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William Boynton Butler

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William Boynton Butler was my grandfather's oldest brother, fondly known as Uncle Willie by my branch of the family, and as Uncle Billie by his wife Clara's family. Sadly I never got the chance to meet him as he died before I was born. He was awarded the Victoria Cross for an extremely brave action during the First World War, shielding a passing troop of infantry from a mis-fired mortar round with his own body until they were safely past, risking being blown to pieces. I gather from family chatter that he was an unassuming man, somewhat embarrassed at the subsequent fuss, perhaps because his actions were an instinctive reaction to the situation, or perhaps because all the men who fought in that war risked their lives daily in the trenches, and many didn't survive. I've published a number of newspaper clippings and photographs collated by my aunt, along with his citation, army records, and a brief biography to our Family Tree . William Boynton Butler - Biography ...
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Stretch yawn faint

Occasionally I'm overwhelmed with the urge to have a really good stretch, tensing my muscles until they tremble, tipping my head back and unleashing a full on yawn. Lately this is followed by a faint spell - the world goes distant, my vision fades, and everything gets a bit woozy. After a few breaths the world re-intrudes, and normality resumes. It hasn't concerned me, but after a particularly strong episode today my curiosity was peaked, and I typed 'stretch yawn faint' into Google (hallowed be thy results, for thine is the engine, the spider and the crawler) to see what cropped up. It turns out the combo of stretching and tipping the head back starves the brain of oxygen. The stretch lengthens the blood vessels causing a blood pressure drop, whilst it also creates demand for oxygen in the tensing muscles, and finally the head tip constricts an artery in the neck which cuts off the blood to the brain. I'm not sure how common it is in absolute terms, but the f...
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Folly laid bare

I'm in a dark place. Storm clouds have rolled in to block out the sunlight, leaving the world tinged in that sickly yellow light that precedes a thunderstorm. Gulls circle overhead, and beneath me the waters swirl in a vortex that threatens to suck me deep into the maelstrom, where I would surely drown. Suddenly, my folly laid bare, I realise the ocean despises me and will not tolerate me to stay in its demesne. The strong might be allowed to swim its waters, but the weak and ill are fools to believe the sea to be as supportive as it appears. You might paddle in the shallow bay awhile, rising with the gentle swell, but tarry too long and the sea will test you, falter and the riptide is merciless. I had been so sad and lonely on the beach, watching my friends swimming back and forth, slowly recovering from the grievous injury that had washed me ashore. Fear and longing held me immobile for the longest time. 'Come in, you can do it,' urged the swimmers....
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