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2:55
With over 100 000 charities in the UK, specialist insurer Hiscox has launched a new Charities insurance product. John Heaney, Head of Professions and Speciality Commercial at Hiscox tells us more. Find all News Insurances videos here : live.news-assurances****/​category/​interview-uk/​ And here : news-insurances****/​category/​video-interviews
29 Dec 2010
723
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1:06
Seamus Heaney reads his poem The Forge The Forge by Seamus Heaney (1939-) All I know is a door into the dark. Outside, old axles and iron hoops rusting; Inside, the hammered anvil's short-pitched ring, The unpredictable fantail of sparks Or hiss when a new shoe toughens in water. The anvil must be somewhere at the centre, Horned as a unicorn, at one end square, Set there immoveable: an altar Where he expends himself in shape and music. Sometimes, leather-aproned, hairs in his nose, He leans out on the jamb, recalls a clatter Of hoofs where traffic is flashing in rows; Then grunts and goes in, with a slam and a flick To beat real iron out, to work the bellows.
19 Sep 2011
857
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1:29
Seamus Heaney reads his poem Mid-Term Break at the National Gallery of Ireland. Mid-Term Break by Seamus Heaney (1939-) I sat all morning in the college sick bay Counting bells knelling classes to a close. At two o'clock our neighbors drove me home. In the porch I met my father crying — He had always taken funerals in his stride — And Big Jim Evans saying it was a hard blow. The baby cooed and laughed and rocked the pram When I came in, and I was embarrassed By old men standing up to shake my hand And tell me they were "sorry for my trouble," Whispers informed strangers I was the eldest, Away at school, as my mother held my hand In hers and coughed out angry tearless sighs. At ten o'clock the ambulance arrived With the corpse, stanched and bandaged by the nurses. Next morning I went up into the room. Snowdrops And candles soothed the bedside; I saw him For the first time in six weeks. Paler now, Wearing a poppy bruise on his left temple, He lay in the four foot box as in his cot. No gaudy scars, the bumper knocked him clear. A four foot box, a foot for every year.
13 Sep 2011
746
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1:15
Seamus Heaney reads from The Cure At Troy, his translation of The Philoctetes by Sophocles - The Convention Centre, Dublin 18 March 2011 - The verses are spoken by the chorus at the end of the play. Human Beings Suffer From The Cure At Troy by Seamus Heaney (1939-) CHORUS: Human beings suffer, They torture one another, They get hurt and get hard. No poem or play or song Can fully right a wrong Inflicted and endured. History says, don't hope On this side of the grave. But then, once in a lifetime The longed-for tidal wave Of justice can rise up, And hope and history rhyme. So hope for a great sea-change On the far side of revenge. Believe that a farther shore Is reachable from here. Believe in miracles And cures and healing wells. Call miracle self-healing: The utter, self-revealing Double-take of feeling. If there's fire on the mountain And lightning and storm And a god speaks from the sky That means someone is hearing The outcry and the birth-cry Of new life at its term. It means once in a lifetime That justice can rise up And hope and history rhyme.
13 Sep 2011
1637
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1:15
Seamus Heaney reads his poem Postscript at The Convention Centre, Dublin on 18 March 2011 Postscript by Seamus Heaney (1939-) And some time make the time to drive out west Into County Clare, along the Flaggy Shore, In September or October, when the wind And the light are working off each other So that the ocean on one side is wild With foam and glitter, and inland among stones The surface of a slate-grey lake is lit By the earthed lightning of a flock of swans, Their feathers roughed and ruffling, white on white, Their fully grown headstrong-looking heads Tucked or cresting or busy underwater. Useless to think you'll park and capture it More thoroughly. You are neither here nor there, A hurry through which known and strange things pass As big soft buffetings come at the car sideways And catch the heart off guard and blow it open.
13 Sep 2011
732
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8:20
A superb tune here, definitely my fav track of Garry Heaney by a long mile. Beautiful breakdown, top trance tune ! Buy it here: *******www.beatport****/#track/check-mate-original-mix/1152715
29 Jan 2012
309
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2:47
Nick Heaney, Kayla Tabish, Wizardream, Omar Akram Album Release Beverly Hills (October 30th, 2013) – Critter Sitters LA , SPONSORS the RealTVfilms coverage with Comedian and Host Traci Stumpf for the Grammy Winner Omar Akram’s Album Release Party at H.O.M.E (House Of Music & Entertainment) in Beverly Hills. The Celebrity Guest List is filled to capacity and H.O.M.E is located at 430 N. Camden Dr., Beverly Hills 90210. Feature Interviews with Traci Stumpf will be with the evenings host, Grammy Winner Omar Akram and Mrs. United Nation International Carla Gonzalez. ABOUT CRITTER SITTERS LA – Stacy Gerson Kahn has owned and operated Critter Sitters L.A. since 1989. One of the original petsitters in the area, Stacy brings her knowledge, experience and love of animals to every client she has. She is a state certified animal care consultant, and has done volunteer work for the LASPCA in the animal assisted therapy department. Critter Sitters L.A. is a safe, secure and sensible alternative that provides extra protection for your home and qualified professional care for your pets
2 Nov 2013
800
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0:53
Kayla Tabish and Nick Heaney with Kelly Calabrese on the Red Carpet for the, "Return To The Hiding Place", Sundance Screening. PLOT: When the Nazis begin killing Jews in Holland, a group of youth fight to save the lives of the innocent.
27 Jan 2014
278
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3:30
Bud Stone Heritage Award winner, Nathan Levine-Heaney, who received the award for the graduate competition, talks to us about the RED ONE camera, his workflow and how he got nominated for the ASC award.
2 Mar 2009
400
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2:50
3BL Media CSR Report: Susan Arnot Heaney, Director, Corporate Responsibility, Avon. Learn more about the Focal Point USA Event:*******www.globalreporting****/AboutGRI/WhoWeAre/FocalPoints/FocalPointUnitedStatesLandingPage.htm Watch this and other CSR Report podcasts: *******3blmedia****/3bltv.
25 Feb 2011
254
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1:45
Seamus Heaney reads his poem Digging Digging by Seamus Heaney (1939-) Between my finger and my thumb The squat pen rests; as snug as a gun. Under my window a clean rasping sound When the spade sinks into gravelly ground: My father, digging. I look down Till his straining rump among the flowerbeds Bends low, comes up twenty years away Stooping in rhythm through potato drills Where he was digging. The coarse boot nestled on the lug, the shaft Against the inside knee was levered firmly. He rooted out tall tops, buried the bright edge deep To scatter new potatoes that we picked Loving their cool hardness in our hands. By God, the old man could handle a spade, Just like his old man. My grandfather could cut more turf in a day Than any other man on Toner's bog. Once I carried him milk in a bottle Corked sloppily with paper. He straightened up To drink it, then fell to right away Nicking and slicing neatly, heaving sods Over his shoulder, digging down and down For the good turf. Digging. The cold smell of potato mold, the squelch and slap Of soggy peat, the curt cuts of an edge Through living roots awaken in my head. But I've no spade to follow men like them. Between my finger and my thumb The squat pen rests. I'll dig with it.
12 Sep 2011
709
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1:38
Seamus Heaney reads his poem Digging Digging by Seamus Heaney (1939-) Between my finger and my thumb The squat pen rests; as snug as a gun. Under my window a clean rasping sound When the spade sinks into gravelly ground: My father, digging. I look down Till his straining rump among the flowerbeds Bends low, comes up twenty years away Stooping in rhythm through potato drills Where he was digging. The coarse boot nestled on the lug, the shaft Against the inside knee was levered firmly. He rooted out tall tops, buried the bright edge deep To scatter new potatoes that we picked Loving their cool hardness in our hands. By God, the old man could handle a spade, Just like his old man. My grandfather could cut more turf in a day Than any other man on Toner's bog. Once I carried him milk in a bottle Corked sloppily with paper. He straightened up To drink it, then fell to right away Nicking and slicing neatly, heaving sods Over his shoulder, digging down and down For the good turf. Digging. The cold smell of potato mold, the squelch and slap Of soggy peat, the curt cuts of an edge Through living roots awaken in my head. But I've no spade to follow men like them. Between my finger and my thumb The squat pen rests. I'll dig with it.
12 Sep 2011
745
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1:49
Seamus Heaney reads his poem The Tollund Man The Tollund Man by Seamus Heaney (1939-) I Some day I will go to Aarhus To see his peat-brown head, The mild pods of his eye-lids, His pointed skin cap. In the flat country near by Where they dug him out, His last gruel of winter seeds Caked in his stomach, Naked except for The cap, noose and girdle, I will stand a long time. Bridegroom to the goddess, She tightened her torc on him And opened her fen, Those dark juices working Him to a saint's kept body, Trove of the turfcutters' Honeycombed workings. Now his stained face Reposes at Aarhus. II I could risk blasphemy, Consecrate the cauldron bog Our holy ground and pray Him to make germinate The scattered, ambushed Flesh of labourers, Stockinged corpses Laid out in the farmyards, Tell-tale skin and teeth Flecking the sleepers Of four young brothers, trailed For miles along the lines. III Something of his sad freedom As he rode the tumbril Should come to me, driving, Saying the names Tollund, Grauballe, Nebelgard, Watching the pointing hands Of country people, Not knowing their tongue. Out here in Jutland In the old man-killing parishes I will feel lost, Unhappy and at home.
26 Sep 2011
1376
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