Cosy crimes and gritty sagas by Corrie Blog editor Glenda, published by Headline. Click pic below! Posted by Glenda Young at Labels: carla connor , newsnow. Newer Post Older Post Home.
Subscribe to: Post Comments Atom. You might also like Spoilers for next week's Coronation Street, November 16 - 19 Here are the major storylines for the week ahead on Coronation Street, all wrapped up nicely in 50 words or less. Tuesday 16 to Friday 19 No Preview of tonight's Coronation Street - Wednesday 10 November Tonight opened with Corey and Stefan hiding out in an apparently disused factory as they had gone on the run on Wednesday.
Stefan contacted When are the council going to realise we're in a climate emergency? Normally this blog turns up on a Saturday or Sunday, while we'r Preview of tonight's Coronation Street - Monday 8 November Preview of tonight's Coronation Street - Tuesday 9 November Coronation Street themed cafe when Corrie Tours reopen in There's good news for fans who'd like to walk the cobbles on the Coronation Street Tour.
ITV have shared this update with the blog Imran is playing spaceships with their silent but smiley foster child, just before going off to play lawyer at Kelly's hearing. Last Wednesday, Corrie put me off a bit, I admit. The misery porn, Natasha's death, grief, guilt, and drunkenness. A cacophony of Corrie The bad feelings disappeared. I started to love the western world and thought of myself a necessary part of it. I moved around with ease, safely flashing my American passport, smiling brightly when customs officers squinted at my place of birth.
I had long ago been accepted. I had a stellar education. My confidence showed and maybe it helped that I had caramel highlights in my hair. Thank you for letting me in again. When I was 30, I had another citizenship ceremony. It was simply that I had married a French citizen, he had applied on my behalf, and, having passed the language and culture tests by a whisker, I became a Frenchwoman of sorts.
I travelled a lot in those days and so I decided to have my fingerprints taken the last step in the paperwork on a stopover in New York.
The police officer whose job it was to oversee the process asked why a nice girl like me needed fingerprints. They think I should feel lucky to have them. My second citizenship ceremony was held at the French embassy in Amsterdam my then home beside families from Lebanon, Turkey, Tunisia, Morocco and a number of sub-Saharan countries.
The image that stays with me is of families singing the French national anthem, the Marseillaise. The awe in their faces as they sang that song, every word practised, moved me. Even the small children straightened their shoulders and sang from memory. I had made a stab at memorising the words, but mostly I read off a sheet. I was proud, but they were experiencing something else: a transformation, a rebirth.
They were singing their way into a joyous new life. I took a moment to think of that old Indian man from years before, to do an imaginary fist-pump in his honour. One man in our community set himself on fire in Dam Square in He had lived in Amsterdam for a decade, following their rules, filling out their papers, learning their culture, his head always down. He did all that was asked of him and, in the end, he was driven to erase his own face, his skin.
Please stop asking people to rub out their face as tribute. Even those on the left talk about how immigrants make America great. They point to photographs of happy refugees turned good citizens, listing their contributions, as if that is the price of existing in the same country, on the same earth.
Friends often use me as an example. Is the life of the happy mediocrity a privilege reserved for those who never stray from home? My students have come with their families from all over the world and have empathy and insight, but for the most part, they have lived privileged lives.
Stories by immigrants and people of colour. Stories about poverty. Stories about being made to sit on the periphery. Most are loving it, but some are frustrated. Is he not entitled to crave death? Must he first pay off his debt to his hosts and to the universe?
Despite a lifetime spent striving to fulfil my own potential, of trying to prove that the west is better for having known me, I cannot accept this way of thinking, this separation of the worthy exile from the unworthy.
My accomplishments should belong only to me. There should be no question of earning my place, of showing that I was a good bet. My family and I were once humans in danger, and we knocked on the doors of every embassy we came across: the UK, America, Australia, Italy.
But what America did was a basic human obligation. It is the obligation of every person born in a safer room to open the door when someone in danger knocks.
Even if we remain a bunch of ordinary Iranians, sometimes bitter or confused. Even if the country gets overcrowded and you have to give up your luxuries, and we set up ugly little lives around the corner, marring your view.
I became a mother in a London hospital. Now I have a little girl who already looks Iranian. The first major event of her life was Brexit. At 5am on Brexit morning, as I was feeding her, the memory of my pinkie returned.
We had just learned of the referendum results. On Facebook, every former immigrant I knew released a collective shudder — all of them recalling their first days in England or America or Holland. They began sharing their stories. What I remembered was that boy who pushed my finger into the hinge of a door. That other boy who slammed the door shut. Most likely they believe the same things. Nowadays, I often look at the white line through my pinkie nail, and I think I finally understand why gratefulness matters so much.
The people who clarified it for me were my students, with their fresh eyes and stunning expectations, their harsh, idealistic standards that every person should strive and prove their worth, their eagerness to make sense of the world. Politicians spew enough hot air to raise the threat of global warming. It seems that instead of a virus pandemic we are suffering from a pandemic of stupidity with no one in charge.
He ought to turn an eye to the other side of the ledger, however, and do something about the tens of thousands of abandoned and orphan wells in the province. Now that profits are up, he ought to increase the levy on oil companies, to ensure the money is there when it comes time to decommission those wells.
Maybe not the best time to be worrying about that with the state of the province as it is. Re: QR codes. As a law-abiding citizen, when the Alberta government said we needed a copy of our COVID vaccinations, we downloaded the information and then had the paper laminated.
Now, the government says we must have a QR code by Nov. Could it be that this code has been deemed to be permanent? What other information might be included in this code in the future as there is no expiratory date! Well, folks a similar system exists in communist China. Send a letter to the editor. Vote in our daily online poll.
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