Did the Labour government improve people's lives? Are we healthier, wealthier or wiser; happier or safer than in 1997, when Labour came to power? If we are, how much do we have to thank Blair and Brown and their cabinets for? In The Verdict, Polly Toynbee and David Walker strip away spin, personality and political rhetoric to judge how our lives have changed. They consider Labour's lasting legacy and what its successors can learn from Labour's performance. Travelling the country, Toynbee and Walker compare Labour's promises with people's own accounts of what they experienced in recent years. They drop in on a Sure Start centre and visit schools, hospitals and colleges - and estates plagued by disorder - to ask: what different did Labour make? Combining sharp, witty writing, human stories and expert analysis, The Verdict charts Labour's often bewildering array of initiatives, projects and schemes. It questions how many depended on bubble finance and how many will be missed as recent public spending cuts take hold. From the early optimism of 'Things can only get better' to the misery of the financial crisis, Toynbee and Walker hand down the definitive judgement on Labour's record.

As imperfect beings, we continue to make mistakes during our lifetime on earth. We have all been affected by Adam's fall, but God in His Wisdom, has given us a second chance, through the sacrifice of His son Jesus who died on Calvary for our redemption. Because God has given us a second chance, He expects that we treat others in like manner. There is no need to carry the burden of guilt for our transgressions, because forgiveness is available to all of us if we so desire. But, we have to learn to forgive others, if we are to expect forgiveness for ourselves. Osmond Constance, born and educated in the West Indies, completed post High School Education in Texas, where he lives with his wife and daughter. He has worked in the Banking and Finance Industry for several decades. He is dedicated to the Lord and to his family, and is convinced that the Lord inspired him to write this book.

Life gives RJ two choices: stand by the woman he loves or give in to society that loves to prick and poke people. What will he choose? What begins as a fun story set in a college campus takes an emotional U-turn as young Rajeev, fondly called RJ by his friends, finds himself at the crossroads of life. While he is able to take a clear decision with respect to his career, RJ finds it hard to decide what is best when it comes to the people he loves the most. RJ is a simple boy from a middle-class Brahmin family. He falls in love with Jayati, who belongs to another caste. Thus begins the turmoil in his life. Caught between the love of his life on one hand and the pressures of family and society on the other, RJ undergoes a huge emotional see-saw. Will he succumb to societal pressure or chart a path that takes his love along? What is the final verdict? And what impact will his decision have on his loved ones? With all the relationship drama, college memories and real life challenges, The Verdict is a heart-rending emotional journey.

Reprint of the original, first published in 1863.

The Oboe Every occupation is marked with a boring monotony. With these words Dimitri would console himself every evening when he walked into the Opera House, swinging his oboe, nod to other orchestra players without a word, open the case and draw out his inseparable instrument, gently touching it with his short fingers. Then the huge chandelier would gradually fade like an old oil lamp, late arrivals would hurry to their seats as the conductor stepped onto the podium, raised his baton and the performance would begin. If it was a famous opera singer performing any particular night, Dimitri would occasionally rise during his pauses, standing on tiptoe to better see and hear the visiting singer. Otherwise the monotony was hardly ever broken. It was the same for the last thirty-five years, ever since Dimitri first joined Tbilisi Opera House orchestra when the great Sarajishvili performed as Abesalom and Don Jose. The same over and over again. Dimitri knew all the classical operas by heart. New and interesting was hard to compose, so there was nothing to stir the old music lover like Dimitri during the premiere rehearsals. Of course, every premiere was followed by reviews praising the director and lead singers, mentioning somewhere at the end that ‘the orchestra sounded wonderful’. That was it. Dimitri had never heard any other words of praise provided his oboe was included in this ‘wonderful sound’. True, along with some other orchestra players, Dimitri was awarded a medal for being part of the wartime orchestras entertaining the wounded World War II soldiers. Also, together with other players, he was formally thanked for his good work, but it always was along with ‘some other’ and ‘together with other’ players. Oh, no! Never had Dimitri even for a second considered himself any better than his fellow-players. He had never wished to be placed above them for his professionalism or any other reason. Never, but sometimes, on his way to the Opera or at bedtime, he would recall his young days in the village, girls, boys, the elders and his flute. How many had enjoyed his flute, how many hearts he made race faster, how many elderly people had kissed his forehead, asking the child to play more and clap for yet more. Those quickened heartbeats, those grateful kisses and encores belonged to him, were his and nobody else’s! But the city seemed to have swallowed the lad. In a way, Dimitri’s talent ended up diluted, lost among thousands like his or even better than his. Now it was those thousands that kisses were addressed to, others caused the listeners’ hearts to race, it was others who received all the clapping. True, Dimitri was part of it, but only as a small part, like a drop in a mighty waterfall. Gradually, Dimitri got accustomed to daytime rehearsals, evening performances and getting home late at night... Daily rehearsals, evening performances... But wait, something unusual happened that evening, returning to the nameless musician the joy and happiness he hadn’t felt since his childhood. That evening Daisi was performed. Dimitri didn’t open his oboe case when he returned home from the rehearsal. He just wrapped it in a fresh newspaper and at about seven in the evening set back to the Opera. It was some time already that he took to wrapping his oboe in a newspaper. Once a group of tipsy lads had mocked Dimitri. Saying he was as short as his instrument, they laughed, adding they wouldn’t hurt him out of pity. Dimitri didn’t confront them, uttered not a word, but began wrapping the oboe case in a newspaper. Now too, he was trying to get through the crowds along the pavement. No one noticed him, no one made way for him. As if Dimitri wasn’t there at all. The sea of people didn’t in the least care whether he was

Geoffrey Hastings is doing very well for himself: having survived the Great War, he is not only working for wealthy financier Sir John Smethurst but is engaged to his daughter, Emily. Hastings has a rival for Emily's affections in the form of Samuel McCorquodale, a successful businessman and both friend and rival of Sir John, and there is no love lost between the two men. Then Sir John is found murdered, and suspicion falls on Hastings until an unexpected alibi sets him free. But who did murder Sir John? Layer after layer of deception is peeled away until the shocking truth emerges . . .

After a perfectly decent local woman is killed during a robbery, the Witherspoon household receives a surprising visit from a stranger named Blimpey Groggins. He claims his best buddy was convicted of the crime. He also claims the peaceable chap didn't even know how to fire a gun. And considering he's to be hanged in three weeks, Blimpey's desperate to find the real killer. With the trail cold, the crime allegedly solved, and the evidence mucked up, Mrs. Jeffries and her belowstairs cohorts have their work cut out for them if they want to save an innocent man from the gallows. Praise for the Mrs Jeffries Mysteries: 'It's murder most English all the way!' The Literary Times 'Fascinating murder mystery . . . wit and style . . . a winning series. Mrs. Jeffries is the Miss Marple of Victorian Mystery' The Paperback Forum