first child, named Helga, was born.

1933: Goebbels was called to the position of Minister of Propaganda.

1933: He organized the so-called ''Book Burnings'' in Berlin.

1934: His second child, named Hildegard, was born.

1935: His third child and only son, Helmut, was born.

1936: He became the lover of the Czechoslovakian actress Lída Baarová.

1937: His fourth child, named Holdine, was born

1937: He opened the exhibition of the so-called ''degenerate art'': no ​​entry fee was required, to ensure that it was visited by as many people as possible.

1938: He helped organize Kristallnacht

1938: His fifth child, named Hedwig, was born.

1939: The Second World War began

1939: He visited Poland and in particular a ghetto.

1940: His sixth child, named Heidrun, was born

1940: He became editor of Das Reich.

1941: He read the declaration of war regarding the invasion of the Soviet Union.

1941: He began to take an active interest in the Jewish question. With Hitler's permission, he created a ''special mark for the Jews''

1943: He made the speech of total war.

1945: He was named plenipotentiary minister for total war mobilization and later general of the Wehrmacht, in charge of the defense of Berlin, this assignment meant a lot to Goebbels, who was unable to join the army during WW1 due to his disability

1945: From 22 to 29 April, He published the last Nazi newspaper in history, the Panzerbär.

1945: Hitler, in his last wishes, named him his successor as Reich Chancellor.

1945: Once Hitler died, Goebbels took over from him as chancellor on 30 April 1945, remaining in office for only almost a day and a half.

1945: He and his wife Magda, after having killed their six children with cyanide, they committed suicide.

Sources:

Wikipedia: Joseph Goebbels

Hitler and his loyalists: Paul Roland

Joseph Goebbels, the agitator: Documentary

If you don't like it go with your life :))

Note: If I get new information from my research I will edit the post :))

I DON'T SUPPORT NAZISM, FASCISM OR ZIONISM IN ANY WAY, THIS IS AN EDUCATIONAL POST

[pernillemagda]

Translation of the first episode of a new programme during the euros

Pernille was in the first episode, starting after 29 minutes

They start out talking about the disappointment after going out in the group stage last year at the euro, but back then, many hadn't played tournament before and they have gained experience from that.

In their free time when this was recorded (when they were still in Denmark), in the evenings they sometimes watched football or Bachelorette.

They then move on and talks about her national team career. The reporter plays a clip for her with the goal where she took the goal-scoring-record, at first Pernille couldn't remember it was exactly that goal she broke the record, but she was proud after the game. She also tells how she sometimes forgets what she already has achieved as she always set new goals if she reaches them. She says it's important for her to stop up, be in the moment and enjoy the success she already has achieved, the reporter then asks why, *Pernille smiling* "Because I have been told to". But she explains it isn't natural for her and that there always is a day tomorrow and she should be even better as she has said before.

If she should point out one moment in her career for the National team there is the biggest, she would say when they came home from the Euro 2017 to "rådhuspladsen" (a place in Copenhagen where Danish athletes are paid tribute for big achievements in their sport). She hadn't at all expected there would be that many people and says it's really big and describes it as a milestone and something she will never forget.

The reporter asks why she hadn't expected it, she says before that tournament, they hadn't really had much support from the Danish fans, but afterwards, they slowly gained respect.

They then move on and talks about how it was to play in "Parken" (the Danish national arena, where the men also play" and how big a day it was.

He plays a new clip where Pernille immediately says "I'm talking a little Swedish". It's a clip from the last World Cup where she's asked by a Swedish journalist how much she and Magda talked during the tournament. She then praised herself and says "I'm talking really good Swedish"😂 if you forgot, your girlfriend is Swedish Pernille. They just talk about how she saw all the Swedish matches and the usual things she said before as experiencing a tournament from a fan perspective.

Then he mentions the "famous kiss", here they also talk about the usual stuff, nothing new. Magda and Pernille understood their platform and all the positive reactions and messages. That they don't hide and just post normal pictures together. He also ask if they had ever thought they could have an impact and be a part of changing things, and she says they had never talked about it before.

He then plays a clip from the interview after the reading game in how she talks about the farewell from the fans of Chelsea and that she was grateful for the good farewell they got (basically the same as in this article)

He asks if Magda was the reason she transferred to Chelsea in the first place, with a smile she says she was one of the factors, not the only one. The reporter asks if she thinks she's a better player when she's on the same team as Magda and lives together. She says she thinks it's important that it's important that life off the field is going well for it to go well on the field. And she says it's better for her when she lives with Magda.

She also tells a bit about how they had sat down before choosing Bayern and given different clubs grades based of some different things as

The coach

The values of the club

The players already on the team

How much do they need them, and do they need them botj

How is the city

as it is important that the clubs suits them

He then asks with a smile to round it off, if Denmark or Sweden comes furthest in the tournament, and Pernille very confidently answers "Ofc. Denmark"

[rom-e-o]

Liable to Fall - Chapter 3 (Scrooge/OC)(Post-canon)

Back with a short, angsty morsel before we get into the real agony. :)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

In that precious hour before dinner, Ebenezer Scrooge parked himself at his mahogany study and studied all the information about his wife that he could.

His wife. Gods above, he could still scarcely believe it.

It was hard to believe he wasn’t living some farce. The last he could recall, he was a bachelor in his home; a man who occupied his time by attending charitable galas and writing checks to institutions long past due for charitable donations. If his social calendar was free , he would busy himself by reading his nephew’s young daughter to sleep in front of a roaring fire.

That was his life as he knew it.

But … to be married?

He’d shared his heart and bed with a woman he couldn’t remember. The notion threatened to cleave his heart.

Perhaps it was a farce, he thought? Some elaborate hoax? To what end, he didn’t know … but perhaps.

Yet, document by document, his skepticism was proved wrong. As he dutifully scanned the records, he read detailed articles about her life before London, including her adoption by real estate investors turned youth activists Theresea and Arthur DoGoode after being orphaned at two years old. Also included in the batch was supplemental information about her previous marriage to Orin Gustav Spiegler, her storied medical history, a newspaper clipping about Spiegler’s conviction…then, their time together.

Everything was sorted chronologically, which made pursuing an easy feat. It seemed his record-keeping was still top-notch in the strange reality he was living in.

Included in the stack of documents, situated toward the front of the pile, was a copy of a marriage certificate. Their names were side-by-side. His own name scrawled in his familiar flourish, further leaving no room for argument in his mind that he had signed the document.

Then, her name. Constance Albany DoGoode-Scrooge. Bit of a mouthful, he thought with a laugh and strange fondness in his heart. Reflexively, he reached out and allowed his fingers to grace the name written before him, the ink long since dried to permanence.

She’d kept her father’s name, he thought with a smile. At least he knew with promise that his present-day self had a reasonable head on his shoulders.

He was quite aware of how other men, regardless of prestige or upbringing, didn’t allow their wives such an obvious degree of freedom … and it filled his heart with joy that he had.

Then, that joy hardened like ice at the realization that all that goodness was now essentially null and void.

“She had such a hard life, then finally, finally she found a better one.”

It had taken her almost forty years, twenty of which were spent shackled to an abusive spouse through golden bands, to find solace. She’d survived an attempted suicide, drug addition, losing her father … and yet, she glowed like a golden idol to him. A goddess of warmth and happiness.

He swallowed the words like sour medicine, and with a grimace.

It was so much more than a simple fall, he realized. Something far greater than even his memory was at risk.

A soft knock at the door interrupted his pitied musings.

“Mr. Scrooge, sir,” Magda called hollowly from the other side. “Dinner is ready, when it pleases you.”

“I’ll be down in a moment,” he found the lucidity to reply. While the man slowly felt like he was drifting back into the realm of reality, he couldn’t deny some of his actions and replies were likely the result of muscle memory and routine more than functioning thought.

With a hay-soft voice, he called back, “…The lady of the house will be joining us, yes?”

“Yes, sir.” The unspoken ‘as always’ hung in the air with tangible swing.

“Good,” he said, pushing himself up from his chair. “Very good. I’ll be down in a moment.”

He felt as if he needed a lifetime to rally himself for the occasion. Yet, seeing as time of the essence in this situation, he settled for five minutes.

The shortest – and longest – five minutes of his life.

Dinner began with palpable tension, but as time passed and their bellies filled with chatter and warm food, the mood began to lift.

The man took a gamble and initiated something Londoners usually despised; unnecessary small talk.

“So, you both prepared tonight’s dish, yes?” Ebenezer asked, eyes dancing between the two ladies. “I have a feeling I know the answer, but I must ask … which one of you added shaved truffle to the dish?”

The two exchanged surprised and pleased expressions before Constance raised a hand. “Me, I’m afraid. Truffle in pörkölt isn’t exactly a traditional ingredient.”

“No, it certainly isn’t, but it does add a quite a nice flavor. A wonderful decision, I’d say.”

Constance blushed lightly, her smile broadening. “Thank you.”

“Magda, does it meet your standards?”

“You jest, sir. Everything about this fine lady meets my standards.”

Constance reddened further, hiding that lovely smile of hers behind a raised hand. “Oh, please…”

“We’ve been adding truffle in this dish since Connie came to live here,” Magda said, reaching down to pinch the red-headed woman’s cheek delicately. “She offered the idea as a solution to balance out some of the paprika.”

“Really?” he asked, looking at her quizzically. “Without all the paprika, is it even the same dish?”

“Hm, it’s probably closer to tokány,” she said, tapping her chin as she pondered the question, “But I think it’s all well and fine.”

“That sounds like begrudging acquiescence on your part.”

“Perish the thought. I’ve had to alter the recipe for all the English lords I’ve served. My husband is the same way.”

“A-Ah…” Ebenezer sighed, only wounded for a moment before he heard Constance’s radiant laughter from across the table. Her natural, musical laughter.

It was a beautiful sound, he couldn’t deny that.

“Now, don’t tease too much, Magda,” Constance chastised, giving the maid a playful grin before turning her attention to Ebenezer from across the dining table. “My mother loved truffle, so we ate it in everything growing up. My father loved to cook, and every time he made dinner, she always added it to dishes. Even ones that, perhaps, didn’t need them. It never mattered. My father did anything for my mother.”

“Your father, Arthur.”

Her eyes practically lit up at the mention of the late man’s name. “Yes.”

Ebenezer dared to lean across the table a bit, just enough to search those cornflower blue eyes of hers more devoutly. He then lowered his voice a big so Magda couldn’t hear him as she rounded room to the drink cart to uncork a bottle of tawny port for dessert.

It was a dusty bottle too, from what he could see, so he had some time before the seal broke.

However, as he stared at her expectant expression, his mouth suddenly dried. “I-I…”

“Do you remember him?” she asked hopefully. She leaned forward, the rufflers of her peignoir draping over the tapered edge of the table.

Guilt flashed across his face, and her eyes clouded with sadness in recognition. “Oh.”

“I apologize.” That was moronic of me.

“N-no," she choked out with a nondescript laugh. "It’s quite alright. It's ... not your fault.”

Yet, he could tell from the way that her fingers trembled against the stem of her drinking glass that her pleasantries were bitter falsehoods.

The after-dinner drinks were consumed in silence.

[ai14anasculer]

woso friends, i need your help. does anyone have screenshots or link to the article where it talks about magda and pernille and she says that magda was her one and only girl she ever fell for? PLEASE

[autumncottageattic]

Favourite quotes from Bridget Jones's Diary (1996) & Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason (1999), just finished re-reading them😄

It struck me as pretty ridiculous to be called Mr Darcy and to stand on your own looking snooty at a party. It's like being called Heathcliff and insisting on spending the entire evening in the garden, shouting 'Cathy' and banging your head against a tree

He turned round, revealing that what had seemed from the back like a harmless navy sweater was actually a V-neck diamond-pattern in shades of yellow and blue — as favoured by the more elderly of the nation's sports reporters. As my friend Tom often remarks, it's amazing how much time and money can be saved in the world of dating by close attention to detail. A white sock here, a pair of red braces there, a grey slip-on shoe, a swastika, are as often as not all one needs to tell you there's no point writing down

Suddenly I realize I am waiting for the phone again. How can it be that the situation between the sexes after a first night remains so agonizingly imbalanced? Feel as if I have just sat an exam and must wait for my results.

Can officially confirm that the way to a man s heart these days is not through beauty, food, sex, or alluringness of character, but merely the ability to seem not very interested in him.

You should make the most of being single while it lasts, Bridge,' she said. 'Once you've got kids and you've given up your job you're in an incredibly vulnerable position. I know Jeremy thinks my life is just one big holiday, but basically it's extremely hard work looking after a toddler and a baby all day, and it doesn't stop. When Jeremy comes home at the end of the day he wants to put his feet up and be nurtured and, as I imagine all the time now, fantasize about girls in leotards at the Harbour Club.

'I had a proper job before. I know for a fact it's much more fan going out to work, getting all dressed up, flirting in the office and having nice lunches than going to the bloody supermarket and picking Harry up from playgroup. But there's always this aggrieved air that I'm some sort of ghastly Harvey Nichols-obsessed lady who lunches while he earns all the money.'

She's so beautiful, Magda. I watched her toying with her champagne glass despondently and wondered what the answer is for we girls. Talk about grass is always bloody greener. The number of times I've slumped, depressed, thinking how useless I am and that I spend every Saturday night getting blind drunk and moaning to Jude and Shazzer or Tom about not having a boyfriend; I struggle to make ends meet and am ridiculed as an unmarried freak, whereas Magda lives in a big house with eight different kinds of pasta in jars, and gets to go shopping all day. And yet here she is so beaten, miserable and unconfident and telling me I'm lucky . . 

Going out to meet Tom for tea. Decided needed to spend more time on appearance like Hollywood stars and have therefore spent ages putting concealer under eyes, blusher on cheeks and defining fading features.

'Good God,' said Tom when I arrived.

'What?' I said. 'What?'

"Your face. You look like Barbara Cartland.'

Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason (1999)

Jude had been to the gym where she ended up reading some article calling single girls over thirty 're-treads'. "The guy was arguing that the sort of girls who

 - wouldn't go out with him in their twenties would go out with him now but he didn't want them any more," she said sadly. "He said they were all obsessed with settling down and babies and his rule with girls now was "Nothing over twenty-five".

Whole dating world is like hideous game of bluff and double bluff with men and women firing at each other from opposite lines of sandbags. Is as if there is a set of rules that you are supposed to be sticking to, but no one knows what they are so everyone just makes up their own. Then you end up getting chucked because you didn't follow the rules correctly, but how could you be expected to, when you didn't know what they were in the first place?

"It's very hard for young people now," Elaine interrupted again, looking hard at me. "One can marry anyone when one is eighteen. But when one's character is formed, taking on the reality of a man must seem insufferable. Present company excepted of course."

All friendships between men and women are based on the sexual dynamic. The mistake people make is ignoring this, then getting upset when their friend doesn't shag them."

  "I'm not getting upset," muttered Shazzer.

  "What about friends when neither fancies the other?" said Jude.

  "Doesn't happen. Sex is what drives it. 'Friends' is a bad definition."

"It's not me it's a social trend," I said indignantly. "Women are staying single because they can support themselves and want to do their careers, then when they get older all the men think they're desperate re-treads with sell-by dates and just want someone younger."

  "Honestly, darling. Sell-by dates! Anyone would think you were a tub of cottage cheese in ASDA! All that sillydaft nonsense is just in films, darling."

"No, it's not."

  "Durrr! Sell-by date. They might pretend they want one of these bimbas but they don't really. They want a nice friend. What about Roger what's-his-name that left Audrey for his secretary? Of course she was thick. Six months later he was begging Audrey to come back and she wouldn't have him!"

[alexbkrieger13]

*click link to watch video*

The Women’s World Cup is just over three weeks away and there’s been plenty of media coverage about the bespoke items that players will be wearing in Australia and New Zealand – including the Phantom Luna, Nike’s first boot designed for female players.

Unfortunately, there has also been much written about the players who will be missing this tournament because of ACL injuries, such as England’s Leah Williamson and Beth Mead.

The worry for many players I know is that a connection exists between the boots they’ve been wearing – which are designed for a male foot – and the greater risk of serious knee injuries faced by women footballers.

For this reason, I sat down in a cafe in Kingston with Dr Katrine Okholm Kryger, an associate professor in sports rehabilitation at St Mary’s University, Twickenham, who I first met when she came to Chelsea for a study into women footballers’ feet.

She sits on the Uefa Women’s Health Panel and the findings of her study, commissioned by the European Club Association (ECA), involved nearly 350 players.

Here she tells me about the scale and findings of a study never before done on footballers, male or female – and explains why boot manufacturers now have no excuse when it comes to producing better boots for women players at all levels.

Magda Eriksson [ME]: Kat, can you tell me about the research you were doing and your findings?

Katrine Kryger [KK]: We scanned players from top clubs from Europe, travelling around with a scanner and speaking to some of the best players in the world.

We know men and women have different foot shapes so we scanned these to quantify exactly what a woman’s foot shape is like, so we can pass that on to the manufacturers so they have a model to base a women’s boot design on.

I’ve done groupings of different ethnicities, different playing positions, different foot types and all of that is going to be in a database that manufacturers will be offered access to.

ME: What are the potential problems for women from wearing boots designed for a man’s foot?

KK: There are three main areas of concern. The first is the fit. Football boots are really tightly fitted – or should be because you need to be able to move and change direction without sliding inside the shoe – but that means you’re wearing something that’s fitted around a man’s foot, and a white man’s foot to be more specific. And with a female foot being differently shaped, that’s going to cause squeezing and aching and blisters.

When I asked if they had pain or discomfort with football boots, just 18 per cent left it blank. So 82 per cent had an issue somewhere with boots and one in three women highlighted the heel. They’re so stiff and if the shape isn’t perfect, they’re going to rub on the heel.

ME: I had a team-mate who had to cut a hole in her boot just so her heel can stick out. I’ve also had that problem when the bone starts to grow because of constant rubbing and had to have my Nike Tiempo boots custom-made. My heel cap is really soft and they’ve had to stretch it bigger as well just to get more space.

KK: The second big concern is that a football boot will only bend in between the stud lines. It cannot just bend anywhere and if it bends over bone, bones don’t like to be bent and you are going to end up irritating both the bones and the tissues. We’ve been measuring exactly where that is for women and we’ll offer that to the manufacturers.

ME: On studs, before games I always hear players asking: ‘Should we wear the studs or the moulds?’ I know certain girls who’ve done ACL injuries when wearing studs and are afraid to wear them again. On a slippery pitch they’ll sacrifice playing well and risk slipping because they’re afraid of getting injured. They might slip but at least they’ll stay injury-free.

KK: This is tied in with the third thing we want to highlight – that the outsoles to the studs should be designed for women.

We see women have three times the risk of ACL injuries and the common feature for getting injured is planting the foot, getting stuck, and not being able to rotate the foot but instead rotating the knee.

Currently for men and women the length of studs and number of studs is the same yet when you go into the physics of it, the traction – the grip on the surface and how much you get stuck – is much higher in a women’s football boot.

Women need less than men because they weigh less and don’t have the same muscle mass so don’t generate the same power. When pushing off, they need less and so there’s an increased risk of ACL injury.

The survey we did showed that while women often change studs depending on the surface and the weather conditions, a large group actually don’t, which is quite interesting.

ME: As well as men and women, you mentioned ethnicities before. What variations have you found there?

KK: We tried to select clubs with a high level of diversity, especially in France, and we saw there’s a tendency for African or African-descended players to have a wider foot.

To give you an example from men’s football, one Premier League player signed a sponsorship agreement with a boot company and when they asked him what size he was, he said a size 14. Yet they measured his foot and he was a size 8.

So basically, there was a big gap between the end of the toe and the end of the boot. I went to one club where three black players told me the same. It’s players wearing one or two sizes too big.

Women tend to have two types of feet: a wide foot with quite flat arches and a wide Achilles tendon, and also a narrower foot with a high arch and slimmer Achilles tendon.

The big conclusion is we should be able to cover people from different ethnicities, whatever playing position, within these two types of footwear. That’s going to be our suggestion to the manufacturers – that you don’t just have one football boot but you have two that align with those two options.

ME: This is my biggest take – that you are actually doing research on women that’s not yet been done in men’s football because it’s so conservative. It’s what I love about women’s football, that maybe we can start different conversations. What good do you hope will come from this?

KK: Having an optimal football boot designed for women from a holistic perspective is the dream.

We’re going to pass on the information that we have to the manufacturers and then it’s their job to design football boots for women.

[eretzyisrael]

Short-sighted Israel could have resolved communal property issue

Writing in Maariv, Jacky Hugi explains why one person notable by her absence from the recent inauguration of the renovated Ben Ezra synagogue in Cairo was the  Jewish ‘community’ head, Magda Haroun. The inauguration is an opportunity to  examine exactly who owns Jewish communal property in Arab countries. It is  a neglected issue, and the Israeli government  has never dealt seriously with it. (With thanks: Boruch)

Exterior of the recently renovated Ben Ezra synagogue

The reasons for Magda’s  absence lie in her strained relationship with the organizers of the ceremony, the members of the Supreme Antiquities Authority. Although the Egyptian government financed the renovation and initiated it, the key is in the hands of the community, and they are the authority to decide when to open the place.  As of today, almost two weeks after it was renovated, the site is closed to visitors until the head of the community decides to open it. Soon, probably, the winds will calm down, and this unique site will be opened to visitors. Tourists and locals, including many non-Jews, usually visit this special place and hear the wonderful story of the Geniza, look up to its second floor and look for the narrow opening through which Jews  threw the documents of the Holy Scriptures for hundreds of years.

Ben Ezra is not the only synagogue in Egypt. Throughout the city there are 12 synagogues, and there are even active ones (the Maadi synagogue is only used over the High Holydays – ed). This renovation provides an opportunity to discuss an issue that goes beyond the boundaries of the religious sites in Cairo –  the ownership of Jewish property in Arab countries where the last Jews still live. For example Egypt, Iraq, Syria and Yemen. In these countries, and others, there remains much public property that was in the hands of the community, as well as spiritual treasures such as books and scriptures. In Egypt, for example, the government realized decades ago that Jewish properties are a tourist treasure, and declared them national property. In Iraq, on the other hand, the community property is in the hands of the handful of Jews (three) who still remain there. What will happen when the last Jews in these communities pass away, who will own the properties accumulated over hundreds of years and left behind?

If they were not without vision, it is possible that Israel’s governments over the years could have found a solution to this issue decades ago. But Israel decided to sacrifice the cultural treasures of the Jewish communities in Arab countries. In the various contacts with the Palestinians, and also in the statements of our leaders, the governments of Israel subordinated the property issue of Arab Jews to the permanent agreement with the Palestinians. These countries know from now on that they are under no obligation to enter into negotiations regarding the fate of the property of the Jews living there, as long as the Palestinians have not received their property as part of a peace agreement with Israel. The Ministry of Diaspora Affairs, or various departments of the government ministries that dealt with the Diaspora, have never seriously dealt with this issue. This does not mean that Israel should have claimed this property for itself. But it was certainly possible to establish, through diplomatic means and over the years, even with countries with which it has no relations, outlines for handling property and holy books. Whom do they belong to, who will the financial profits they generate go to, and how to preserve them in the best way.

Currently, it is not known what will happen to the property after the end of these communities. Especially in countries that have experienced wars, such as Yemen, Iraq and Syria, where such assets could be prey for looters.

Read article in full (Hebrew)

The post Short-sighted Israel could have resolved communal property issue appeared first on Point of No Return.

[magdasabs]

siphillipstalkschelsea.substack.com/p/heres-to-you-magda-eriksson?sd=pf 🥲

that was a fantastic article!

[ananke-xiii]

(TW- fictional incest) What do you think about the possibility of a romantic relationship between Sam & Mary? Like not in a 'I ship this' way, but rather in a 'that's something that would be interesting to see explored in thr story' way. I am aware that SPN, for all it’s blood and blasphemy, was not a grownup enough show to handle that dynamic in a sophisticated way. Thoughts?

Thank you for your question and wow, this is a really big one, I’m not sure I can answer in a satisfying way but I’ll do my best!

I’ve broken down your question in three parts, let’s start from the easiest :P

"The show was not grownup enough to handle that dynamic in a sophisticated way":

I think one of the reasons why SPN is so loved and has inspired so many people to write *things (fanfics, articles, metas, you name it)* about it is because it’s so rich in terms of myths it’s insane. I’m not simply referring to “the lore” but, from a storytelling pov, you can explore so many themes it’s difficult to choose from: two brothers’ rivalry, the spouse’s blind vengeance for their partner’s death, the mother dying to protect her son, offspring carrying the sins of their parents (just to name a few)… I mean, literally it’s crazy, this is the stuff ancient mythology is made of.

So, on one hand, I give credit where credit is due and, in this case, to SPN writers because they somehow managed to weave (not always successfully) all these difficult threads together. The show lasted for 15 seasons because the actors were hot, yes, but also because the storytelling foundations were solid. On the other hand, it was maybe “a little bit of everything all of the time” and this translated sometimes into superficiality, some other times into “let’s sacrifice the plot on the altar of X theme” and it didn’t always work out.

I’m saying all this because, after s5, the biggest event in terms of foundational themes is the return of Mary. Carver spent his tenure as showrunner to reach that apex and it was a pity that he wasn’t the one who completed that arc. I think he was an interesting writer and he was clearly heavily invested into exploring the theme of family and the taboos pertaining to it. To sum it up: the show could’ve handled Mary and Sam’s relationship, they had all the raw materials ready to use and indeed they used them. How? Let’s see…

 “that's something that would be interesting to see explored in the story”:

I think that they’ve explored their relationship in s12. One of the possible readings for Mary in that season is that they basically gave her the 101 of s1-5 Sam’s arc. Mary is similar to Sam, like a lot. At least she's so narratively speaking. She starts off being thrown back in a world she didn’t want to be part of anymore and ends up in a different dimension with Lucifer. Sounds familiar?

The relationship between Sam and Mary, however, is not so much portrayed in much needed screen-time between the two characters (to my distress) but it’s prevalently mirrored in their MOTW episodes. And, let me tell you, it’s not a good one. I’d like to explore each episode but I don’t want to kidnap your precious time on this planet so I’ll just use “American Nightmare” as an example (also because it’s a great episode).

Yes, Magda has psychic abilities so the parallel with Sam is blatant. She is also considered The Devil by her mother. Oh-oh. She’s also a prisoner who’s forced to torture herself and bleed for her sins. Oh shit. Sam is pissed at Gail, Magda’s mother (“God didn't kill your daughter. You did”). Later, Gail will try to murder her whole family, her husband’s the first to go, then her son steps in to protect Magda and, eventually, Sam manages to convince Magda not to kill her mother. Meanwhile, Sam is tied up to a chair, unable to do anything but screaming. I thinks he feels a bit castrated. Interesting. From what I can infer, Sam is subconsciously livid at this mother. He hasn’t healed his separation wound. This is why he’s the first to smell something’s off with Mary even though she’s basically a stranger to him. This is also why he doesn’t even make an attempt at reaching her, the ties between them are very much severed. Of course, consciously he wants to know his mother and play the good-kid role for her. But scratch that surface and Sam’s totally not okay with Mary. And what about her? She feels guilty. Guilty for her past actions and guilty because she understandably doesn’t feel a real connection with the two adults in front of her. So she does the Sammest thing ever (but levelled-up) and asks for space to breathe. You see, it’s very very complicated.

The show has explored their relationship but only in the foreground and only via the MOTW episodes. Dean’s got his moment with Mary because, of course, this is also about him and he had to have it but, from the story pov, he was also the reason why she was back on earth so, you know, they had to complete that arc for him. That was okay with me as I was hoping that s13 had something more in store but it was a total disappointment as far as Mary and Sam’s relationship is concerned (well, tbh, it was a disappointment as far as everything is concerned but okay). So, again, to sum it up: I think the show explored Sam and Mary’s relationship specifically in s12 but what we’re offered is nothing exceptionally encouraging because there is a rift between them (seriously, s12 ends with a literal rift: symbolically it represents birth as both coming into the world and being separated from the world: the ties between The Mother and The Son are forever severed).

"a romantic relationship between Sam & Mary":

It’s time for the difficult part. Surprisingly, it’s also something I think about a lot.

Short premise: I adhere to a school of thought according to which stories are ways to explore our conscious and unconscious mind (mostly the second). Characters in a story play the role of some of the parts of our mind we cannot reach. For instance, I believe that it’s possible to interpret siblings in a story as the different side of the same coin representing a single part of our mind. Basically, siblings in story symbolize opposite things that must be integrated in order to move on. In a word, everything I’ll say from now on must be interpreted as symbolical.

As I said, I think that Sam and Mary’s relationship’s main feature is separation. Interestingly, there’s an ancient myth that combines the themes of motherhood, separation, romantic union and… castration. I’m talking about the myth of Attis which, I believe, could’ve been a way to explore Sam and Mary’s relationship.

Like all ancient myths revolving around the archetype of the Great Mother there are many different versions of this story. This is one of them (I apologize in advance for the deplorable retelling of such an ancient and fascinating myth): Agdistis was an ancient hermaphrodite deity closely related to the cult of The Great Mother of whom other deities were afraid of. They decided to tie them to a tree and evirate them. From their male genitalia an almond tree was born. Nana, the daughter of a river-god, picked one almond and became pregnant with Attis. He was later abandoned and raised by goats. Agdistis met him and fell in love with him. Attis was supposed to marry the king’s daughter and Agdistis, in the grip of jealousy, made Attis go insane and he ended up evirating himself by a tree.

Why am I talking about castration and mothers? Well, because this is a story about the separation wound, specifically pertaining to virility. It’s also a story that ends where it begins and this is exactly there s12 starts and ends too. Imo, it can be applied to Sam and Mary, too. Agdistis (Mary) being The Great Mother, the Alpha and the Omega, is separated from something that’s theirs in a brutal and coercive way. They are tied up and dismembered. Attis is born because of a violent act of separation that he’s forced to repeat. Sam as Attis also ends up tied up and dismembered in a brutal and coercive way. He has no voice at all. The two are basically the same person because they were the same person before separation happened. I know this all sounds sad but in ancient Rome they used to have a festival in Attis honor where people whipped themselves (just like Magda, come to think of it) to symbolize Attis’ castration and consequent death and, the next day, they would celebrate his resurrection (it’s a festival closely associated with Easter and it was celebrated around the same period, i.e. spring equinox).

To sum up: romantic relationship can’t even begin to cover how messed up Sam and Mary’s relationship is. We’re talking about The Love Above All, the unconditional love, something that, unfortunately, Sam has never discovered in the series. Mary was an opportunity for him to integrate this part and be able to move on a little with his life. Mary’s a bit different because in s13 we see that her guilt eases up a bit as she sees the world where she didn’t make the choices she made. Still, in terms of her relationship with Sam, working together, getting to know him would have maybe worked wonders in accepting that a part of her life was taken from her forever but that didn’t mean that all is lost. Reconnection and reunion are always possibilities.

Okay, wow, that was a lot. I still don’t know if I was up to the task, I did my best! Thanks again for your question, again, it’s a big one but I loved writing about it! I hope you enjoyed reading it (fingers crossed)!

[djuvlipen]

In the post from yesterday you mentioned segregated schools and I was wondering if you either had made a post about that yet or if you'd be interested in talking about that some?

Hi! So I don't think I've made a specific post about that yet. One of the reasons is that anything that has to do with Roma and access to proper education could be the subject of several 900 page long books lol. I briefly talked about it on my previous pinned post (x) though. I definitely could make a post about that in the future!

If you want to dig more into this, here are some articles that talk about segregation of Roma in schools. They are all pretty recent (the earliest is from 2010 and the latest is from 2023) and tackle different countries (North Macedonia, Slovakia, Hungary, and Russia):

[ariel-seagull-wings]

ALICE IN WONDERLAND'S BRAZILIAN PORTUGUESE VOICE CAST

@thealmightyemprex @themousefromfantasyland @the-blue-fairie @princesssarisa

Alice no ​país das Maravilhas (1951 Dub):

Transcription :

Character's Name

Voice Actor

Alice

Therezinha

White Rabbit Coelho Branco

Mattinhos

Queen of Hearts ​Rainha de Copas

Sarah Nobre

Tweedledee

Apollo Corrêa

Tweedledum

​Túlio Berti

Mad Hatter ​Chapeleiro Maluco

Otávio França

March Hare Lebre de Março

Orlando Drummond

Caterpillar ​Lagarta

Wellington Botelho

Cheshire Cat ​Mestre Gato

Jorge Goulart

Dodo ​Dodô

Almirante

Walrus ​Morsa

Hamilton Ferreira

Carpenter ​Carpinteiro

José Vasconcellos

Alice's Sister ​Irmã de Alice

Sônia Barreto

Doorknob ​Maçaneta

Duarte de Moraes

Bill the Lizard ​Abílio

João de Barro

King of Hearts ​Rei de Copas

Germano

Dormouse ​Ratinho

Orlando Drummond

Bird in Tree Pássaro na Árvore

Suzy Kirby

Mother Oyster Mamãe Ostra

Apollo Corrêa

Baby Oysters

?

Flowers

​Suzy Kirby Rosita Rocha Ema D'Ávila Sílvia Maria Eda Niemar Lolita Freire Magda Marialba Célia Moraes Lêda Maria Wanda Xavier da Silveira Teresa Carneiro

Playing Cards

​Albertinho Fortuna Paulo Tapajós Nuno Roland

Chorus ​Coro

Trio Madrigal ​Trio Melodia

Songs :

Song Title

Singer(s)

Alice in Wonderland ​Alice no país das Maravilhas

Trio Melodia ​Trio Madrigal

In a World of My Own ​Um mundo so meu

Therezinha

I'm Late ​É tarde

Mattinhos

A Sailor's Hornpipe ​Canção do Dodô

Almirante

The Caucus Race Corrida do Seca-Seca

Almirante ​Trio Melodia

How Do Ye Do (Shake Hands) Como passou e aperte minha mão

Apollo Corrêa ​​Túlio Berti

The Walrus and the Carpenter ​As ostras curiosas

Apollo Corrêa ​​Túlio Berti Hamilton Ferreira ​José Vasconcellos

Old Father William ​O papai Guilhermino

Apollo Corrêa ​​Túlio Berti

We'll Smoke the Blighter Out ​Nós vamos defumar

Almirante Mattinhos

All the Golden Afternoon Jardim de flores

Trio Melodia ​Trio Madrigal Therezinha

A-E-I-O-U

Wellington Botelho

Twas Brilling ​Canção do gato

Jorge Goulart

A Very Merry Unbirthday Canção do Desaniversário

Otávio França ​Orlando Drummond

Very Good Advice ​Um bom conselho

Therezinha

Painting the Roses Red Pintando rosas cor de carmim

Trio Melodia ​Therezinha

Technical Credits :

Occupation

Person's Name

Director ​Direção

Gilberto Souto

Translation ​Tradução

Gilberto Souto Vinicius de Moraes

Musical Director Direção musical

João de Barro

Lyricist Tradução de canções

João de Barro ​Vinicius de Moraes

Sound Engineer Técnico de som

Norival Reis

Creative Supervisor ​Supervisão de dublagem

Gilberto Souto

Mixing Studio Estúdio de mixagem

The Walt Disney Studios, Burbank, CA

Dubbing Studio Estúdio de dublagem

Continental Discos, Rio de Janeiro

1995 Dub :

Voice Cast :

Character's Name

Voice Actor

Alice

Adriana Torres

White Rabbit

Cleonir dos Santos

Queen of Hearts

Nelly Amaral

Tweedledee

Paulo Vignolio

Tweedledum

Alexandre Moreno

Mad Hatter

Issac Bardavid

March Hare

Alfredo Martins

Caterpillar

Márcio Seixas

Cheshire Cat

Marco Ribeiro

Dodo

Jomeri Pozzoli

Walrus

Joaquim "Luiz" Motta

Carpenter

Leonel Abrantes

Alice's Sister

Vera Miranda

Doorknob

Leonardo José

Bill the Lizard

Pedro Eugênio

King of Hearts

?

Dormouse

Miriam Ficher

Bird in Tree

Maria da Penha

Mother Oyster

Marly Ribeiro

Baby Oysters

?

Flowers

Geisa Vidal Peterson Adriano Miriam Ficher Ana Lúcia Menezes Silvia Goiabeira Selma Lopes Nelly Amaral Elza Martins

Playing Cards

José Luiz Barbeito André Bellisar ​?

Technical Credits :

Occupation

Person's Name

Director ​Direção

Telmo Perle Münch

Translation ​Tradução

Telmo Perle Münch

Sound Engineer Técnico de som

?

Dubbing Studio Estúdio de dublagem

Herbert Richers - Rio de Janeiro

Sources :

1951 Dub : Newspaper Articles 2000 VHS Release 2000 U.K. DVD Release Leonardo Forli

1995 Dub : Leonardo Forli

Trivia :

Premiere : 06/30/1952

Re-release : 02/04/1978

Premiere : 12/24/1995 (TV dubbing)

There are two Brazilian Portuguese dubbings of this film. The first from 1951 and the second from 1995.

The first dubbing is the official dubbing and is available on all home video releases.

The recording of the 1951 dub only took 4 months. Gilberto Souto (the director, translator, and supervisor) arrived in Brazil on 04/21/1951 and returned to the USA on 08/02/1951.

On the 2000 U.K. DVD release, the Brazilian Portuguese 1951 credits are included but there are errors. Mattinhos is credited as "Estevam Correa Mattos" (which is his real name) as the White Rabbit. The Cheshire Cat was credited to ​José Vasconcellos, but in reality, he was voiced by Jorge Goulart. Goulart sued Disney in 1996 for royalties of his voice being used on the home video releases of Cinderella and Alice in Wonderland. The King of Hearts is credited to João Dias Lopes, which is the real name of Germano. ​José Vasconcellos is also credited to the Mother Oyster, but in reality, she was voiced by Apollo Corrêa.

The second dubbing was done for the SBT television network for Christmas 1995 and was only shown on TV. This dubbing is not included on any home media release.

In the second dubbing, only one song was dubbed. That song being "I'm Late." This extract was treated as spoken dialogue and was dubbed. All of the other songs were in English with Brazilian Portuguese subtitles.

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