Artículos de revistas sobre el tema "Vale of (Wales)"

INTRODUCTION The aim of this study was to determine whether one specialist unit could manage all patients diagnosed with oesophagogastric cancer in Gwent and Cardiff and Vale NHS Trusts over a 6-month period with regard to workload, resource and training opportunities. PATIENTS AND METHODS All patients diagnosed with oesophagogastric (OG) cancer in Gwent and Cardiff and Vale NHS Trusts and referred to the regional South East Wales Upper GI multidisciplinary team over the 6-month period from 1 July to 31 December 2005 were studied prospectively and compared with the previous 6-month caseload at Cardiff and Vale. RESULTS Out-patient workload increased from 160 new (33 OG cancers) and 533 follow-up patients (161 OG cancers) between 1 January and 30 June 2005, to 290 new (68 OG cancers, 106% increase) and 865 follow-up patients (230 OG cancers, 43% increase) between 1 July, and 31 December 2005. The number of patients undergoing radical surgery increased from 14 to 23 (D2 gastrectomy 8 versus 13; oesophagectomy 6 versus 10). Cancer-related workload in the latter period generated 118 intermediate equivalents (IEs) of operative work for two specialist surgeons and one SpR occupying 38% of the total time available on 104 scheduled operating lists, compared with 64 IEs in the previous 6 months, representing an 84% increase in cancer-related operative training opportunities. CONCLUSIONS Centralisation of oesophagogastric cancer surgery is feasible and desirable if national guidelines are to be satisfied, and this strategy has significant positive implications for surgical training and audit.

Since 1992, the Vale of Glamorgan Festival (founded in 1969 by composer John Metcalf) has focused exclusively on living composers, aiming to reach a wider audience than that traditionally associated with new music. In Metcalf's words: ‘We're not here for … the new music profession; of course, composers, ensembles and publishers are an important part of our audience, but … new music needs to go beyond that now’. However, Vale programmes do not lack challenge or stylistic diversity; alongside more recognized figures, the Festival showcases hitherto little-known composers and explores a variety of music from smaller countries and/or younger traditions. Premières are a key feature of the programming. This year, the Festival was extended to run from 9–18 May, adding a second concert to the customary single contribution from the BBC National Orchestra of Wales. Across a range of platforms, there were 19 premières of music by 10 composers. The following offers some of the highlights.

Over the last 20 years interpretive approaches within Iron Age studies in Britain have moved from the national to the regional. This was an important development which challenged the notion that a unified, British, Iron Age ever existed. However, whilst this approach has allowed regional histories to be told in their own right, there has been far too much focus on ‘key’ areas such as Wessex and Yorkshire. Our knowledge of the ‘gaps’ in-between these regions is uneven across the country and seriously distorts our understanding of the period. This situation is particularly acute in Wales where there is a paucity of very large material and structural assemblages. As with many ‘in-between’ areas, developer-funded archaeology has increased the baseline dataset, although the interpretations of those data have not developed in parallel. This paper will demonstrate that, to more fully understand the integrated regional composition of Iron Age Britain, we must give detailed consideration to the evidence from these ‘gaps’. By bringing together for the first time all of the available aerial photographic, chronological, faunal, palaeobotanical, and excavated data in one of these ‘gap’ areas, southern Glamorgan, this paper will show that through the careful analysis of the available evidence we are able to gain an understanding of different areas’ distinctive regional characters and move beyond our over-reliance on a small number of key regions.

AbstractTwo boreholes in the Vale of Glamorgan have provided new data on the nature of the early Dinantian (Courceyan) transgression in South Wales. This transgression is manifested by the transition from the largely fluviatile, late Devonian, Upper Old Red Sandstone (Quartz Conglomerate Group) to the predominantly marine, early Dinantian, Lower Limestone Shale Group. The marine sequence comprises five shoaling upwards cycles, constructed from a suite of sedimentary lithofacies which record deposition in environments ranging from coastal plain, peritidal, lagoon, barrier and embayment to subtidal, open marine shelf. Each cycle represents a pulse of the transgression, and each successive pulse appears to have been larger than the preceding one, introducing progressively less restricted and more distal marine environments.Thirty-seven samples were processed for palynological analysis. Miospore biozonation supports the cycle correlations between the two boreholes, suggested by the sedimentary event stratigraphy. Detrital kerogens from the samples comprise both terrestrially derived and marine types in varying proportions. Each kerogen type is described as well as the size, sorting and preservation of each assemblage. A palynofacies profile is presented for eachof the depositional environments recognized.

AimsTo review the various available clinical models of care delivery for patients with persistent delusional disorder (PDD) in community and economically evaluate the REACT model of safe care delivery- REACT’s Assertive and Prudent- Model of Safe Care (RAP–MoSC).MethodsREACT (Response Enhanced Assessment Crisis and Home Treatment Team) is the only bespoke crisis and home treatment team for older adults with mental health problems in the whole of Wales available only for the residents of Cardiff and Vale of Glamorgan through Cardiff and Vale University Health Board..It was set up on 28 February 2012. The cases of PDD in REACT service since its inception to 31 Dec 2016 were studied in relation to the assertive and prudent health care model. The economic evaluation of this service model for PDD patients was studied in detail.Results of the studyThe RAP-MoSC model is economically effective in avoiding patients getting admitted to hospital under Mental Health Act by managing them safely in the community.During the period between 28 February 2012 and 31 December 2016 there were 44 patients with a diagnosis of PDD in REACT’s case load. Only 3 patients got admitted to mental health assessment ward with the average length of stay period of 120 days. 41 patients were safely managed in the community with REACT with an average length of stay period of 21 days in REACT. A PDD patient will cost NHS £21,000 if admitted to a mental health bed. If the patient is managed in the community with RAP-MoSC model of care the cost will be £1533. REACT saved £793,548 by avoiding 41 PDD patients being admitted into hospital during an episode of delusional intensification in the period February 2012 to December 2016. PDD patients need under the RAP-MoSC model a bespoke MDT approach with better communication between secondary mental health and primary care services. Assertive and Prudent Clinical leadership is needed to sustain the RAP-MoSC in the community. Clinical reflections of this model of care will be presented in the conference.ConclusionsOn reflection REACT found that the key points in working with PDD are; Using a ‘foot in the door approach’Mental health professionals introducing themselves as Health professionalsRemote prescribing

AbstractDid late Victorian strikers have a right to poor relief? Historians have suggested they did not. Scholars point out that nineteenth-century strikers rarely turned to the Poor Law for assistance, and when they did, during a colliers' strike in South Wales in 1898, Poor Law officials were taken to court by disgruntled coal companies. In the subsequent High Court ruling known as the Merthyr Tydfil judgment of 1900, the Master of the Rolls decided that the policy of relieving the strikers had indeed been unlawful. However, it is argued in this article that the judgment has not been properly understood by historians. Contemporaries did not think it obvious that the giving of poor relief to strikers was illegal. On the contrary, in 1898, there was widespread agreement that Poor Law officials had no choice but to support destitute strikers; the Poor Law demanded they relieve the men and their families, a point confirmed in an earlier High Court ruling in 1899. Thus, Poor Law scholars should view the Merthyr judgment as a notable innovation in Poor Law policy. Labor historians should see the ruling as part of the employers' counteroffensive against the labor movement of the 1890s and 1900s. Merthyr came out of the same febrile atmosphere that produced the Taff Vale judgment. That its true significance has been forgotten can largely be explained by the labor movement's unease at having a striker's right to poor relief confirmed in 1899. Respectable workers, union leaders averred, should not be supported out of the poor rates.

IntroductionVenous thromboembolism (VTE) is a potentially fatal condition. Hospital-associated VTE leads to more than 25,000 deaths per year in the UK. Therefore identification of at-risk patients is crucial. Psychiatric in-patients have unique factors which may affect their risk of VTE (antipsychotic prescription, restraint) however there are currently no UK guidelines which specifically address VTE risk in this population.ObjectivesWe assessed VTE risk among psychiatric inpatients in Cardiff and Vale university health board, Wales, UK, and whether proformas currently provided for VTE risk assessment were being completed.MethodsAll acute adult in-patient and old age psychiatric wards were assessed by a team of medical students and a junior doctor over three days. We used the UK department of health VTE risk assessment tool which was adapted to include factors specific for psychiatric patients. We also assessed if there were concerns about prescribing VTE prophylaxis (compression stockings or anticoagulants), because of a history of self-harm or ligature use.ResultsOf the 145 patients included, 0% had a completed VTE risk assessment form. We found 38.6% to be at an increased risk of VTE and there were concerns about prescribing VTE prophylaxis in 31% of patients.ConclusionsOur findings suggest that VTE risk assessment is not being carried out on psychiatric wards. Staff education is needed to improve awareness of VTE. Specific guidance for this population is needed due to the presence of unique risk factors in psychiatric in-patients and concerns regarding VTE prophylaxis.Disclosure of interestThe authors have not supplied their declaration of competing interest.

BackgroundPost-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) is a mental health disorder characterised by symptoms of re-experiencing, avoidance and hyperarousal that may develop after exposure to a traumatising event. The prevalence of PTSD within the refugee population is ten times higher than in the general population. This audit was carried out in Cardiff Health Access Practice (CHAP) which is the main provider of primary health care for refugees and asylum seekers who are sent to Cardiff. The main objective of this audit was to evaluate current PTSD prescribing practice for patients presenting to Cardiff Health Access Practice (CHAP) against a pharmacological prescribing algorithm which has been developed for the Cardiff and Vale Traumatic Stress Service based on NICE and International Society for Traumatic Stress Studies guidelinesMethodA retrospective audit of patients with PTSD seen in the last 12 months at CHAP. Data were collected from patient notes and information on age, sex, trauma, comorbidities and medication dose was collated and analysed using SPSS statistics.Result130 patients with PTSD were identified and their medications assessed for the audit. The mean age of these patients was 33 years and there was a 1.5:1 male to female ratio. Of the 130 patients only 10 were initiated on a first line medication, 117 were started on a fourth line medication. No patients were prescribed either the second- or third-line medications.ConclusionThe low rates of compliance with the All Wales Pharmacological PTSD pharmacological prescribing algorithm are disappointing although not unexpected as it has yet to be fully introduced to the service. Following discussion of the results and teaching about the algorithm with clinicians in Cardiff Health Access Practice rates of evidence-based prescribing should improve. This audit focuses on a patient group (refugee and asylum seekers) which has been identified as a priority group by the Welsh Government. Through further implementation of this algorithm there should be improved evidence-based prescribing and continuity of care for refugees

Abstract The article describes a traditional one-story building named cardenha, which is a type of vernacular building in the village of Vale de Poldros and widespread in the northern region of Portugal. The author has done the comparative analysis of construction of cardenha and similar structures that have dry stone masonry walls and corbelled dome roofs in the territory of the Mediterranean Basin. Related construction systems of cardenha were identified in the basic types of corbelled domes and unique features of the structures in Vale de Poldros are described.

AbstractThis paper examines manumissions within the harsh and volatile culture of fourteenth-century Crete. Three large collections of notarial documents for the years 1300-1306 allow a real-time view of increased sales, decreased prices, and manumissions in the wake of the Catalan and Ottoman conquests in western Anatolia. It appears that when the price of a slave was equivalent to the wages of a hired man, slaves were freed within a fairly short time after capture. There was a variety of ways in which manumission could be accomplished, and ransoming was a business in itself. Wills from the whole century provide information about relationships, possessions, and economics, and indicate that owners often took responsibility in assuring the future stability of emancipated slaves. Cretan society was fluid enough that freed slaves of every ethnic origin were easily assimilated.

An intravenous injection of 2 μg of [Asp1,Val5]-ANG II attenuated fluid secretion by the nasal salt glands of Pekin ducks. Ganglionic blockade with mecamylamine stopped salt gland secretion. Flow was reestablished by intravenous methacholine bromide during ganglionic blockade. A second injection of 2 μg of [Asp1,Val5]-ANG II failed to attenuate secretion during ganglionic blockade, showing that the peptide acts via the central nervous system and postganglionic parasympathetic nerves that supply the salt glands. Sympathetic nerves are located in the walls of blood vessels within the salt glands, and adrenergic fibers with “varicosities” supply extensively the secretory tubules. [Asp1,Val5]-ANG II decreased salt gland secretion both before and after α1-adrenergic blockade with prazosin, showing that the lowered activity was not caused by the release of norepinephrine from nerve endings and/or duck adrenal chromaffin cells. β-Adrenergic blockade with propranolol also failed to prevent the attenuation of secretion in response to an intravenous injection of 2 μg of [Asp1,Val5]-ANG II, which showed that epinephrine did not mediate the response to the peptide.

Early Cretaceous mesofossil floras from Portugal and North America include a surprising diversity of small, bitegmic angiosperm seeds with a hard exotestal seed coat. This study describes six different kinds of these seeds from three Portuguese mesofossil localities; Vale de Agua, Torres Vedras, and especially from Famalicão, which has yielded a flora exceptionally rich in exotestal seeds. All the seeds are almost smooth with a characteristic jigsaw puzzle-shaped surface pattern that is formed from the strongly undulate anticlinal walls of the sclerenchyma cells that comprise the exotesta. Several specimens have internal details preserved, including remains of a cellular nutritive tissue interpreted as endosperm, and a tiny embryo with two rudimentary cotyledons. Based on differences in details of the seed coat, and configuration of hilum and micropyle, the fossil seeds are assigned to six new genera, as six new species: Gastonispermum portugallicum gen. et sp. nov., Pazlia hilaris gen. et sp. nov., Pazliopsis reyi gen. et sp. nov., Reyispermum parvum gen. et sp. nov., Lusitanispermum choffatii gen. et sp. nov. and Silutanispermum kvacekiorum gen. et sp. nov. The characteristic exotestal cells with undulate anticlinal walls, details of the hilar and micropylar region, together with the tiny dicotyledonous embryos with rudimentary cotyledons, suggest close relationships to seeds of Nitaspermum and Tanispermum described previously from Early Cretaceous mesofossil floras from eastern North America. These exotestal seeds from Portugal and North America indicate the presence of diverse extinct early angiosperms close to the lineages that today include extant Austrobaileyales and Nymphaeales.

Restrictive cardiomyopathy (RCMP) is infrequent in occurrence compared to the other cardiomyopathies. The stiff ventricular walls impair the diastolic function, increase the filling pressures, and thereby result in heart failure. Amyloidosis, a systemic disorder is the most common cause of RCMP. The amyloid diagnosis is often missed as the features are masqueraded by the presence of other conditions. The Bicuspid aortic valve (BAV) is the most common congenital anomaly of the cardiovascular system occurring in approximately 0.5-2% of the general population. We present a case of bicuspid aortic valvular heart disease masking the amyloidosis with heart failure in a middle-aged male.

This work proposes a numerical procedure to simulate and optimize the thermal response of a multilayered wallboard system for building envelopes, where each layer can be possibly made of Phase Change Materials (PCM)-based composites to take advantage of their Thermal-Energy Storage (TES) capacity. The simulation step consists in solving the transient heat conduction equation across the whole wallboard using the enthalpy-based finite element method. The weather is described in detail by the Typical Meteorological Year (TMY) of the building location. Taking the TMY as well as the wall azimuth as inputs, EnergyPlusTM is used to define the convective boundary conditions at the external surface of the wall. For each layer, the material is chosen from a predefined vade mecum, including several PCM-based composites developed at the Institut für Werkstoffe im Bauwesen of TU Darmstadt together with standard insulating materials (i.e., EPS or Rockwool). Finally, the optimization step consists in using genetic algorithms to determine the stacking sequence of materials across the wallboard to minimize the undesired heat loads. The current simulation-based optimization procedure is applied to the design of envelopes for minimal undesired heat losses and gains in two locations with considerably different weather conditions, viz. Sauce Viejo in Argentina and Frankfurt in Germany. In general, for each location and all the considered orientations (north, east, south and west), optimal results consist of EPS walls containing a thin layer made of the PCM-based composite with highest TES capacity, placed near the middle of the wall and closer to the internal surface.

ABSTRACTObjective: to analyze the practice and knowledge of the communitarian health agents – CHAs, in the perspective of the health promotion concept; to identify the facilities and difficulties experienced by the CHAs for the development of actions in health promotion. Methodology: this is an exploratory-descriptive study carried out from June to August 2008, with fourteen CHAs in Sobral city/Ceará, using to obtain information’s a questionnaire. Ethical aspects were respected recommended by Resolution Nº 196/1996, and was approved by the Ethics in Research of the Universidade Estadual do Vale do Acaraú/UVA (number registration 681/2008). Results: from the conceptions of health promotion emerged the categories: health promotion as sickness prevention; community training; and making community access to the health services viable. The health promotion actions developed by the CHAs were centered in work with groups and the development of community activities, like walks, gymnastics and education in health. Within the facilities to develop health promotion actions, the nurses are considered collaborating professionals. The main difficulty presented was the inexistence of some professionals on the team. Conclusion: the study shows the importance that CHAs have for the execution of health promotion as a strategy for work in health. Descriptors: primary health care; family health program; health promotion.RESUMO Objetivo: analisar as práticas e saberes dos ACS, na perspectiva do conceito de promoção da saúde; identificar as facilidades e dificuldades vivenciadas pelos ACS para o desenvolvimento de ações de promoção da saúde. Metodologia: pesquisa exploratório-descritiva, realizada no período de junho a agosto de 2008, com quatorze ACS d acidade de Sobral – Ceará, utilizando como instrumento para coleta de dados um questionário. Foram respeitados os aspectos éticos preconizados pela Resolução Nº 196/1996, sendo aprovado pelo Comitê de Ética em Pesquisa da Universidade Estadual do Vale do Acaraú/UVA, mediante parecer consubstanciado 681/2008. Resultados: das concepções de promoção da saúde, emergiram as categorias: promoção da saúde como prevenção de doenças; como capacitação da comunidade; e viabilização do acesso da comunidade aos serviços de saúde. As ações de promoção da saúde desenvolvidas pelos ACS centram-se nos trabalhos com grupos em desenvolvimento de atividades comunitárias, como caminhadas, ginástica e educação em saúde. Nas facilidades para desenvolver ações de promoção da saúde, as enfermeiras são consideradas profissionais colaboradoras. A principal dificuldade apresentada foi a inexistência de alguns profissionais na equipe. Conclusão: O estudo mostra a importância que o ACS possui para a efetivação da promoção da saúde como estratégia para o trabalho em saúde. Descritores: atenção primária à saúde; programa saúde da família; promoção da saúde. RESUMENObjetivo: analizar las prácticas y conocimientos de los ACS, desde la perspectiva del concepto de promoción de la salud; identificar las facilidades y dificultades vividas por los ACS para el desarrollo de acciones de promoción de la salud. Metodología: Investigación exploratoria-descriptiva, realizada entre junio y agosto de 2008, con catorce ACS, Sobral – Ceará, utilizando un cuestionario de recogida de datos. Os aspectos éticos fueron respetados recomendado por la Resolución Nº 196/1996, y fue aprobado por la Comisión de Ética en la Investigación de la Universidade Estadual do Vale do Acaraú/UVA, con el numero del protocolo 681/2008. Resultados: de las concepciones de promoción de la salud surgieron las categorías: promoción de la salud como prevención de enfermedades; como capacitación de la comunidad; y viabilización del acceso de la comunidad a los servicios de salud. Las acciones de promoción de la salud desarrolladas por los ACS se centran en los trabajos con grupos y el desarrollo de actividades comunitarias, como caminatas, gimnasia y educación salud. Entre las facilidades para desarrollar acciones de promoción de la salud, las enfermeras son consideradas profesionales colaboradoras. La principal dificultad presentada fue la inexistencia de algunos profesionales en el equipo. Conclusión: El estudio muestra la importancia que tiene el ACS para hacer efectiva la promoción de la salud como estrategia para el trabajo en salud. Descriptores: atención primaria a la salud; programa salud de la familia; promoción de la salud.

Information and communication technology (ICT) has the credit to be relatively more closely related to the society facilitating economic transactions to be easy and fast and social wellbeing in all walks of life. It has had global and international importance, as it has worked as an important tool in globalizing the world, and has become a pressing necessity of the globalized world. Moreover, its relevance in the globalized world is intensifying, as its constructive role is every day spiraling. Its vale in that sense will go on mounting. On the other hand, its evil-ridden uses and abuses are menacing the people and countries around the world. Delinquent people and rogue countries are using the technology for achieving their sinister objectives. This aspect of the technology is bothering policymakers, business executives and individuals in the society. In view of this, two pertinent questions arise: one, which of the two aspects of the information and communication technology is dominant; and second, what preventive and punitive measures should we adopt in order to mitigate the evil use of the technology. A vivid comparison of both, which has been carried out in the paper, demonstrates that the beneficial use of the information and communication technology is predominantly high. Thus, our strategy, as the paper suggests, should be to support the useful aspect of the technology with useful conditionality so that it could abate and control its evil use, and to adopt preventive and punitive measures in order to defeat the evil-doers. For that, both legal and extralegal tools should be adhered to. Towards these, the paper offers some useful suggestions.

Wayland's Smithy, on the north scarp of the downs above the Vale of the White Horse, is a two-phase Neolithic tomb. It has been a recognized feature of the historic landscape since at least the 10th century AD. It was recorded by Aubrey and later antiquaries, and continued to be of interest in the 19th century. It was amongst the first monuments to be protected by scheduling from 1882. The first excavations in 1919–20 were haphazardly organized and poorly recorded, but served to confirm, as suggested by Akerman and Thurnam, that the stone terminal chamber was transepted, to show that it had held burials, and to indicate the likely existence of an earlier structural phase.Further excavations took place in 1962–63 to explore the monument more and restore it for better presentation. The excavations revealed a two-phase monument. Wayland's Smithy I is a small oval barrow, defined by flanking ditches, an oval kerb, and a low chalk and sarsen barrow. It contains a mortuary structure defined by large pits which held posts of split trunks, a pavement, and opposed linear cairns of sarsen. This has been seen as the remains of a pitched and ridged mortuary tent, in the manner proposed also for the structure under the Fussell's Lodge long barrow, but in the light of ensuing debate and of subsequent discoveries elsewhere, it can also be seen as an embanked, box-like structure, perhaps with a flat wooden roof. This structure contained the remains of at least fourteen human skeletons, in varying states of completeness. The burial rite may have included primary burial or exposure elsewhere, but some at least of the bodies could have been deposited directly into the mortuary structure, and subsequent circulation or removal of bones cannot be discounted. Little silt accumulated in the ditches of phase I before the construction of phase II, and a charcoal sample from this interval gave a date of 3700–3390 BC.Wayland's Smithy II consists of a low sarsen-kerbed trapezoidal barrow, with flanking ditches, which follows the north–south alignment of phase I. At the south end there was a façade of larger sarsen stones, from which ran back a short passage leading to a transepted chamber, roofed with substantial capstones. This could have risen above the surrounding barrow. The excavations of 1919–20 revealed the presence of incomplete human burials in the west transept; the chamber had probably already been disturbed. The excavations of 1962–63 revealed further structural detail of the surrounds of the chamber, including a sarsen cairn piled in front and around it; deposits of calcium carbonate well up the walls of the chamber could be taken to suggest the former existence of chalk rubble blocking, in the manner of the West Kennet long barrow.The monuments were built over a thin chalk soil which had been a little disturbed. The molluscan evidence shows open surroundings. Molluscan samples from the ditch of Wayland's Smithy II show subsequent regeneration of woodland.Later activity on the site took the form of field ditches and lynchets, part of locally extensive field systems in the Iron Age and Romano-British period. Molluscan samples show again open country. There is evidence for disturbance of the tomb in late prehistoric and Roman times, and the denudation of the barrow had probably largely been effected by the end of the Roman era.Wayland's Smithy provides important evidence for the sequence and development of Neolithic mortuary structures and burials. It is possible to suggest a gradual development for the structures ofWayland's Smithy I, in which opposed pits and substantial posts were incorporated into a box-like, linear mortuary structure, which in turn was incorporated into a small barrow. The subsequent construction of Wayland's Smithy II has become a classic example of the succession from small to large, and fits the late date of tombs with transepted chambers suggested by recent study of other sites. The nature of the circumstances surrounding this transformation remains unclear. The burials of phase I suggest the necessity of revising current notions about the ubiquity of secondary disposal in mortuary structures and tombs. In situtransformations suggest a very active concern with the dead, and offset the non-monumental character of the primary mortuary structure. In the relative absence of other detailed local evidence it is hard to relate the site to its local context, though comparisons can be drawn with the sequences of the neighbouring upper Thames valley and the upper Kennet valley and surrounding downland.

Abstract Background Understanding the spatial–temporal distribution characteristics of urban road traffic accidents is important for urban road traffic safety management. Based on the road traffic data of Wales in 2017, the spatial–temporal distribution of accidents is formed. Methods The density analysis method is used to identify the areas with high accident incidence and the areas with high accident severity. Then, two types of spatial clustering analysis models, outlier analysis and hot spot analysis are used to further identify the regions with high accident severity. Results The results of density analysis and cluster analysis are compared. The results of density analysis show that, in terms of accident frequency and accident severity, Swansea, Neath Port Talbot, Bridgend, Merthyr Tydfil, Cardiff, Caerphilly, Newport, Denbighshire, Vale of Glamorgan, Rhondda Cynon Taff, Flintshire and Wrexham have high accident frequency and accident severity per unit area. Cluster analysis results are similar to the density analysis. Finally, the temporal distribution characteristics of traffic accidents are analyzed according to month, week, day and hour. Accidents are concentrated in July and August, frequently in the morning rush hour and at dusk, with the most accidents occurring on Saturday. Conclusions By comparing the two methods, it can be concluded that the density analysis is simple and easy to understand, which is conducive to understanding the spatial distribution characteristics of urban traffic accidents directly. Cluster analysis can be accurate to the accident point and obtain the clustering characteristics of road accidents.

El arte flamenco se escribe con mayúscula. De una tradición anclada al pasado podríamos encontrar su explicación actual a través de pasajes de la mitología antigua, al igual que de la herencia de árabes y sefardíes. El presente artículo pretende poner en valor el potencial expresivo del cuerpo y la comunicación gestual en el baile flamenco. Con ello, pies y manos, cara y cabello dibujan el compás en el escenario y permiten diseñar siluetas con el cuerpo como si de un pincel se tratase. Mientras que la expresividad eclosiona con tonos cromáticos que facilita el deleite y la belleza. Un baile que se nutre de objetos para significarlo y el bailaor o bailaora se vale del zapateo para hacerse, también, en músico que lleva el compás, comunicando según su intensidad o velocidad de ejecución. El cuerpo en el baile flamenco y la comunicación gestual es un pretexto para iniciar un debate que no concluye sino que se nutre de la herencia y camina, evolucionando, hacia un presente con futuro. Flamenco art is written with a capital letter. From a tradition anchored in the past we could find its current explanation through passages from ancient mythology, as well as from the heritage of Arabs and Sephardim. Everything gives us to understand the expressive value of the body and the gestual communication in the flamenco dance. Body and face, hair and hands draw the compass on stage. They allow to draw silhouettes that take the compass taking as a brush the body and its expressiveness hatches with chromatic tones that facilitate the delight and the beauty. A dance that is nourished by objects to signify it and the dancer uses the zapateo to become, also, a musician who carries the compás and communicates according to its intensity or speed of execution. The body in flamenco dance and gestural communication is a pretext to start a debate that does not end, but is nourished by heritage and walks, evolving, towards a present with a future.

IntroductionIn Britain, hunger is often hidden in the privacy of the home. Yet otherwise private hunger is currently being rendered public and visible in the growing queues at charity-run food banks, where emergency food parcels are distributed directly to those who cannot afford to feed themselves or their families adequately (Downing et al.; Caplan). Food banks, in providing emergency relief to those in need, are responses to crisis moments, actualised through an embodied feeling of hunger that cannot be alleviated. The growing queues at food banks not only render hidden hunger visible, but also serve as reminders of the corporeal vulnerability of the human body to political and socio-economic shifts.A consideration of corporeality allows us to view the world through the lived experiences of the body. Human beings are “creatures of the flesh” who understand and reason, act and interact with their environments through the body (Johnson 81). The growing academic interest in corporeality signifies what Judith Butler calls a “new bodily ontology” (2). However, as Butler highlights, the body is also vulnerable to injury and suffering. An application of this ontology to hunger draws attention to eating as essential to life, so the denial of food poses an existential threat to health and ultimately to survival. The body’s response to threat is the physiological experience of hunger as a craving or longing that is the “most bodily experience of need […] a visceral desire locatable in a void” in which an empty stomach “initiates” a series of sounds and pangs that “call for action” in the form of eating (Anderson 27). Food bank queues serve as visible public reminders of this precariousness and of how social conditions can limit the ability of individuals to feed themselves, and so respond to an existential threat.Corporeal vulnerability made visible elicits responses that support societal interventions to feed the hungry, or that stigmatise hungry people by withdrawing or disparaging what limited support is available. Responses to vulnerability therefore evoke nurture and care or violence and abuse, and so in this sense are ambiguous (Butler; Cavarero). The responses are also normative, shaped by social and cultural understandings of what hunger is, what its causes are, and whether it is seen as originating in personal or societal failings. The stigmatising of individuals by blaming them for their hunger is closely allied to the feelings of shame that lie at the “irreducible absolutist core” of the idea of poverty (Sen 159). Shame is where the “internally felt inadequacies” of the impoverished individual and the “externally inflicted judgments” of society about the hungry body come together in a “co-construction of shame” (Walker et al. 5) that is a key part of the lived experience of hunger. The experience of shame, while common, is far from inevitable and is open to resistance (see Pickett; Foucault); shame can be subverted, turned from the hungry body and onto the society that allows hunger to happen. Who and what are deemed responsible are shaped by shifting ideas and contested understandings of hunger at a particular moment in time (Vernon).This exploration of corporeal vulnerability through food banks as a historically located response to hunger offers an alternative to studies which privilege representations, objectifying the body and “treating it as a discursive, textual, iconographic and metaphorical reality” while neglecting understandings derived from lived experiences and the responses that visible vulnerabilities elicit (Hamilakis 99). The argument made in this paper calls for a critical reconsideration of classic political economy approaches that view hunger in terms of a class struggle against the material conditions that give rise to it, and responses that ultimately led to the construction of the welfare state (Vernon). These political economy approaches, in focusing on the structures that lead to hunger and that respond to it, are more closed than Butler’s notion of ambiguous and constantly changing social responses to corporeal vulnerability. This paper also challenges the dominant tradition of nutrition science, which medicalises hunger. While nutrition science usefully draws attention to the physiological experiences and existential threat posed by acute hunger, the scientific focus on the “anatomical functioning” of the body and the optimising of survival problematically separates eating from the social contexts in which hunger is experienced (Lupton 11, 12; Abbots and Lavis). The focus in this article on the corporeal vulnerability of hunger interweaves contested representations of, and ideas about, hunger with the physiological experience of it, the material conditions that shape it, and the lived experiences of deprivation. Food banks offer a lens onto these experiences and their complexities.Food Banks: Deprivation Made VisibleSince the 1980s, food banks have become the fastest growing charitable organisations in the wealthiest countries of North America, Europe, and Australasia (Riches), but in Britain they are a recent phenomenon. The first opened in 2000, and by 2014, the largest operator, the Trussell Trust, had over 420 franchised food banks, and more recently was opening more than one per week (Lambie-Mumford et al.; Lambie-Mumford and Dowler). British food banks hand out emergency food relief directly to those who cannot afford to feed themselves or their families adequately, and have become new sites where deprivation is materialised through a congregation of hungry people and the distribution of food parcels. The food relief parcels are intended as short-term immediate responses to crisis moments felt within the body when the individual cannot alleviate hunger through their own resources; they are for “emergency use only” to ameliorate individual crisis and acute vulnerability, and are not intended as long-term solutions to sustained, chronic poverty (Perry et al.). The need for food banks has emerged with the continued shrinkage of the welfare state, which for the past half century sought to mediate the impact of changing individual and social circumstances on those deemed to be most vulnerable to the vicissitudes of life. The proliferation of food banks since the 2009 financial crisis and the increased public discourse about them has normalised their presence and naturalised their role in alleviating acute food poverty (Perry et al.).Media images of food bank queues and stacks of tins waiting to be handed out (Glaze; Gore) evoke collective memories from the early twentieth century of hunger marches in protest at government inaction over poverty, long queues at soup kitchens, and the faces of gaunt, unemployed war veterans (Vernon). After the Second World War, the spectre of communism and the expansionist agenda of the Soviet Union meant such images of hunger could become tools in a propaganda war constructed around the failure of the British state to care for its citizens (Field; Clarke et al; Vernon). The 1945 Labour government, elected on a social democratic agenda of reform in an era of food rationing, responded with a “war on want” based on the normative premise that no one should be without food, medical care, shelter, warmth or work. Labour’s response was the construction of the modern welfare state.The welfare state signified a major shift in ideational understandings of hunger. In the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, ideas about hunger had been rooted in a moralistic account of divine punishment for individual failure (Vernon). Bodily experiences of hunger were seen as instruments for disciplining the indigent into a work ethic appropriate for a modern industrialised economy. The infamous workhouses, finally abolished in 1948, were key sites of deprivation where restrictions on how much food was distributed served to punish or discipline the hungry body into compliance with the dominant work ethic (Vernon; Foucault). However, these ideas shifted in the second half of the nineteenth century as the hungry citizen in Britain (if not in its colonies) was increasingly viewed as a victim of wider forces beyond the control of the individual, and the notion of disciplining the hungry body in workhouses was seen as reprehensible. A humanitarian treatment of hunger replaced a disciplinarian one as a more appropriate response to acute need (Shaw; Vernon). Charitable and reformist organisations proliferated with an agenda to feed, clothe, house, and campaign on behalf of those most deprived, and civil society largely assumed responsibility for those unable to feed themselves. By the early 1900s, ideas about hunger had begun to shift again, and after the Second World War ideational changes were formalised in the welfare state, premised on a view of hunger as due to structural rather than individual failure, hence the need for state intervention encapsulated in the “cradle to grave” mantra of the welfare state, i.e. of consistent care at the point of need for all citizens for their lifetime (see Clarke and Newman; Field; Powell). In this context, the suggestion that Britons could go to bed hungry because they could not afford to feed themselves would be seen as the failure of the “war on want” and of an advanced modern democracy to fulfil its responsibilities for the welfare of its citizens.Since the 1980s, there has been a retreat from these ideas. Successive governments have sought to rein in, reinvent or shrink what they have perceived as a “bloated” welfare state. In their view this has incentivised “dependency” by providing benefits so generous that the supposedly work-shy or “skivers” have no need to seek employment and can fund a diet of takeaways and luxury televisions (Howarth). These stigmatising ideas have, since the 2009 financial crisis and the 2010 election, become more entrenched as the Conservative-led government has sought to renew a neo-liberal agenda to shrink the welfare state, and legitimise a new mantra of austerity. This mantra is premised on the idea that the state can no longer afford the bloated welfare budget, that responsible government needs to “wean” people off benefits, and that sanctions imposed for not seeking work or for incorrectly filling in benefit claim forms serve to “encourage” people into work. Critics counter-argue that the punitive nature of sanctions has exacerbated deprivation and contributed to the growing use of food banks, a view the government disputes (Howarth; Caplan).Food Banks as Sites of Vulnerable CorporealityIn these shifting contexts, food banks have proliferated not only as sites of deprivation but also as sites of vulnerable corporeality, where people unable to draw on individual resources to respond to hunger congregate in search of social and material support. As growing numbers of people in Britain find themselves in this situation, the vulnerable corporeality of the hungry body becomes more pervasive and more visible. Hunger as a lived experience is laid bare in ever-longer food bank queues and also through the physiological, emotional and social consequences graphically described in personal blogs and in the testimonies of food bank users.Blogger Jack Monroe, for example, has recounted giving what little food she had to her child and going to bed hungry with a pot of ginger tea to “ease the stomach pains”; saying to her curious child “I’m not hungry,” while “the rumblings of my stomach call me a liar” (Monroe, Hunger Hurts). She has also written that her recourse to food banks started with the “terrifying and humiliating” admission that “you cannot afford to feed your child” and has expressed her reluctance to solicit the help of the food bank because “it feels like begging” (Monroe, Austerity Works?). Such blog accounts are corroborated in reports by food bank operators and a parliamentary enquiry which told stories of mothers not eating for days after being sanctioned under the benefit system; of children going to school hungry; of people leaving hospital after a major operation unable to feed themselves since their benefits have been cut; of the elderly having to make “hard choices” between “heat or eat” each winter; and of mixed feelings of relief and shame at receiving food bank parcels (All-Party Parliamentary Inquiry; Beattie; Cooper and Dumpleton; Caplan; Perry et al.). That is, two different visibilities have emerged: the shame of standing or being seen to stand in the food bank queue, and blogs that describe these feelings and the lived experience of hunger – both are vulnerable and visible, but in different ways and in different spaces: the physical or material, and the virtual.The response of doctors to the growing evidence of crisis was to warn that there were “all the signs of a public health emergency that could go unrecognised until it is too late to take preventative action,” that progress made against food poverty since the 1960s was being eroded (Ashton et al. 1631), and that the “robust last line of defence against hunger” provided by the welfare state was failing (Loopstra et al. n.p). Medical professionals thus sought to conscript the rhetorical resources of their professional credibility to highlight that this is a politically created public health crisis.This is not to suggest that acute hunger was absent for 50 years of the welfare state, but that with the closure of the last workhouses, the end of hunger marches, and the shutting of the soup kitchens by the 1950s, it became less visible. Over the past decade, hunger has become more visible in images of growing queues at food banks and stacked tins ready to be handed out by volunteers (Glaze; Gore) on production of a voucher provided on referral by professionals. Doctors, social workers or teachers are therefore tasked with discerning cases of need, deciding whose need is “genuine” and so worthy of food relief (see Downing et al.). The voucher system is regulated by professionals so that food banks are open only to those with a public identity constructed around bodily crisis. The sense of something as intimate as hunger being defined by others contrasts to making visible one’s own hunger through blogging. It suggests again how bodies become caught up in wider political struggles where not only is shame a co-construction of internal inadequacies and external judgements, but so too is hunger, albeit in different yet interweaving ways. New boundaries are being established between those who are deprived and those who are not, and also between those whose bodies are in short-term acute crisis, and those whose bodies are in long-term and chronic crisis, which is not deemed to be an emergency. It is in this context that food banks have also become sites of demarcation, shame, and contestation.Public debates about growing food bank queues highlight the ambiguous nature of societal responses to the vulnerability of hunger made visible. Government ministers have intensified internal shame in attributing growing food bank queues to individual inadequacies, failure to manage household budgets (Gove), and profligate spending on luxury (Johnston; Shipton). Civil society organisations have contested this account of hunger, turning shame away from the individual and onto the government. Austerity reforms have, they argue, “torn apart” the “basic safety net” of social responses to corporeal vulnerability put in place after the Second World War and intended to ensure that no-one was left hungry or destitute (Bingham), their vulnerability unattended to. Furthermore, the benefit sanctions impose punitive measures that leave families with “nothing” to live on for weeks. Hungry citizens, confronted with their own corporeal vulnerability and little choice but to seek relief from food banks, echo the Dickensian era of the workhouse (Cooper and Dumpleton) and indict the UK government response to poverty. Church leaders have called on the government to exercise “moral duty” and recognise the “acute moral imperative to act” to alleviate the suffering of the hungry body (Beattie; see also Bingham), and respond ethically to corporeal vulnerability with social policies that address unmet need for food. However, future cuts to welfare benefits mean the need for relief is likely to intensify.ConclusionThe aim of this paper was to explore the vulnerable corporeality of hunger through the lens of food banks, the twenty-first-century manifestations of charitable responses to acute need. Food banks have emerged in a gap between the renewal of a neo-liberal agenda of prudent government spending and the retreat of the welfare state, between struggles over resurgent ideas about individual responsibility and deep disquiet about wider social responsibilities. Food banks as sites of deprivation, in drawing attention to a newly vulnerable corporeality, potentially pose a threat to the moral credibility of the neo-liberal state. The threat is highlighted when the taboo of a hungry body, previously hidden because of shame, is being challenged by two new visibilities, that of food bank queues and the commentaries on blogs about the shame of having to queue for food.ReferencesAbbots, Emma-Jayne, and Anna Lavis. Eds. Why We Eat, How We Eat: Contemporary Encounters between Foods and Bodies. Farnham: Ashgate, 2013.All-Party Parliamentary Inquiry. “Feeding Britain.” 2014. 6 Jan. 2016 <https://foodpovertyinquiry.files.wordpress.com/2014/12/food>.Anderson, Patrick. “So Much Wasted:” Hunger, Performance, and the Morbidity of Resistance. 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This paper will discuss the way in which the creative component of my thesis Hannah’s Place uses a style of neo-historical fiction to find ‘good’ narratives in (once) ‘bad’ women, keeping with the theme, here paraphrased as: The work of any researcher in the humanities is to…challenge what is simply thought of as bad or good, to complicate essentialist categories and question passively accepted thinking. As a way of expanding this statement, I would like to begin by considering the following quote from Barthes on the nature of research. I believe he identifies the type of research that I have been involved with as a PhD candidate producing a ‘creative’ thesis in the field of Communications. What is a piece of research? To find out, we would need to have some idea of what a ‘result’ is. What is it that one finds? What is it one wants to find? What is missing? In what axiomatic field will the fact isolated, the meaning brought out, the statistical discovery be placed? No doubt it depends each time on the particular science approached, but from the moment a piece of research concerns the text (and the text extends very much further than the literary work) the research itself becomes text, production: to it, any ‘result’ is literally im-pertinent. Research is then the name which prudently, under the constraint of certain social conditions, we give to the activity of writing: research here moves on the side of writing, is an adventure of the signifier. (Barthes 198) My thesis sits within the theoretical framework of postmodern literature as a new form of the genre that has been termed ‘historical fiction’. Although the novel breaks away from and challenges the concept of the traditional ‘saga’ style of narrative, or ‘grand narrative’ within historical fiction, it is no less concerned with events of the past and the idea of past experience. It departs from traditional historical fiction in that it foregrounds not only an imagined fictional past world created when the novel is read, but also the actual archival documents, the pieces of text from the past from which traditional history is made, and which here have been used to create that world–‘sparking points’ for the fictional narrative. These archival documents are used within the work as intertextual elements that frame, and, in turn, are framed by the transworld characters’ homodiegetic narrations. The term ‘transworld character’ has been attributed to Umberto Eco and refers to any real world personages found within a fictional text. Eco defines it as the ‘identity of a given individual through worlds (transworld identity)…where the possible world is a possible state of affairs expressed by a set of relevant propositions [either true or untrue which] outlines a set of possible individuals along with their properties’ (219). Umberto Eco also considers that a problem of transworld identity is ‘to single out something as persistent through alternative states of affairs’ (230). In Postmodernist Fiction, Brian McHale also puts forward a number of definitions for ‘transworld identity’. For my purposes, I take it to mean both that defined by Eco but also the literary device, as defined by McHale, of ‘borrowing a character from another text’ (57). It is McHale who elaborates on the concept as it relates to historical fiction when he states: All historical novels, even the most traditional, typically involve some violation of ontological boundaries. For instance they often claim ‘transworld identity’ between characters in their projected worlds and real-world historical figures (16-17). Interestingly for the type of fiction that I am attempting to write, McHale also takes the idea into another area when he discusses the ontological levels of the historical dimension that transworld identities may undergo. Entities can change their ontological status in the course of history, in effect migrating from one ontological realm or level to another. For instance, real world entities and happenings can undergo ‘mythification’, moving from the profane realm to the realm of the sacred (36). For transworld identities, such as those within my novel, this may mean a change in status between the past, where they were stereotyped and categorised as ‘bad’ in contemporary newspapers (my intertext elements), to something in the present approaching ‘good’, or at least a more rounded female identity within a fictional world. The introduced textual elements which I foreground in my novel are those things most often hidden from view within the mimetic and hermeneutic worlds of traditional historical fiction. The sources re-textualised within my novel are both ‘real’ items from our past, and representations and interpretations of past events. The female transworld characters’ stories in this novel are imaginative re-interpretations. Therefore, both the fictional stories, as well as their sources, are textual interpretations of prior events. In this way, the novel plays with the idea of historical ‘fact’ and historical ‘fiction’. It blurs their boundaries. It gives textual equality to each in order to bring a form of textual agency to those marginalised groups defined by PF Bradley as the ‘host of jarring witnesses, [of history] a chaos of disjoined and discrepant narrations’ (Bradley in Holton 11): In the past in Australia these were lower class women, Aboriginals, the Irish, the illiterate, and poor agricultural immigrants whose labour was excess to Britain’s needs. Hannah’s Place – A Brief Synopsis Six individual women’s stories, embedded in or ‘framed’ by a fictional topographic artist’s journal, recount ‘real’ events from Australia’s colonial past. The journal is set in 1845; a few years after convict transportation to Australia’s eastern states ceased, and the year of the first art exhibition held in the colony. That same year, Leichhardt’s expedition arrived at Port Essington in Australia’s far north, after 12 months inland exploration, while in the far south the immigrant ship Cataraqui was wrecked one day short of arrival at Melbourne’s Port Phillip with the drowning of all but one of the 369 immigrants and 38 of the 46 sailors on board. Each chapter title takes the form of the title of a topographic sketch as a way of placing the text ‘visually’ within the artist’s journal narrative. The six women’s stories are: New South Wales at Last (Woman on a Boat): A woman arrives with a sick toddler to tent accommodation for poor immigrants in Sydney, after a three month sea voyage and the shipboard birth, death, and burial at sea of her baby daughter. Yarramundi Homestead, as Seen from the East: An ill-treated Irish servant girl on a squatter’s run awaits the arrival of her fiancée, travelling on board the immigrant ship Cataraqui. In the Vale of Hartley: In the Blue Mountains, an emancipist sawyer who previously murdered three people, violently beats to death his lover, Caroline Collitts, the seventeen-year-old sister of Maria, his fifteen-year-old wife. She Being Dead Yet Speaketh: In Goulburn, Annie Brownlow, a pretty 24-year-old mother of three is executed by a convict executioner for the accidental ‘murder’, while drunk, of her adulterous husband. The Eldest Daughter: The isolated wife of a small settler gives birth, assisted by Lottie, her eldest daughter, and Merrung, an Aboriginal midwife. On Wednesday Last, at Mr Ley’s Coach and Horses Hotel: In Bathurst, a vagrant alcoholic, Hannah Simpson, dies on the floor of a dodgy boarding house after a night and a day of falling into fits and ranting about her lifetime of 30 years migration. Historiographic Metafiction Has been defined by Linda Hutcheon as ‘Fiction which keeps distinct its formal auto-representation from its historical context and in so doing problematises the very possibility of historical knowledge… There is no reconciliation, no dialectic…just unresolved contradiction’ (106). Unresolved contradiction is one of the themes that surfaces in my novel because of the juxtaposition of archival documents (past text ‘facts’) alongside fictional narrative. Historiographic metafiction can usefully be employed as a means of challenging prior patriarchal narratives written about marginalised women. It allows the freedom to create a space for a new understanding of silenced women’s lives. My novel seeks to illuminate and problematise the previously ‘seamless’ genre of hical fiction by the use of (narrative) techniques such as: collage and juxtaposition, intertextuality, framing, embedded narrative, linked stories, and footnote intertext of archival material. Juxtaposition of the fiction against elements from prior non-fiction texts, clearly enunciated as being those same actual historical sources upon which the fiction is based, reinforces this novel as a work of fiction. Yet this strategy also reminds us that the historical narrative created is provisional, residing within the fictional text and in the gaps between the fictional text and the non-fictional intertext. At the same time, the clear narrativity, the suspenseful and sensationalised text of the archival non-fiction, brings them into question because of their place alongside the fiction. A reading of the novel questions the truthfulness or degree of reliability of past textual ‘facts’ as accurate records of real women’s life events. It does this by the use of a parallel narrative, which articulates characters whose moments of ‘breaking frame’ challenge those same past texts. Their ‘fiction’ as characters is reinforced by their existence as ‘objects’ of narration within the archival texts. Both the archival texts and the fiction can be seen as ‘unreliable’. The novel uses ex-centric transworld characters and embedded intertextual ‘fragments’ to create a covert self-reflexivity. It also confuses and disrupts narrative temporality and linearity of plot in two ways. It juxtaposes ‘real’ (intertextual element) dates alongside conflicting or unknown periods of time from the fictional narrative; and, within the artist’s journal, it has a minimal use of expected temporal ‘signposts’. These ‘signposts’ of year dates, months, or days of the week are those things that would be most expected in an authentic travel narrative. In this way, the women’s stories subvert the idea, inherent in previous forms of ‘historical’ fiction, of a single point of view or ‘take’ on history that one or two main characters may hold. The use of intertext results in a continued restating of multiple, conflicting (gender, race, and class) points of view. Ultimately no one ‘correct’ reading of the past gains in supremacy over any other. This narrative construct rearticulates the idea that the past, as does the present, comprises different points of view, not all of which conform to the ‘correct’ view created by the political, social and economic ‘factors’ dominant at the time those events happen. For colonial Australia, this single point of view gave us the myth of heroic (white male) pioneers and positioned women such as some of those within my fiction as ‘bad’. The fictional text challenges that of the male ‘gaze’, which constructed these women as ‘objects’. Examples of this from the newspaper articles are: A younger sister of Caroline Collit, married John Walsh, the convict at present under sentence of death in Bathurst gaol, and, it appears, continued to live with him up till the time of her sister’s murder; but she, as well as her sister Caroline, since the trial, have been ascertained to have borne very loose characters, which is fully established by the fact, that both before and after Walsh had married the younger sister, Caroline cohabited with him and had in fact been for a considerable time living with him, under the same roof with her sister, and in a state of separation from her own husband (Collit). Sydney Morning Herald, April 27, 1842, The Mount Victoria Murder. About twelve months after her marriage, her mother who was a notorious drunkard hanged herself in her own house… Sydney Morning Herald, April 27, 1842, The Mount Victoria Murder. And when we further reflect that the perpetrator of that deed of blood was a woman our horror is, if possible, much augmented. Yes! A woman and one who ought to have been in as much as the means were assuredly in the power of her family-an ornament to her sex and station. She has been cut off in the midst of her days by the hands of the common executioner. And to add to our distress at this sad event she to whose tragic end I am referring was a wife and a mother. It was her hand which struck the blow that rendered her children orphans and brought her to an ignominious end… The Goulburn Herald, October 20, 1855, Funeral sermon on Mary Ann Brownlow. His wife had been drinking and created an altercation on account of his having sold [her] lease; she asked him to drink, but he refused, when she replied “You can go and drink with your fancywoman”. She came after him as he was going away and stabbed him…..she did it from jealousy, although he had never given her any cause for jealousy. The Goulburn Herald, Saturday, September 15, 1855, Tuesday, September 11, Wilful Murder. She was always most obedient and quiet in her conduct, and her melancholy winning manners soon procured her the sympathy of all who came in contact with her. She became deeply impressed with the sinfulness of her previous life… The Goulburn Herald, October 13, 1855, Execution of Mary Ann Brownlow. [Police] had known the deceased who was a confirmed drunkard and an abandoned woman without any home or place of abode; did not believe she had any proper means of support…The Bathurst Times, November 1871. It is the oppositional and strong narrative ‘voice’ that elicits sympathies for and with the women’s situations. The fictional narratives were written to challenge unsympathetic pre-existing narratives found within the archival intertexts. This male ‘voice’ was one that narrated and positioned women such that they adhered to pre-existing notions of morality; what it meant to be a ‘good’ woman (like Mary Ann Brownlow, reformed in gaol but still sentenced to death) or a ‘bad’ woman (Mary Ann again as the murdering drunken vengeful wife, stabbing her husband in a jealous rage). ‘Reading between the lines’ of history in this way, creating fictional stories and juxtaposing them against the non-fiction prior articulations of those same events, is an opportunity to make use of narrative structure in order to destabilise established constructs of our colonial past. For example, the trope of Australia’s colonial settler women as exampled in the notion of Anne Summers of colonial women as either God’s police or damned whores. ‘A Particularly rigid dualistic notion of women’s function in colonial society was embodied in two stereotypes….that women are either good [God’s police] or evil [Damned whores]’ (67). With this dualism in mind, it is also useful here to consider the assumption made by Veeser in laying the ground work for New Historicism, that ‘no discourse imaginative or archival, gives access to unchanging truths or expresses unalterable human nature’ (2). In a discussion of the ideas of Brian McHale, Middleton and Woods acknowledge McHale’s point of view that readers do recognise the degree to which all knowledge of the past is a construction. They make the claim that ‘the postmodern novelist answers that sense of dislocation and loss…by wrapping ruins of earlier textualities around the narrative’ (66). This to my mind is a call for the type of intertextuality that I have attempted in my thesis. The senses of dislocation and loss found when we attempt to narrativise history are embodied in the structure of the creative component of my thesis. Yet it could also be argued that the cultural complexity of colonial Australia, with women as the subjugated ‘other’ of a disempowered voice has only been constructed by and from within the present. The ‘real’ women from whose lives these stories are imagined could not have perceived their lives within the frames (class, gender, post coloniality) that we now understand in the same way that we as educated westerners cannot totally perceive a tribal culture’s view of the cosmos as a real ‘fact’. However, a fictional re-articulation of historical ‘facts’, using a framework of postmodern neo-historical fiction, allows archival documents to be understood as the traces of women to whom those documented facts once referred. The archival record becomes once again a thing that describes a world of women. It is within these archival micro-histories of illiterate lower-class women that we find shards of our hidden past. By fictionally imagining a possible narrative of their lives we, as the author/reader nexus which creates the image of who these transworld characters were, allow for things that existed in the past as possibility. The fictionalised stories, based on fragments of ‘facts’ from the past, are a way of invoking what could have once existed. In this way the stories partake of the Bernstein and Morson concept of ‘sideshadowing’. Sideshadowing admits, in addition to actualities and impossibilities, a middle realm of real possibilities that could have happened even if they did not. Things could have been different from the way they were, there are real alternatives to the present we know, and the future admits of various possibilities… sideshadowing deepens our sense of the openness of time. It has profound implications for our understanding of history and of our own lives (Morson 6). The possibilities that sideshadowing their lives invokes in these stories ‘alters the way that we think about earlier events and the narrative models used to describe them’ (Morson 7). We alter our view of the women, as initially described in the archival record, because we now perceive the narrative through which these events and therefore ‘lives’ of the women were written, as merely ‘one possibility’ of many that may have occurred. Sideshadowing alternate possibilities gives us a way out of that patriarchal hegemony into a more multi-dimensional and non-linear view of female lives in 19th Century Australia. Sideshadowing allows for the ‘non-closure’ within female narratives that these fragments of women’s lives represent. It is this which is at the core of the novel—an historiographic metafictional challenging by the fictional ‘voices’ of female transworld characters. In this work, they narrate from a female perspective the might-have-been alternative of that previously considered as an historical, legitimate account of the past. Barthes and Bakhtin Readers of this type of historiographic metafiction have the freedom to recreate an historical fictional world. By virtue of the use of self-reflexivity and intertext they participate in a fictional world constructed by themselves from the author(s) of the text(s) and the intertext, and the original women’s voices used as quotations by the intertext’s (male) author. This world is based upon their construction of a past created from the author’s research, the author’s subjectivity (from within and by disciplinary discourse), by the author(s) choice of ‘signifiers’ and the meanings that these choices create within the reader’s subjectivity (itself formed out of their individual cultural and social milieu). This idea echoes Barthes concept of the ‘death of the author’, such that: As soon as a fact is narrated no longer with a view to acting directly on reality but intransitively, that is to say, finally outside of any function other than that of the very practice of the symbol itself; this disconnection occurs, the voice loses its origin, the author enters into his own death, writing begins. (142) When entering into the world created by this style of historical fiction the reader also enters into a world of previous ‘texts’ (or intertexts) and the multitude of voices inherent in them. This is the Bakhtinian concept of heteroglossia, that ‘every utterance contains within it the trace of other utterances, both in the past and in the future’ (263). The narrative formed thus becomes one of multiple ‘truths’ and therefore multiple histories. Once written as ‘bad’, the women are now perceived as ‘good’ characters and the ‘bad’ events that occurred around them and to them make up ‘good’ elements of plot, structure, characterisation and voice for a fictionalised version of a past possibility. Bad women make good reading. Conclusion This type of narrative structure allows for the limits of the silenced ‘voice’ of the past, and therefore an understanding of marginalised groups within hegemonic grand narratives, to be approached. It seems to me no surprise that neo-historical fiction is used more when the subjects written about are members of marginalised groups. Silenced voices need to be heard. Because these women left no written account of their experiences, and because we can never experience the society within which their identities were formed, we will never know their ‘identity’ as they experienced it. Fictional self-narrated stories of transworld characters allows for a transformation of the women away from an identity created by the moralising, stereotyped descriptions in the newspapers towards a more fully developed sense of female identity. Third-hand male accounts written for the (then) newspaper readers consumption (and for us as occupiers of the ‘future’) are a construct of one possible identity only. They do not reflect the women’s reality. Adding another fictional ‘identity’ through an imagined self-narrated account deconstructs that limited ‘identity’ formed through the male ‘gaze’. It does so because of the ability of fiction to allow the reader to create a fictional world which can be experienced imaginatively and from within their own subjectivity. Rather than something passively recorded, literature offers history as a permanent reactivation of the past in a critique of the present, and at the level of content offers a textual anamnesis for the hitherto ignored, unacknowledged or repressed pasts marginalised by the dominant histories. (Middleton and Woods 77) References Bakhtin, Mikhail. The Dialogic Imagination: Four Essays. Trans. Michael Holquist. Ed. Caryl Emerson. Austin: U of Texas P, 1981. Barthes, Roland, and Stephen Heath, eds. Image, Music, Text. New York: Hill and Wang, 1977. Eco, Umberto. The Role of the Reader: Explorations in the Semiotics of Texts. Bloomington and London: Indiana UP, 1979. Holton, Robert. Jarring Witnesses: Modern Fiction and the Representation of History. New York: Harvester Wheatsheaf, 1994. Hutcheon, Linda. A Poetics of Postmodernism: History, Theory, Fiction. New York: Routledge, 1988. McHale, Brian. Postmodernist Fiction. New York and London: Methuen, 1987. Middleton, Peter, and Tim Woods. Literatures of Memory: History, Time and Space in Postwar Writing. Manchester and New York: Manchester UP, 2000. Morson, Gary Saul. Narrative and Freedom: The Shadows of Time. New Haven: Yale UP, 1994. Summers, Anne. Damned Whores and God’s Police. Ringwood Vic: Penguin Books, 1994. Veeser, H. Aram. The New Historicism. London: Routledge, 1989. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Lowes, Elanna Herbert. "Transgressive Women, Transworld Women: The Once ‘Bad’ Can Make ‘Good’ Narratives." M/C Journal 8.1 (2005). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0502/04-herbertlowes.php>. APA Style Lowes, E. (Feb. 2005) "Transgressive Women, Transworld Women: The Once ‘Bad’ Can Make ‘Good’ Narratives," M/C Journal, 8(1). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0502/04-herbertlowes.php>.