Proofreader/copy editor. Ex-bookseller, voracious reader, music fan, talker, amateur photographer, amateur drinker. The Doctor calls me 'Local Knowledge'.
Aberdare, Wales
Joined October 2013
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Julia Thorne 🏴 retweeted
ALT skullmandible tweet: " 'how were people writing 10 page papers before AI???' we were smarter than you. you could've been smart, too. but you sold your brain for nothing."
Julia Thorne 🏴 retweeted
❗️Blood stocks are low and expected to drop even further in the coming days❗️
We have more than 1,100 appointments available over the next fortnight 🗓️
We need your support to fill them and help patients across Wales! 🙏
Book now 👉 wbs.wales/autumn26
Julia Thorne 🏴 retweeted
Writers! Who needs a proofreader? The answer is every writer, and here's why. There's a lot more information in these FAQs: juliaproofreader.wordpress.c…… #WritingCommunity #amwriting #writerslife #WritersLife
Julia Thorne 🏴 retweeted
Humbled to have been able to attend the unveiling this morning of a purple plaque rightly honouring Nansi Williams who gave her life whilst shielding five children during the Aberfan Disaster.
Well done to all those involved in making this happen.
💜💜💜💜💜
Julia Thorne 🏴 retweeted
In 1952, an English teacher named Cecil Dormand secretly paid for a dirt-poor 11-year-old to take a drama course.
He never told him and the boy didn’t find out until decades later.
By then, he was a knight, that little boy’s name was Patrick Stewart.
He was born into a poor family in Mirfield, a small mill town in Yorkshire and his father came home from World War II a violent man, and he was violent toward Patrick’s mother.
Young Patrick learned exactly when to step between his father’s fist and his mother.
An English teacher put a copy of Shakespeare in his hand and told him to get up and perform.
He never stopped and left school at 15.
By 19 he was completely bald... most agencies told him he'd never make it because of that.
In 1987, the LA Times called him an “unknown British Shakespearean actor” when he was cast as Captain Picard.
Then he became one of the most famous faces on Earth.
You’ve probably heard that part.
Here’s the part you haven’t:
He spent decades as a patron of Refuge, sheltering women and children from domestic violence.
But he never stopped trying to understand his father.
He dug up a 1940 newspaper clipping that said his dad had come home with severe shell shock.
He went to France and walked the ground where his father’s unit was pinned down under bombing for hours.
He learned his father had PTSD, and nobody ever helped him.
So Patrick became an ambassador for Combat Stress, a charity that helps veterans.
In 2013, a young woman at a Texas convention told him she was a survivor of domestic violence.
He asked, “My dear, are you okay?”
Then he hopped off the stage, held her, and told her: “You never have to go through that again, you’re safe now.”
At Dragon Con, a Make-A-Wish girl dressed as Spock came to meet him.
2,000 people were waiting for him to speak... he sat down and talked with her for 15 minutes, making all of them wait.
He told her that since they were friends now, whenever she saw him on screen she could wave and say, “Hello Patrick.”
After 9/11, he felt helpless, so he brought his one-man A Christmas Carol back to Broadway for a full week of charity shows.
He played every character himself and donated every cent.
In 2019 he did it again, and every dollar went to feeding hungry New Yorkers.
In 2017, he fostered a pit bull named Ginger, who had been rescued from a dogfighting ring.
She was his first dog in more than 50 years.
He couldn’t bring her home to England, so he found her a family.
Then he kept fostering more.
When he said he was done with Star Trek so many people told him the show had gotten them through the hardest times of their lives.
So he wanted to see if Picard could do it one more time.
Rest in Peace, Sir Patrick 🖖
Julia Thorne 🏴 retweeted
In lieu of flowers, memorial contributions may be made to:
Johns Hopkins Alzheimer’s Disease Research Center Fund
alzresearch.org/giving/
Alzheimer’s Foundation of America Caregiver Resources
alzfdn.org/donate/
Photo Credit: Tommy Garcia
Julia Thorne 🏴 retweeted
Someone in Broadstairs in Kent has done this.
Whoever they are, I want to marry them.
Julia Thorne 🏴 retweeted
Tesco could pay every worker an extra £10,000 and still make a profit.
British Gas could pay every worker an extra £35,000 and still make a profit.
Shell could pay every worker an extra £300,000 and still make a profit.
It is the billionaires who are ripping you off.
Julia Thorne 🏴 retweeted
A great rant from a friend:
“I don't know who's running the British newspapers at the moment, but I reckon somebody's accidentally given the editorial jobs to a bunch of fucking doomsday preppers.
Have you seen the absolute state of the news lately?
World War Three. Nuclear Armageddon. Russian cyberattacks. Chinese hackers. Emergency survival kits. How to prepare for the end of civilisation.
Every bloody newspaper seems to be running the same story.
You'd think Vladimir Putin had been spotted at Dover services with a tank and a packed lunch.
And apparently, the most important thing we can do to prepare for all this is go shopping.
Seriously.
We're being advised to stockpile food, water, torches, batteries and enough toilet roll to survive the collapse of Western civilisation.
Do they genuinely believe we're all going to read these articles, leap off the sofa and charge down to Asda like there's a fucking trolley dash on?
I reckon somebody's looked at the Christmas retail figures and thought, "How can we get these bastards to spend another two hundred quid?"
"Tell them the Russians are coming."
"Brilliant. We'll shift those seventeen pallets of corned beef we've had sitting in the warehouse since Easter."
And what exactly am I supposed to do with all these emergency supplies if there's a nuclear attack?
Imagine it.
You're sitting in your living room, minding your own business, when suddenly there's an enormous flash outside.
The windows explode. The roof comes off. There's a nuclear shockwave tearing through the city, flattening everything in its path.
And there you are, crawling across the kitchen floor, desperately trying to get the fucking tin opener out of the drawer.
"QUICK! SOMEBODY GET THE BEANS!"
What fucking difference are beans going to make?
You're about to be vaporised at several thousand degrees. I don't think the nutritional benefits of baked beans are going to be particularly relevant.
But the politicians are the funniest part of all this.
Angela Rayner was asked what she'd be stockpiling.
Sauvignon Blanc and mascara.
Sauvignon Blanc and fucking mascara!
I love that.
The world's coming to an end, millions could die, civilisation might collapse, but Angela's making sure she's got a decent bottle of white and her eyelashes done.
Then Andy Burnham comes along telling people not to stockpile alcohol because they need to keep a clear head.
Well, thank Christ we've got that sorted.
One politician's preparing for the apocalypse like she's going to an all-inclusive resort in Tenerife, and another's telling everybody to drink responsibly.
And apparently Andy's emergency supplies include Twiglets.
Fucking Twiglets.
I mean, at what point did the national security discussion turn into everybody comparing what they've brought to a children's birthday party?
We're supposedly facing the possibility of World War Three, and our political leaders are having a conversation that wouldn't sound out of place in the middle aisle of Aldi.
And then there's the cyberattack warnings.
Apparently, Russia or China could launch a massive cyberattack and bring down our communications, electricity supplies and essential services.
Right.
And what am I supposed to do about that?
Unplug the kettle?
Put the laptop in a biscuit tin?
I can just imagine some highly trained Russian cyberwarfare specialist sitting in Moscow, surrounded by millions of pounds' worth of sophisticated computer equipment.
"Comrade, we have penetrated the British national infrastructure."
"Excellent. Shut down their electricity."
"We cannot, sir."
"Why not?"
"Some bastard in Ellesmere Port has wrapped his Virgin Media router in fucking Bacofoil."
It's a good job Churchill isn't around to witness this.
"We shall fight them on the beaches. We shall fight in the fields and in the streets. We shall never surrender."
"Unless we've run out of Pot Noodles, in which case we're absolutely fucked."
What a fucking pantomime.”
