Friday, July 30, 2021

Learning Time Table July And August 2021 Karykram

 Learning Time Table July And August 2021 Karykram The episode will be telecasted from ahmedabad doordarshan kendra DD girnar july and August to guide the students and the teacher. Gujarat Education Technology limited the comany which prepared these projects made a presentation on the  operation of G-Shala and Gyansetu to the chief minister and dignitaries.

        Vrukshmandir is temple without walls and roof.first of all a large piece of batten  land is acquired,then swadhyayees from fifteen to twenty neighbouring villages and wells for its irrrigation,and then plant saplings.mantras are chanted as if pram  pratishtha of those plants is dine.bhavgeets are sung.and slogans like hamari shakti,krishna ki bhakti and chhod ma ranchhod are uttered while the baltarus  are put in the beds.once a vrukshmandir is set up like this ,swadhyayees from  neighbouring villages and towns take turn to attend these sapling in a spirit  of devotion as pujari.they chant narayan upnishad while watering these plants.The large plots of totally desolate and barren land are now rurning into beautiful lush green orchard the survival rate of plants is nearly one hundred per cent the first  vrukshmandir was raised in july 1979.today only gujarat has almost 19 vrukshmandir. indian privadarshini vrikshamitra puraskar was awarded to pandurang shastri athvale in 1987 for turninf barren land orchards.

        Madhvvrund is an extension of vrukshmandir .those who cannot reach vrukshmandir plant  saplings at their own place on every 12th of july.they whter and nurture the plants in madhavvrund for least 100 days chanting narayan upnishad.According to athvaleji when we go as pujaris,we are not social workers.ti is our bhakti because it is reverence for man reverence for nuture and reverence for every creation. this is a permanent solution for all our problems related to environment.

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Sunday, July 11, 2021

GCERT Textbooks 2021 pdf Download std 1 to 12 http://gujarat-education.gov.in/textbook

 GCERT Textbooks 2021 pdf Download std 1 to 12 http://gujarat-education.gov.in/textbook GCERT Textbooks 2021 pdf Download std 1 to 12||http://gujarat-education.gov.in/textbook THE THEME of this novel is taken from the Scriptures, but Sheriff Robertson's story arose from a modern song, “Pacing the Cage,” written several years ago by the Canadian musician Bruce Cockburn. I particularly like the version sung by Jimmy Buffett on his 1999 CD,

Beach House on the Moon

. As I wrote the novel, and as the sheriff's story unfolded for me, I found myself listening to this song often. I greatly admire both the writer and the singer. Cockburn wrote (and Buffett sang) about the inside of the cage. I have written about the outside.



I am especially and continually grateful to my wife, Madonna, for reading my novels with a critical eye, and for her insights on this one in particular. I also thank my two older grandsons, Noah McKee and Grant McKee, for their enjoyable and enthusiastic discussions with me on the content and direction of the story's ending chapters. They are very insightful young men.


Next, I wish to thank the editors at Plume, and especially Denise Roy, senior editor, who has believed steadfastly in this series and whose support has been of great encouragement to me personally and of great benefit to me as a writer. I am also most grateful for the fine work of Mary Pomponio, publicity manager at Plume. Many thanks are due also to my agent, Jenny Bent, for her critical and useful comments on the manuscript.



I finally thank Steve and Dawn Tilson and Kate Clements for an engaging evening of literary discussions, which helped me to discover the title for this novel.


Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.


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Tuesday, July 6, 2021

Gyansetu usefull patrako

Gyansetu usefull patrako Truly golden curls framed Ella’s face and hung below her narrow waist, shining against her dark bedrobe. She emerged cautiously into the corridor that ran from the large front room of the house to the back door. On either side of the corridor three doors broke the wall. Ella looked both ways; her eyes were blue as a clear sky—and just as empty; her nose was short and slightly tip-tilted, her full lips truly the red of ripe wild strawberries. She was still uneasy because things that did not worry Magdalene at all frightened her, and she peered for reassurance at a slightly older woman standing in the doorway across from hers.


Letice, as dark as Ella was fair, with hair hanging to her knees, black and straight as a sheet of silk, nodded at her sister whore and showed her two empty hands. Ella smiled and accepted that as assurance that there was nothing to fear, since Letice, being mute, could not speak any comfort. However, Ella knew that if Letice felt the shouting man to be a threat, she would have been holding a long, wickedly sharp, curved knife concealed along the side of her bedrobe.


Relieved of fear, Ella came into the common room with small bouncing steps. Her perfect lips pouted. There was a tiny frown between her fair brows. “But he might blame me,” she said to Magdalene. “In a way, it is my fault. I could take more clients, I am sure I could….”


“Not and give them all the time they want, love.”


“Well, I would not tell anyone to go. You are always scolding me for urging my friends to stay longer than they wish. This way, I would not do so.”


Magdalene restrained a sigh. Ella was sweet, good, and insatiable for coupling, but she had the mind of a five-year-old. She was not offering to take more clients, as another whore might, because she was greedy for more money. She was paid the same, no matter who or how many slept with her. She was offering out of her excessive eagerness to please everyone and her equally excessive urge for sex.



“Well, that is true, but what if one of your ‘friends,’ did not wish to leave you and another was already waiting and growing more and more impatient. You would not want to wound the one by thrusting him out, or to wound the other by seeming indifferent to his desire. No, loveling, it is better that each man knows his proper time and that there is as much time as he desires. Besides—” Magdalene grinned broadly “—you would not want Sir Bellamy to believe I was all his and demand that I leave the Old Priory Guesthouse.”

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Saturday, July 3, 2021

July 2021 Month Standard 3 to 8 Ekam kasoti Paripatra

July 2021 Month Standard 3 to 8 Ekam kasoti Paripatra Ian Taggart heard the doctor speaking, but all he could do was stare at the sight in front of him. She’d been alive when he’d left this morning, and now he was standing in the morgue of a London hospital looking at her body laid out on a metal table, covered by the thinnest of sheets. He wanted to smash the glass between them. How was it possible?

Charlotte couldn’t be dead. Not his Charlie. She couldn’t be in that cold exam room while he was standing in the hall staring at her body.

“Mr. Taggart?” The man’s voice grew more agitated, his accent losing its clipped sounds and betraying the fact that the medical examiner was likely from somewhere in the country. “The authorities will need to have a word with you.”

He fucking bet they did. They would want more than a word. They would want to arrest him. They would want to set him in a cell and leave him with absolutely no defenses and then someone would very quietly and calmly end him because this was a setup and he knew it. This was about making sure he was vulnerable.

Someone knew about the Irish mission. It was set to take place in a few hours. He was supposed to be on his way to Dublin to meet with the G2 team he had in place, some kid named Liam and his brother, Rory.

Charlotte couldn’t be dead. He’d made love to her hours before, driving into her body again and again while she clung to him. She was the strongest woman he’d ever met, and he’d managed to tame her. He’d managed to get a ring on her finger and a collar around her neck. He’d known the minute he’d laid eyes on her that she would belong to him.

Mine.

His whole fucking being still called out to her. Mine.

“Are you listening, Mr. Taggart?” Ian could hear the voice, but it seemed far away, like someone was talking to him from a great distance.

His vision had narrowed to one thing, blocking out everything else.

God, Sean didn’t even know he’d gotten married. He hadn’t told his brother about the wedding and now his wife was dead. His life was in shambles and he couldn’t even reach out to his brother. Sean was somewhere in Afghanistan. Sean thought Ian was with a team in Iraq. Sean had no idea he worked for the CIA. None of them did. Alex might suspect it, but he would never ask.

Would they even tell his brother that he died in prison or would the US government cover it all up? Would he even die or would he be renditioned somewhere by god only knew who?

Why was he fucking thinking this way? He needed to move. He needed to get the fuck out of here. He needed…

He needed to be with her.

One of the technicians moved in and started to close the drawer that held Charlotte’s body. They would autopsy her later in an attempt to prove that Ian Taggart killed his wife. Ian had no doubt that they would come up with all types of evidence against him.

“Don’t you fucking close that!” He slammed his fist against the glass but it didn’t shatter like he wanted it to. It held firm. The tech guy looked like he was about to pee himself though.

And Charlotte was still dead.

“She doesn’t like closed spaces.” She was terrified of really tight places. Something about her childhood. Her father had been a controlling asshole who had tortured his daughters, and one of the ways he’d abused them was by locking them in small spaces. Charlotte hated even being in elevators.

Until he’d wrapped his arms around her and let her hide her eyes against his chest. At first he’d wondered if it had all been a game, a way to seduce him. She seemed to figure him out so easily, but there had been genuine fear in her eyes and her pulse had sped up.

It’s different with you, Master. I’m safe with you. Tell me I’m safe with you, Ian.

Charlotte was dead. He’d brought her into his life and now she was dead. She hadn’t been safe with him at all.

“Mr. Taggart, the police are here. You have to go with them now.”

The police had escorted him to the hospital, a couple of bobbies who had treated him with some respect, but he had no doubt he would get a visit from the detectives of New Scotland Yard. They wouldn’t be so careful with him. Or someone else would show up, the type of men who didn’t have restrictions on the way they treated a suspect. Men like Ian himself.

God, she was still so fucking gorgeous. Her skin was pale, but it was always pale. It didn’t make sense. She had to get up. She had to walk out of here with him.

He loved her.

If he went with the police, he might be able to be with her again. Maybe all that shit about heaven was right and he would be able to see Charlie. Maybe he could leave everything behind—all the lies and manipulation.

He’d been a different man with Charlotte, a softer man, a man who might have had a future.

God, he’d even thought about children in a vague, undefined way. Just a little fleeting vision of how sweet his Charlie would look with a baby in her arms.

Something touched his right shoulder and he reacted without thought, his elbow coming up and back. He felt the impact, heard the cracking sound of cartilage giving way, and then a flurry of curse words as the nightsticks made their first appearance.

He put his hands in the air, giving up this particular fight. He sure as fuck wasn’t going to get taken down in a goddamn morgue.

Oh, god, he was leaving his wife in a morgue.

He forced the pain down. Someone had killed Charlotte, and it likely had something to do with the operation he was working. He was tracking a Russian national who was attempting to buy nuclear material. Charlotte had ties to the Russian mafia. She hadn’t tried to hide it. She’d shown up at the club he was playing at while he worked in Paris, and he’d thought she would be a pleasant way to spend a couple of weeks and gather intelligence. It was only supposed to be some short-term sex, but somehow it had become more. Then he’d brought her to London with him and she’d been his lover, his wife, his submissive.

Now she was his mistake and someone was going to pay.

He got to the ground because there was nothing else for him to do but comply for the moment. The hall was too crowded for him to move. Once they got him in cuffs, he would only have his legs to work with, but he’d been in worse situations before. He couldn’t let them put him in a cell. The minute he was in a cell, he was a sitting duck.

A million scenarios ran through his head, but at the end of the day, he was alone. This was his operation, and he’d fucked it up.

Cold metal circled his wrists, and he let his body go limp. The cops struggled to get his six-and-a-half-foot frame upright, but he wasn’t going to help. No fucking way. A tired cop was a cop he could get away from. He would let the fuckers drag him the whole way.

A man in a suit and tie walked in. He was different from the cops, but there was no mistaking his authority. He had a partner with him, a slightly smaller male, still tall but leaner. They pulled badges out, showing off their credentials.

Ah, Scotland Yard had finally made their appearance. These men looked like they could handle themselves. These weren’t paunchy, over-the-hill detectives just trying to make their way to retirement. No. These were predators.

Maybe they were really Scotland Yard and maybe they weren’t. He was about to find out one way or the other.

The Agency would disavow any knowledge of him. He was utterly on his own. His brother had no idea where he was. His best friend was in Washington working at the FBI.

Ian Taggart would disappear into the system and another operative would take his place.

After a few moments of arguing, the larger of the two men stepped forward, having won the right to the prize at hand—him.

“Come with me,” the big man said with an elegant British accent. Ian bet he wouldn’t lose his perfectly upper-crust sounds when he was angry. He had an aristocratic look about him.

He had to run. He had to find a way to get to his contacts.

Ian looked back at the window as they began to haul him along, but the little fucker technician had shut the drawer, sealing Charlotte away from him.

He was in a daze. His eyes didn’t seem to want to function. His stomach was in knots. He didn’t want to leave her. How could he fucking leave her?

He struggled, reason fleeing. He needed to hold her again. He needed to be sure. Things in his world could be false, manipulative.

“Just a little more, mate.” The man he was walking beside never looked anywhere but toward the elevator. “And don’t bloody well try anything. I’ve had a rather rough night and would like to get home in one piece. I believe my handler would prefer to be the one to take me apart.”

His partner stepped up beside him, a smile on his face as he winked at one of the nurses. “Oh, aren’t you a pretty little bird. Are you sure we don’t have a minute, Damon? I won’t take long, and the Yank there looks like he could use a rest.”

One thing had gone right. One fucking thing. The elevator doors dinged open. “You’re MI6.”



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Friday, July 2, 2021

Home Learning Study STD 8 materials video DD Girnar/Diksha portal video

Home Learning Study STD 8 materials video DD Girnar/Diksha portal video The following day the British press made a big deal of how I was at the Oscars party with Victoria Beckham, and was there still this big feud between us, and did she snub me? Well, the truth is I didn’t even attempt to say hello to her as I was busy talking to Simon Cowell and his then girlfriend Terri who were on my table, along with Richard Desmond. There were lots of other people I could have gone and said hello to, and just because I didn’t, it didn’t mean that we were having a feud. And anyway I wasn’t trying to run around after the big stars. I’m not bothered about mixing with celebrities. I don’t mix with any in England and I didn’t in the States. I don’t use people just to get publicity. I’ve got no problem with Victoria Beckham whatsoever. There, that’s my last word on the subject!

           Pete was completely taken up with recording his album, and while I understood his desire to finish it, especially since he was paying for it himself, I didn’t want to go to the studio every single day. That’s not to say that I wasn’t supportive, and if we had still been together then I would certainly have gone on tour with him. But, to be honest, sitting in the studio hour after hour, hearing him go through the same lines over and over again, was boring! He would even play the tracks in the car. I had heard most of them, including ‘Behind Closed Doors’ and ‘Call the Doctor’, and was upset by the lyrics which all seemed to be so negative, about couples not understanding each other, someone feeling alone even in a relationship, and the relationship breaking up. ‘I hope that’s not what you think about our marriage?’ I said to Pete. ‘Because it’s not very nice hearing it described like this. I feel really hurt, if you must know.’

He replied, ‘Listen to the lyrics, they show how hurt I’ve been at times. But it’s not just about us, it’s about any relationship.’

I wasn’t convinced. And, looking back, I can’t help wondering if he was already planning to leave me.

                 When Pete wasn’t in the studio we were bickering because of the pressure of filming. It was sheerorse and had her flown over to misery. I didn’t even have the escape of riding. I had just bought a h the States, but I really needed Andrew to come over and train her up for me because we weren’t connecting properly. But, of course, I felt I couldn’t ask him because of what Pete’s reaction was likely to be. Instead I flew another trainer over, but she didn’t know me or how I ride and every time she came to the stables the horse was fine. So now I was paying for a horse that I couldn’t ride as well as I wanted.

The only good things were that my mum had done a fantastic job of finding such a brilliant school for Harvey – he was settled in and making great progress – and Princess and Junior were happy.

               And then Claire received a letter from my lawyer setting out the suggested new terms for the management contract between us. They were a lot less favourable than the ones she was used to and we were unable to reach an agreement. It was decided she would officially stop being my manager on 23 June 2009. Whatever was subsequently said in the press, I consider myself the one who ended our business relationship.

                The atmosphere between all of us became even more tense and strained after that. There were arguments between me, Claire and Nicola, with Pete as piggy in the middle between us all. The rows were always about work. How I didn’t want to be filmed all the time; that I wanted to spend more time with Pete; that I wanted to be part of the TV production company. I got even more sick of the filming and just wanted to return to the UK. I could see that this situation was damaging my marriage. I wanted Pete to be my husband, not to work with him all the time. It was so unhealthy.

As I’ve said before, I can’t put on an act that everything is OK for the camera if I’m unhappy. If I’m in a bad mood, I will still be in a bad mood when we are filming. And later, when I watched our Stateside

series – not that I wanted to as it just reminded me of how miserable I was – I can see that I come across as the bad guy nearly all the time, with Pete as good cop, me as bad. It comes across that Pete is perfect and I was a miserable cow and that he looked after the kids on his days off while I just went to get my hair and nails done. And it wasn’t like that.

               But there were several moments in the show when even Pete didn’t come across so well, one of which was when we were supposed to be going roller-blading. The paps were all outside the store where we were renting the equipment, and it was raining, and I didn’t want to go out and roller-blade with them all taking pictures as if I was some performing fucking dog! When I first started going to LA I thought the paps there were far more polite than the British ones, but all that had changed. By then they were just as ruthless about getting their shots. Or even more so, it seemed. I didn’t want to be photographed every single time I left the house.

        So Pete and I were holed up in the store with the young sales assistant and Nicola. I was just making small talk with the assistant to pass the time when Pete started trying to wind him up, making out he was someone that he was not. I thought he was being pathetic. The guy was just doing his job; Pete didn’t have to be like that.

Straight away things turned nasty when Pete said, really sarcastically, ‘He doesn’t know who you are.’

           Like I fucking care if some sales assistant in the States knows who I am or not! I’m not so insecure in myself that I need to be recognised constantly. Funnily enough, though, I met that same guy again on the red carpet at the 2010 Oscars – and joked to him that I’d since got remarried!

            I told Pete to stop being such a knob; said that he was ‘an old fucking singer no one knows about’. Of course, the row kicked off big time after that.

‘You’re a miserable cow and living with you is miserable,’ he retorted.

I just shrugged; I had heard him speak to me like this so many times, I was hardened to it. ‘I’m the one who makes the money, so I’ll have things my way,’ I replied. That may have sounded harsh but I was sick of him sniping at me, and sick of the situation we were in.

‘You’re a psycho. I hope you’re proud of yourself,’ he exclaimed. ‘You’re a fucking idiot . . . a fucking arrogant bitch!’\

          We had always rowed and bickered in the past, but never as bitterly as this. I think things got so bad between us in LA that there was no coming back from it. We seemed to have lost all respect for each other and both said some truly terrible things. Then, as we were about to fly back, I was burning some rubbish in one of the fireplaces in the house and asked Pete if there was anything he wanted to put on the fire. ‘Yes, you,’ he replied. It was a joke but it wasn’t funny. Later, on film, he said that he loved me, but I couldn’t answer him. At that moment it really didn’t feel like he did.

We never, ever should have gone out to America to film the show.

             But we didn’t just have ourselves to think about any more because in March I found out I was pregnant. Even though our relationship was under such strain, I was thrilled and so was Pete. It wasn’t that I hoped this baby would heal the problems in our marriage because I don’t think you should ever have a child for that reason. I had just always wanted more children. Of course, I had no idea that in just over a month Pete would have walked out on me. I still thought we were going through a rough patch but would get through it. By now we’d been through so many rough patches but also so many good times that I thought that’s just what marriage was like. In spite of our problems, I still felt that we were so close. It never crossed my mind that we could split up.

                  As soon as we were back in the UK I went to see Dr Gibb, my obstetrician in London, to check that everything was OK with the baby by having a scan. I was probably around ten weeks by then and certainly had all the symptoms of pregnancy. I felt nauseous and bloated, with sore boobs. I always feel anxious about having scans because of the time I was nearly four months pregnant in 2006 and the doctor discovered during a scan that my baby had died. I was devastated and found it really hard to get over that miscarriage. That was what made going on to have Princess, the following year, all the more wonderful.

          Pete came to the clinic with me. I lay back on the couch and waited while Dr Gibb rubbed the cold gel on my belly and then pressed the scanner against it. ‘Please let my baby be all right,’ I thought apprehensively, as Dr Gibb moved the scanner around, trying to locate the baby. I anxiously looked at the screen and then I saw the tiny outline. Surely that meant everything must be OK? But Dr Gibb was very concerned; he explained that he couldn’t detect a heartbeat and said that I would have to come back for another scan in a few days. He also did a blood test. This didn’t seem like good news and I had a horrible numb feeling inside as I prepared myself for the worst. I felt so upset.

              But a few days later Dr Gibb called to say that the levels of HCG, a hormone created during the early stages of pregnancy, in my blood were still high, which indicated that the baby might be alive after all. I clung to this hope. But when I went in for another scan he said the words that I had been dreading: ‘I’m so sorry, Katie, I can’t find a heartbeat. I’m afraid the baby’s died.’

                Anyone who has ever had a miscarriage will know what a devastating feeling it is. You go from believing you are pregnant, carrying a new life, and being excited, to feeling an unbearable sense of loss where you feel numb and empty. I couldn’t believe that this was happening to me again. I had the option of taking some tablets which would trigger a miscarriage over several days or else having an operation. I chose to have the operation. I needed the ordeal to be over with as soon as possible. Pete was upset when he came up to the clinic to be with me before the op. He wanted to know what was wrong with the baby and why it had died. He didn’t seem to understand that we didn’t know. How could anyone know?

            I had the operation and was discharged that night. Physically I felt drained and sore, and emotionally I felt incredibly vulnerable. I just wanted to curl up in bed and mourn my lost baby. But I couldn’t. I was taking part in the London Marathon at the weekend – just five days away. After the operation I was still bleeding and the very last thing I felt like doing was running a Marathon, which is probably one of the most physically demanding things you can put your body through. But I felt I couldn’t let down the people who had sponsored me. I was doing this for Harvey and for the Vision Charity, which raises money for the benefit of blind, visually impaired and dyslexic children. I was also a patron of the charity, so it was really important to me personally. I would have done the Marathon had I still been pregnant because I had been training for it and by then my body was used to the demands of training. Lots of people do carry on running when they are pregnant, though of course if my doctor had advised me not to run it I wouldn’t have.

        The day after I’d had the operation I had to go to the press call for the Marathon. I felt really low emotionally and physically very uncomfortable. I was sore and bleeding and still having stomach cramps.

              I felt very low and weepy for the rest of that week, not myself at all. But as I was shooting the photographs for my style book, I had to put on a brave face and carry on. Pete was really upset by the miscarriage as well, but I do think it’s different for men. They’re not the ones who have been carrying the baby and they will never know what it feels like when that baby dies. But I didn’t feel as if Pete was being particularly sympathetic towards me, given that I had just had a miscarriage. I suppose it’s easier for men to deal with as they are not coping with the physical and emotional after-effects.

               By the time Sunday, 26 April arrived, I still felt low; all I could think was, ‘Please let me get through this somehow,’ which was such a shame as I had been looking forward to taking part and raising money for the charity. But Pete and I were still pleased to be taking part as we had done so much training together over the months. I was still bleeding from the op and worried about blood clots, but told myself that if I felt unwell or if I started bleeding more heavily I would pull out of the race. I knew it wasn’t advisable to run the Marathon in that condition but I’m such a trouper and I really didn’t want to let my sponsors or the charity down. And on top of feeling so emotional and physically quite weak, I had also damaged my knee in training which was going to make running even harder. But I did my best and put on an act that everything was OK.

            The day itself was clear and sunny – perfect conditions for running. The atmosphere around the Marathon is incredible. There are so many people running to support different charities – many of them people who have lost loved ones to cancer and other diseases, and want to raise funds in their memory – so many spectators cheering the runners on. I was wearing a bright orange t-shirt with the Vision logo on it and also a picture of Harvey, and kept telling myself to focus on why I was running the race, though it wasn’t easy. But we did get the most fantastic support from the crowd as we ran past and I really appreciated that.

                  I was running with Pete, my brother and sister, and Nick, the husband of my then friend Michelle, and they had promised to go at my speed. My sister ran ahead, but I don’t blame her as she had trained hard and wanted to prove she could run the race in a good time. I couldn’t run very fast. I kept imagining I was bleeding more heavily and felt really scared. I had to keep going to the loo to check, but thankfully it was OK. But Pete, my brother and Nick were a fantastic support. They stayed by my side for the whole race, even though there’s no question that they could all have achieved very respectable times if not – especially my brother who has run several Marathons

             At eighteen miles my knee buckled under me and I had to get it bandaged up. The pain was excruciating. It was only sheer determination and will-power that helped me carry on. I managed to stagger – and stagger is the word – but at twenty-three miles, with the end so close, it gave way again. I was in tears of agony as I literally hobbled over the finishing line. It had taken me over seven hours but I had done it. I hadn’t let my sponsors down and that was all that mattered to me. And as I suffered no ill effects from running the Marathon after having the miscarriage, I still feel I was right to do it.

                 We grabbed a McDonald’s and then headed for home as we were all exhausted. As we were nearing the house I suddenly noticed a horse loose on the road. ‘Oh my God!’ I exclaimed. ‘Stop the car, I have to try and rescue it! It will get hit by a car if we don’t do something.’ Instantly my dad stopped the car and got out, and somehow I managed to summon the energy to drag myself out as well.

I could barely walk as my knee was killing me but somehow I managed to limp after the horse and catch it. I’m certain we saved it from being hit by a car.

                     A few days later Pete, the kids and I flew to Cyprus for a mini-break. Life had been so manic and emotional during the past weeks that we felt we needed some time on our own as a family. And for once we weren’t being filmed. One day Pete and I went to the gym – I wanted to keep my fitness up. When we came out there were two girls standing there. Pete got talking to them while I walked over to the car. I could instantly sense that one of the girls must be an ex-girlfriend, just from Pete’s body language and because I knew him so well. He didn’t introduce me to them and I was furious. When he got in the car I said, ‘How fucking dare you not introduce me, and stand there chatting in front of me? That is so disrespectful.’ I could just imagine how he would have reacted if I’d done the same thing to him with one of my exes. I felt jealous and angry.

                There was a bad atmosphere between us for the rest of the day. Then we went out to dinner and finally had a heart to heart about our relationship and where we thought it was going wrong. The bottom line was that, in spite of everything, we both really loved each other and wanted to make our marriage work. Pete said that he still had a problem with me going out on my own. It was all the usual things about him worrying that I would get drunk and end up flirting with another man or even being unfaithful. And the fact was that back then, because of the strain our marriage was under, I was jealous whenever Pete went out on

                  own. Because we spent so much time together working and so rarely went out on our own, when one of us wanted to, it made the other one feel insecure. So, for instance, if Pete wanted to go the cinema with his friends and not me, I would wonder why he didn’t want to take me and would feel hurt. Looking back, I know that it is not healthy for a relationship to be with each other so much, but that’s how it was for Pete and me.

                 He suggested that we should both agree that from then on we wouldn’t go out on our own but only as a couple. My heart sank. What was wrong with me wanting to go out on my own? I was only having a laugh, going clubbing with my girlfriends, like so many other women did every single week without it being a huge issue for their husbands. This was supposed to be a marriage, not a prison sentence. But because I wanted my marriage to work, I agreed. I wasn’t happy but I didn’t want to be without Pete. The moment the words were out of my mouth, I regretted them. It wasn’t a promise that deep down I believed I could keep or even wanted to keep because I still thought he was wrong to have a problem with me going out. But I did agree. I wanted things to be happy and calm between us, wanted us to get along. I hated it when we didn’t. I tried to push it to the back of my mind. Little did I realise that this was the last family holiday we would ever have, but for some reason I packed up a lot of my things from the Cyprus house and brought them home with me.

                  Back in the UK I had a signing for KP Equestrian at the Badminton Horse Show on Friday, 8 May. Pete was going to stay out in Cyprus for a few more days but, because we had made this pact to do more things together, he said that he would come to the horse show with me. I was looking forward to us spending more time together and was pleased that he was going to be there to support me. I wanted him to come with me, as in the past when he’d come, or I had gone along to his club Pas, it had been the perfect opportunity for us to spend some quality time together, and have a night away in a hotel.

               But then, unexpectedly, Pete changed his mind. He said he had things to do and would I mind if he didn’t come? I was very disappointed; this was supposed to be our fresh start, where we made an effort to do things together. However, I didn’t make a big deal of it and I went off to Bristol and did my signing alone. While I was at the show I bumped into Andrew and Polly who were there along with other friends. We all watched some dressage together and I made a joke to Gary and Diana, saying, ‘Oh, you’d better not sit next to me, just in case we’re photographed together!’ Little knowing that later a photograph of me and another rider would trigger Pete to walk out on me.

               After the show we all chatted about our plans for the evening, and we thought it would be good to meet up for dinner later. It was all very relaxed and laid-back, just the kind of dinner you have after you’ve been working all day, as I had been. We all got on so well – there were my business associates and friends Diana and Cath, my best friend Gary, a couple of riders that I knew – Spencer and Jay – and Andrew and Polly.

             Then someone suggested we go on to a club. Instantly, I thought of the pact I had just made with Pete and replied, ‘You go, but I can’t come because of Pete.’ But then I thought, ‘How pathetic does it sound for a woman of nearly thirty-one not to feel able to go out with her friends?’


Home Learning Study STD 7 materials video DD Girnar/Diksha portal video

Home Learning Study STD 7 materials video DD Girnar/Diksha portal video As soon as we flew back from South Africa I had to rehearse intensively for my appearance at the Horse of the Year Show in early October. I only had two weeks to prepare when ideally I would have liked at least two months! But I hadn’t been able to ride for over six weeks after my surgery, plus we’d had the South Africa trip. It was a lot of pressure because I had a dressage piece along with two other riders to learn from scratch. Admittedly I wasn’t competing, as this was only a showcase, but it would still be a test of my riding abilities and I would be judged on it. Of course, I only had myself to blame as it had been my idea in the first place. We were doing a stand for my KP Equestrian range and a signing at the Horse of the Year Show and I had suggested that I perform a dressage showcase. I wanted to prove that I was a serious rider who was passionate about the sport. But now, as time was so tight, I was almost regretting my big mouth!

                     I chose the music for the piece, and included the track ‘Mysterious Girl’ as I wanted Pete to feel included. I even asked him if he wanted to come and sing live while I performed. The event was going to be live on SKY and I thought it would be a good opportunity for both of us to show off what we could do. I knew Pete was dying to perform his music live. OK, it was a song that he had sung many, many times over the years and he wanted to move away from it, but it was still a chance to sing live. And after our time away in South Africa, I thought this would be a great opportunity for us to work together, to show that we supported each other, and to hold on to that closeness that we’d rediscovered. But Pete didn’t want to perform the song.

            I don’t think he realised what a huge event this was in the horse world – it was the biggest show of the year and so it was a big deal that I was going to perform there. To me this was like a dream come true – it’s what every rider dreams of doing. It was one of those moments when you wish you could meet your teenage self and say, ‘Just look what I’m doing now! Can you believe it?’ I had to go to the stables every day, often twice a day, to practise my routine for hours at a time. Sometimes I would have to go in the evening because I was working during the day. I had to rehearse with Andrew and with another rider called Henry Boswell, who were both performing the showcase with me. Our timing had to be spot on – there was no margin for error. But while I was happy to be working on this routine and getting it as near-perfect as I could, back home it was a return to the tense atmosphere. I hated things becoming like this again when we had been getting on so well together.

          I was feeling hurt and worn down by the constant rows, getting sick and tired of living like this. There was no fun or sparkle in my life. If it wasn’t for my riding I don’t know what I would have done. It was my one escape. The only chance I had to be me.

         And the press were yet again saying that we were splitting up. They were full of stories saying that I was being cruel to Pete, mocking his music, putting him down . . . but that was all complete crap. We were still convinced that someone close to us was selling stories to the press, but we didn’t know who. All these things piled on the pressure.

         But I was given a boost when the organisers of the Horse of the Year Show told me that they had sold out of tickets for my showcase. Dressage rarely features in the press so I felt I was helping raise its profile and showing that it didn’t matter what background you came from, you could still be a good rider. All my family and friends supported me whole-heartedly and were proud of me, but I was still getting that negative vibe from Pete.

          I travelled up to Birmingham the night before the show with my very own support entourage of my mum, dad, sister, Gary, Phil, Michelle and Jamela. I’d wanted Pete to come up with us too, but he didn’t. I don’t know why.

          Although he did drive up on his own the following day, I can’t say the atmosphere was any better between us. Then it was time for my big moment: the showcase. Both Andrew and Henry are exceptionally talented and experienced riders, and I will most likely never reach anything like their standard, but I was determined to do my best. I did feel extremely nervous before I went out into the arena on Jordan’s Glamour Girl. It was packed with some eight thousand people – not that I knew that then, I found out later – and there was a great sense of anticipation and excitement coming from the audience. It was the first time I had ever performed a dressage showcase and it was the first time for my horse as well. I had no idea how she would react in front of the crowds. Initially she played up a little and I had to really fight to get her under control. She is sixteen hands three inches which, take it from me, is big, but I managed and I think people respected me for that.

          Our routine was five minutes long, which doesn’t sound much but, believe me, feels like for ever when you’re in front of thousands and are being filmed and going out on live TV. But it went well and I got great feedback from the crowd, who seemed to love it. I knew my performance wasn’t perfect but I was still proud of it. I’d only been learning dressage for six months. To me, performing a showcase at the Horse of the Year Show felt like one of my biggest achievements ever. Though I don’t just want to do showcases, I want to compete too. I know that I am never going to be a top dressage rider – I would have to dedicate my whole life to it, which I can’t do, and I would be fooling myself if I thought I could ever be the best as there are some amazing riders out there who have been doing it most of their lives. So reports that I was going to be in the Olympic team were wildly exaggerated! But I do want to compete, just for myself, to see how much I can improve. And I can’t wait for the day when Junior and Princess compete in horse shows – I will be the proudest mum there!

           After the showcase I had lots of press interviews to do, not just with the tabloids but also the broadsheets, and the following day there was really positive coverage about the event. I had made all the nationals and the organisers were very pleased. So pleased that they asked me to perform in the finale on Sunday. Whether people liked me or not, I felt they should at least be pleased that I was bringing dressage to public attention because usually it is overlooked. I did come in for a bit of stick for wearing a glittery jacket and my full glamour girl make-up, but I wasn’t competing so I felt I could. At least I was wearing dark colours. The organisers should count themselves lucky I didn’t come out wearing pink! After the Horse of the Year I received lots of offers to do other showcases but I don’t want to be seen by people in the horse world as someone who just performs showcases. I want to compete alongside everyone else.

            I had hoped that Pete would be pleased by my success. After my performance and interviews we all went to get something to eat. There was large group of my friends and family, plus Andrew and Polly and Henry and his girlfriend. This should have been a chance for us to celebrate together, but as Pete and I weren’t getting on it put a downer on the occasion. It had been such a big achievement for me, and I’d got such a buzz from it, but as soon as I saw Pete looking so moody, I thought, ‘Fuck, why can’t we just celebrate my success?’ I felt so angry.

            I ended up turning to him and saying, ‘You may as well go if you’re just going to sit here and be negative.’ I didn’t want him to but he was bringing me down and ruining what should have been a fantastic experience. To me, appearing on Horse of the Year had been brilliant. I had loved it and felt on such a high. Why couldn’t Pete get that? Unfortunately he took me at my word and ended up leaving. What the hell was happening to my marriage?

             After he left I had to get on with the signing for my equestrian range. It was actually a relief that Pete wasn’t around any more. I’m afraid more and more of my marriage had become like this. There were still good days but there were many bad days. All too often Pete and I would be having a go at each other. At one point I noticed that my dad and Nicola had left and wondered where they had gone but thought no more about it. The signing went well. As ever it was great meeting my fans. Then I happened to check my phone and discovered a text from Pete that really worried me. He didn’t sound like himself at all.

             Then Mum told me that he had suffered a panic attack on the way home, and that my dad and Nicola had had to pick him up and drive him home as he was in such a bad state he wasn’t able to drive himself. Pete had suffered from panic attacks in the past before I had met him, and when he was recovering from meningitis he had suffered from them again. I’ve suffered from them myself in the past and know how frightening and overwhelming they are. I felt terrible because I had told him to go. I’d had no idea that this was going to happen. I phoned Pete but he couldn’t answer as he was still in such an emotional state. So I texted him to tell him that I was sorry about the attack, that I loved him and I wanted our marriage to work out. That was what I always said to him throughout this time. I just wanted him to realise how much we had going for us – we had a great life together, beautiful children, we lived in a big house, we were so lucky. We had everything we wanted, didn’t we?

            It was during the autumn of 2008 that I noticed a change in Pete, which all my friends and family commented on as well. He seemed to have a new air of confidence about him. By then he knew that he was going to record his album in LA in the New Year and was very focussed on that. He began working out regularly at a gym – we had already signed up to do the London Marathon the following April. He also started getting in contact with his old friends again, including some of the dancers he had worked with in the past, and would invite them over to the house. I was fine about having people over, but it was quite a change for him as he hadn’t asked them over before. Then he started to go out a little more at night, which was very uncharacteristic of him. He even went clubbing once or twice and he’d always claimed he hated clubbing. It felt to me as if he was saying, ‘It’s my turn to be in the spotlight now, Kate, so step back.’ And while I wanted him to do well with his music, I couldn’t help feeling that he wasn’t being very nice about it. He just wasn’t being the Pete I knew – the one who was such a lovely, open and easy-going guy.

             I was starting to feel by then that we had lost some of the spark between us. And it was so sad. I couldn’t help feeling that we were growing apart and I hated it. I felt that we no longer had the closeness we’d always shared. I would know that when I came home after work and walked in the door, Pete wouldn’t look pleased to see me and my heart would sink. You want to come back to a happy home, don’t you? Not a miserable one.

           But however bad things got between us, I never considered walking out on him – I really did want us to try and make it work. I would only have considered ending our marriage if he was unfaithful or if he walked out on me.

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Home Learning Study STD 6 materials video DD Girnar/Diksha portal video

Home Learning Study STD 6 materials video DD Girnar/Diksha portal video Back in 2008 I felt as if all I ever did was work and then come home and there was never any down time, never any way I could switch off. I’d started up my KP Equestrian range and that was going well so I decided that I wanted to ride more and challenge myself by learning dressage. It seemed the obvious choice. I have always loved riding. Horses are my escape and my passion. I’d been riding since I was seven so it wasn’t as if it was this new thing that just came out of the blue. I already owned several horses, two of which were on loan to friends, but I was hardly riding at all, apart from the odd hack. And I did want to push myself. I wanted a fresh challenge. Learning jumping didn’t appeal to me as I thought it looked too dangerous, but I liked the look of dressage. It’s a highly specialised sport where the rider has to make the horse perform a number of precision moves by using their hands, legs, and the position of their body. It is occasionally called horse ballet. It looks beautiful and elegant but it is really hard!

         Once I’ve decided what I want to do, I don’t hang about. So next I had to get a dressage horse. The horses I already had were not trained in dressage. So I flicked through

Horse and Hound

       and saw what looked like the ideal one for me advertised. Not only did it sound impressive but it also happened to be black and that is my all-time favourite colour in a horse. The only problem was that it was in Glasgow and my hectic schedule meant that I didn’t have time to fly up and see it. So I called the owner and said, ‘You’re going to think I’m mad but I want your horse and I can’t come and see it, so can I send a vet round to give him his five-stage vetting? [That’s like a horse MOT.] And then I can decide whether to buy it or not.’ The horse passed its inspection and I called the owner again and asked if she would drive it down to me. I transferred the money into her account and was now the proud owner of a horse I’d never seen. Yes, I admit that was impulsive. It was a fifteen-grand impulse buy! People think you need to spend a lot more than that on a dressage horse, but I think that’s crap, because this one, who I called Jordan’s Glamour Girl, went on to teach me a lot.

          So the horse arrived, and as soon as I got on her she began rearing. This was not a promising start. The owner said that she didn’t usually do that. Typical, I thought. I’ve gone and bought a dud horse. Why didn’t I see her before I spent the money? But then the owner got on and I saw that the problem was with me, not the horse, because she had her trotting and cantering round the ring and the horse looked stunning. So I tried again but I couldn’t even get her to walk, let alone trot! And when I gave her the signal to walk on she began doing all this fancy footwork. Because the horse was so finely tuned to dressage instructions, I couldn’t ride her as I would usually; I had to learn the dressage moves first.

         But instead of learning dressage then, I was so busy with work that I ended up loaning Jordan’s Glamour Girl to one of my best friends, as she then was, Michelle Baker, another keen rider. And I paid for the horse’s upkeep. I knew Michelle from my glamour modelling days when she was still Michelle Clack. I couldn’t keep Jordan’s Glamour Girl at my house as my stables weren’t yet ready and such a highly trained horse needed to be exercised regularly otherwise her fitness would suffer.

            Several months later I realised I was back to square one with my riding ambitions. I was the owner of yet another horse and yet again someone else was riding it! I really would have to find a dressage instructor. Dressage is not something you can teach yourself. So while we were busy promoting

Pushed to the Limit

, I asked Diana to help find me one in my area.

         Diana did her research and found Andrew Gould. He is one of the leading dressage riders in the country as well as being a dressage instructor and trainer. He also happens to be young and good-looking, and when Diana showed me the information on him and I saw pictures of him, we both said, ‘Oh, Pete’s not going to like this.’ At that time Pete seemed quite down. He had put on weight and wasn’t working out. I think it was also tied up with how frustrated he felt about not having an album deal and that while I was busy working on so many different projects; all he really had was the reality show. It didn’t matter to me that he had put on weight. I loved him however he looked, and always thought he looked good. The fact remains, I didn’t choose Andrew as my instructor because of his looks – I couldn’t have cared less what he looked like. He could have looked like Shrek for all the difference it made to me. I just wanted to learn dressage!

        Diana had given me the telephone number of his stables and I called up and spoke to Andrew’s wife Polly about the possibility of learning dressage with Andrew and keeping my horse at their stables. As we chatted we got on really well. I thought, ‘Excellent. Maybe we could be friends with this couple. It would be so good to know another young couple with children, especially one that shares my love of riding.’

       When I first went to Priory Dressage – Polly and Andrew’s training livery stables – it was a Saturday sometime in March 2008 and the place was buzzing with riders and horses. I watched at the outdoor school and was blown away by seeing all the absolutely stunning horses and fantastic riders. I thought, ‘I would love to be able to ride like that. But, bloody hell, there’s no way I’m riding in public yet because I can’t even get my horse to trot!’ Andrew and Polly seemed like such a nice couple, both down-to-earth, both really friendly. I moved Jordan’s Glamour Girl to their stables so that Andrew could train her up and I started having lessons.

         At first I was nervous. I am a very good rider but dressage is such a specialised sport that getting on a finely trained dressage horse made me feel like a novice. But it didn’t take long for me pick it up. Very soon I was connecting with my horse and learning how to get her to make the dressage moves. I got a real buzz from learning and started having lessons every day first thing in the morning, before any of my work commitments.

         I decided I wanted to enter some dressage shows and compete. I always need a goal to work towards. Taking up dressage gave me such a good feeling, and I loved being around the horses and the stables. People who love riding will totally understand where I’m coming from – though I guess it’s like any hobby which you enjoy. For me, going to the stables was about switching off; it was somewhere I wasn’t going to be filmed or photographed. It was my escape and riding made me feel so happy. At last I was starting to feel that I did have some space away from work.

          At first Pete seemed fine about me riding so much. After all, he was spending practically every day in the studio working on his music – something which I fully supported, as I knew how important his music was to him and how much he longed to bring out another album. And he knew how much I had always loved horses and riding. When he first met me, for instance, I’d just bought a house in a small village in the Sussex countryside and had stables built there for my horses. When we later moved to Ockley, in Surrey, the main reason I bought that house was because it had stables, school and a field for my horses. But then Pete met Andrew and everything changed. He had met Polly and Andrew briefly when they both came round to the house once before we went off to a horse show, and even in that brief meeting, which was filmed for our reality series, I got a bad vibe from Pete, but thought maybe I was imagining it.

         I admit we were both jealous in our marriage. When we first got together we were so into each other, we were in each other’s pocket 24/7 and that was how we both wanted it to be. And so a few years down the line when our relationship had grown more comfortable, as all relationships do after a time, when one of us wanted to do something different, without the other person involved, it would feel odd. The fact is that riding was something I had always done, it wasn’t something new. But jealousy is a poison, a cancer, and once it starts growing out of control, it can destroy everything . . .

             I had been learning dressage for nearly three months and to give myself a challenge, had entered a competition at Hickstead on 11 June. It was my first one and it felt like a big deal for me, especially given that I could hardly ride Jordan’s Glamour Girl when I first got her and now we were working so well together. It was made more nerve-racking for me because it was being filmed for our reality show and the paps turned up in force to photograph me as well, so I felt under added pressure. As I got ready to go on I anxiously scanned the stand, looking for Pete. My mum, brother, sister and a couple of my friends had come to support me and Pete had promised to come along as well, but there was no sign of him. I felt disappointed that he wasn’t there. It might have been only a small competition, but it was my first and so was particularly important to me. In the end he turned up after I’d finished competing because he’d got lost on the way. I couldn’t help thinking that everyone else who was close to me had managed to arrive on time.

         I came sixth out of a class of twenty-three in the competition, which I didn’t feel was at all bad given that I was so new to the sport. Afterwards the show director of Dressage at Hickstead, Dane Rawlins, told

Horse and Hound

that he was impressed by my performance, commenting: ‘She did a bloody good job. She didn’t hype it. She got a good round of applause. She just wanted to do it properly. Everyone was quietly impressed. She was very pleasant and friendly to everyone and has set her sights firmly on improving. She got the lines right and got to grips with it well. She’s good news for the sport, as everyone likes a touch of glamour.’ I was thrilled to receive such positive feedback. As Dane Rawlins had trained riders to Olympic level, he would know a good rider when he saw one.

            Now I was riding again I didn’t feel I needed to go out clubbing for a release. When I was with the horses, I loved it so much that it took my mind off everything else and gave me the freedom I craved. But the thing about riding is that it is all-consuming – being around horses, riding itself, being with other riders who understand your passion for horses, being out in the fresh air all day – it takes up a lot of time. I could go off riding feeling stressed or down, but by the time I’d ridden for a few hours all that stress and tension would have vanished. I would feel fantastic, exhilarated. Anyone out there who is interested in horses will know that you can happily spend all day at stables just because you love being with horses and everything that goes with them. Whenever my fame comes to an end, as it is bound to one day, my dream is to have a house where I can have stables and fields and then I will spend all day outside with the horses, along with my kids. That would be my idea of heaven.

         Just as there are football widows there’s the phenomenon of horse widowers – men who find that their wives and partners get so involved with their passion for riding that they spend hours away from home, getting up early when usually nothing except work will get them out of bed, and riding all weekend. I so wanted Pete to understand my passion for riding and to share it, but I’m afraid we were getting on so badly that this wasn’t the case.

I would say, ‘Why don’t you come along and watch me ride?’ I was desperate to involve him.

              I felt I could not win. Whatever I said was wrong. We had always had a passionate relationship where we bickered and argued with each other as you can see on our reality shows. That’s just the way we were. But our arguments were getting worse, more destructive, and really threatening our marriage.

            Meanwhile riding was playing an important part in my life. I was making such good progress with Jordan’s Glamour Girl that I decided I wanted a better horse. She was great but she was never going to make it to Grand Prix (the highest) level in dressage because she had a problem with her suspensory ligaments. Pete had bought me a horse for my thirtieth birthday, a gorgeous chestnut called Dan. He was really young so would be ideal for training. I kept him at Andrew’s stables, but after only a few weeks one of his riders had a fall from Dan after he bolted and Andrew said he didn’t think the horse would be suitable for me. He suggested I sent him to a stables in Holland to be trained and later sold. That left me itching to get another horse.

            There was a big horse sale coming up in July in Holland and I decided to go there with Andrew and Polly and their other clients to see if I could buy one. I was also taking Diana, Michelle Clack, my mum, dad, my sister, Gary, Phil and Jamela. I asked Pete to come as well but he had plans to go to Cyprus. The trip was hardly a big secret; it had been in my schedule for ages. However, Pete and I were getting on so badly by then it was really starting to get to me. All I wanted was to pursue my hobby and buy some decent horses. I was getting such a good buzz from riding. Pete had his studio at home; that was his thing. I wanted something for myself. Over in Holland I bought a horse and even named him Andre.

          I thought about buying Pete a horse too and asked him if he would have riding lessons so that he could share my passion. I wanted the whole family to ride; Harvey has riding lessons at his school and loves it, Junior has riding lessons and loves it too, especially since I’ve bought him a pony of his own, and I want Princess to get into riding as well. Then we can all go out on hacks together and I can take them to shows. I had this dream of us all going off to shows in my huge pink horse box and staying in it, imagining some really fun family times. But that never happened when I was with Pete.

         I kept trying to get Pete to see what a great couple Polly and Andrew were, and how our two families could be friends. But he just wasn’t having it, and if ever he did see them I would sense a bad atmosphere and probably act differently because I was so tense. Polly and Andrew are an outgoing couple who have always socialised with their clients. Whenever they asked Pete and me over or out anywhere, I always felt I had to make excuses. Pretty soon they cottoned on that Pete seemed to have had a problem with them and commented, ‘Pete doesn’t like us, does he?’



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