Lorena Bradford started monthly tours in American Sign Language, established a program for individuals with memory loss, and brought in medical students to learn soft skills to apply in their caregiving. 'I was a sub-department of one,' she joked to writer Emma Cieslik, who spoke with Bradford over Zoom and at the NGA about her own circuitous path into the profession, and the future of the field of museum accessibility.
Mr. Darcy is its stern romantic lead. He has a massive income from his estate - 10,000 pounds a year - and, according to the novel's witty protagonist, Elizabeth Bennet, just as large of a stick up his ass. Jane Austen was not one to go for lengthy physical descriptions of things, but we do know that when he enters a room, he draws people's attention with a "fine, tall person, handsome features," and a "noble mien."
Some things are out of our control. But what is in our control, is our ability to support one another. And ensure that we do not allow fear to keep us from experiencing something that could be truly special.
Thatcher rose to power on the back of a campaign to Make Britain Great Again-a promise to reverse the previous two decades of austerity, imperial contraction, and stagnating modernization. By 1979, the country was undeniably in decline-not just materially but on a more ineffable level, too. Divested of the unifying effect of global superpower status, the increasingly dis-United Kingdom's common identity was now an open, and anxious, question.
The Oxford Artisan Distillery (TOAD) produces its whiskey, gin, vodka and liqueur from heritage wheat and rye varieties rediscovered in the thatch of medieval roofs. It's an example of the extraordinary lengths the distillers go here to create their unique flavours while building a regenerative farming system along the way. Tour the distillery to find out all about the processes involved,
Why, Damon, why, why, why so pressing? The Heart you beg's not worth possessing: Each Look, each Word, each Smile's affected, And inward Charms are quite neglected: Then scorn her, scorn her, foolish Swain, And sigh no more, no more in vain. Beauty's worthless, fading, flying; Who would for Trifles think of dying? Who for a Face, a Shape wou'd languish, And tell the Brooks, and Groves his Anguish, Till she, till she thinks fit to prize him, And all, and all beside despise him?
Dream-Pedlary i. If there were dreams to sell. What would you buy? Some cost a passing bell; Some a light sigh, That shakes from Life's fresh crown Only a rose-leaf down. If there were dreams to sell, Merry and sad to tell, And the crier rung the bell, What would you buy? ii. A cottage lone and still, With bowers nigh,
