If you’ve ever stepped out in what you thought were weather-appropriate clothes, only to find yourself soaked to the skin or sweating buckets, you’re likely very familiar with the feeling of being betrayed by weather apps.
It’s frustrating, especially when your friends tell you that the app that they rely on gave an entirely different forecast for the day. The absurdity! The outrage!
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Thankfully, a team of researchers decided to set the record straight on exactly which app we should be using ahead of stepping outside, so that we can be more suitably prepared.
New research reveals the best weather app
In a move that adds another layer to the treasured British tradition of complaining about the weather, iNews commissioned University of Reading’s Department of Meteorology to identify which were the best sources to check, and the results actually revealed that it can differ, depending on the outlook you’re hoping for.
iNews asked Rosie Mammatt, a weather scientist at the University of Reading, to compare the performance of some of the country’s most popular weather apps.
Over a period of two weeks, Mammatt looked at BBC Weather, the Met Office, Apple Weather, the Weather Channel and AccuWeather over a two-week period.
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Her research found that, as many of us know, forecasts are often wrong and surprisingly, it’s the BBC that often gives the least accurate forecasts on their app.
Mammatt reveaed that BBC Weather is often “too pessimistic” and repeatedly overestimated the amount of rainfall ahead.
So, who can we really rely on, then?
Well, if you’re heading out in the morning, you’re best to check Accuweather. If you’re going out in the afternoon, the Met Office is best.
The best overall forecaster, though, was Weather Channel, which can be relied on for any and all forecasts.
The 20-something man approached my table, the corner of his mouth curving up. He looked away and rubbed his chin before making eye contact and telling me: “I just wanted you to know that if you’d come in sooner, my girlfriend and I would’ve invited you to join us.”
I smiled at him. It was nice of him to want to create community with me, although I was perfectly happy just as I was. But he wasn’t quite finished.
“I feel really bad for you,” he said. “You look so lonely.”
Those four words sat like rocks in my knotted stomach. I’ve heard them often throughout my life.
“Thank you. I’m not lonely. I’m fine,” I replied, a little too defensively.
I looked away. Jerk. Who walks up to someone to point out they look miserable? His words floated in the room like specks of dust catching the light, mocking me as he left hand in hand with his girlfriend.
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Maybe it’s just a checklist inherited from my parents’ “Silent Generation,” but I’ve found that society still measures worth, success and happiness in terms of wedding bands and strollers. I’ve lived much of my adult life believing in those metrics, so choosing to be single has been challenging. It doesn’t just mean dealing with the judgment from others — it also means hearing my inner demons repeat those verdicts: You’re less successful, damaged goods, a failure.
As I sat there alone, I told myself it was this guy’s issue, not mine. But the all-too-familiar whispers were getting louder as I looked around the restaurant, a spot my elderly B&B hosts had recommended, their wrinkled eyes twinkling: “The food is great. You’ll love how intimate it is.”
They were right. I loved the place as soon as I walked through its weathered wooden door. “Table for one,” I said, smiling at the hostess. She smiled back warmly as she welcomed me.
When I sat down, the young man who would eventually approach me was looking directly at me, so I smiled at him before perusing the wine list.
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This was 23 years ago. I’d recently moved to inland California, and had road-tripped to the coast to explore my new state and drive part of the famed Pacific Coast Highway. I’d been excited about this four-day jaunt, but now all I wanted to do was finish my Riesling and fettuccine Alfredo, pack my bags, and retreat to my small, secluded inland town.
I turned down homemade cannoli and walked, head down, back to the Victorian B&B. I stepped quietly past the den where my hosts sat focused on “Antiques Roadshow,” relieved they hadn’t noticed me come in. I took the stairs two at a time and slipped the key in the door to my room as a lump formed in my throat. Then I collapsed on my bed and cried. I’d let the whispers win.
Courtesy of Laura Lee Ellen Johnson
The author in 1964.
I can’t remember a time I didn’t feel different from everyone around me. I am the youngest of four kids, and the only girl. I bought into the Disney fairy tales early on and fully believed that a lifesaving kiss or a perfectly fitting shoe could lead a lonely princess away from evil to happily-ever-after. And yet by seventh grade, I was beginning to realise that this state of wholeness, supposedly only achieved with a mate, might not be right for me.
I recall hanging out one afternoon with my three best friends when a male radio reporter slowly articulated in a low voice: “One in four women will never marry.” A dramatic silence followed, to let the statistic sink in. We all gasped. While my friends discussed how terrifying it would be to lead a barren, lonely life without a husband and children, I secretly knew I would be the one in four.
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Where had that thought come from?
I have always been strong and fiercely independent. My mother used to joke that I came out of her womb telling the doctor to get his hands off me — “I’ll do it myself!” I don’t like to be told what to do, compromise is a concept I rarely entertain, and I’m horrible at asking for and accepting help.
When I was a high school junior, I dated a guy in college. He was my first real boyfriend, and being with an “older man” was a little exciting — until I started feeling suffocated. He wanted more and more of my precious time and attention. He was nice enough, but he always tried to take care of me.
I remember one night when he tried to “teach” me how to bowl, though I already knew how and was pretty good at it. My mom’s advice was: “You just need to play the game a bit more.” (Dating, not bowling.) “You should step back and let boys help you. Don’t come on so strong.” In other words, there is something wrong with a girl who’s too competitive and too autonomous. But how would I ever be truly happy if I wasn’t truly me?
Shortly after I turned 21, I traveled to Hawaii with my parents. We stopped in a gift shop, and as often happened, my mother found something she couldn’t live without. I was one aisle over when I heard her making her case to my dad about why they should buy whatever trinket she was holding. As I eavesdropped, hidden behind a display of swinging hula girl statues, I promised myself I would never allow myself to be in that position. At the time, I thought it was about negotiating with a man for something I wanted, but I’ve come to realize it was about not accepting any limits to what I wanted to have, do, say or be. It was about not being tied down or tethered to anyone.
I dated after college, but constantly found myself worrying that I was misleading men. I didn’t want the all-encompassing together-forever ideal that so many other women did. My relationships often fizzled when I resisted marriage and shared that I didn’t want children. I would welcome romance and intimacy — even today — if it didn’t require sharing space with someone 24/7. That’s been hard to find.
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Courtesy of Laura Lee Ellen Johnson
The author’s senior high school photo in 1982.
People would often come straight out and ask why I never married. In one case, after I was questioned, the entire group quieted, turned to me, and waited for an answer. What did they want to hear? “I’ve spent the last 20 years in prison because a guy in Long Beach said I looked lonely.” Or: “Since graduation, I’ve been cloistered with singing nuns in the Austrian Alps.” Why do people feel justified in asking for an explanation? I often fumbled and mumbled and shrank. I would allow people to make me feel bad about myself. Their questions created doubt, a second-guessing. They unleashed a long-programmed fear that society was right and my life was less fulfilling, less fully realized and less complete without a romantic partner.
People have suggested I am emotionally stunted for not being married — that I’ve missed out on the benefits of romantic partnerships, like negotiating, pooling resources and sharing essential decisions. But how does that make someone more mature? More socially acceptable, maybe. But whole, authentic, rounded, complete? I’m not convinced.
I have faced similar opportunities and challenges as everyone else, and done everything on my own. I’ve moved across the country. I’ve managed rent and home ownership, car payments, sewage backups and travel. I love jumping in my car, exploring towns, visiting museums and attending concerts — and no one ever throws a wrench in my plans. I don’t avoid doing things with others; I love spending time with my friends and family. But I don’t let not having a romantic partner stop me from enjoying my life to the fullest. Nothing stops me from following my heart.
I do get lonely — of course. There are times when I feel overwhelmed and wish I had someone to help me with my burdens, perhaps even take care of me. Usually these feelings surface when I am faced with a challenge, but they pass when I figure out how to solve my problem. I have always had the ability to see beyond obstacles, and when things go wrong, it’s almost never for long. And I’m not alone. I have people in my life I can turn to for love and support. When I remind myself of that, I get through the loneliness and get back on my feet. I also know that having a partner is not a guarantee that you won’t experience loneliness. Plenty of people in relationships feel lonely.
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I have finally learned to celebrate the peace, quiet and freedom to explore the world on my terms. I’d love to say this was a dramatic, once-and-for-all decision early in my life, but the truth is far more complex. It’s been a journey of constant, deliberate choices, each one a battle between the safety of conformity and the risk of missing out on who I was truly meant to be. And this journey has brought me to an important realisation: It’s not “me versus them.” It’s “me versus me.” It’s fighting the urge to let external judgments define me.
Courtesy of Laura Lee Ellen Johnson
The author kayaking in Nova Scotia, Canada, in 2023.
In my 40s, I started to follow a more spiritual path and truly began to believe that we are all where we are meant to be. In my late 50s, I took a life-changing writing class focused on finding my authentic voice. I wrote more about my life and my experiences. I began to feel better about what I was adding to the world, and how I was helping others discover who they were through my work. I surrounded myself with people who were accepting and supportive of who I am.
Turning 60 was magical. I now accept that I am who I am, and I am OK with wanting what I want — or don’t want. I make conscious decisions not to internalise others’ judgments, and I forgive myself for having allowed their opinions to affect me in the past. Ultimately, it’s a personal belief system that has little to do with anyone else, and everything to do with self-acceptance in the face of all the noise.
When I walk with that certainty, I look for different reactions in people, and I no longer “invite” someone to point out my aloneness. Mindset makes a huge difference, and age, for me, has allowed for much less concern about what others think and do.
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Along the way, I have noticed we aren’t all that different. We travel, discover, learn, develop, love, connect and contribute — each adding our own unique twists.
On a recent solo road trip through Canada, I enjoyed two weeks of poutine, grilled cheese dipped in tomato soup, conversations with locals and other travellers, and people-watching. I never once felt out of place. Instead, I confidently announced “Table for one,” and embraced the me who dares to defy my former demons and society’s expectations.
Laura Lee Ellen Johnson is a writer and personal branding strategist based in Detroit. She writes for the career industry, as well as about living single, childfree and beyond society’s limits — at any age. She publishes a weekly Substack called “Fearless Authenticity,” and is completing her first historic fiction novel.
I’ll put my hands up ― I straight-up didn’t believe the TikTok trend that saw cats come to their owner’s side as if a dog had been called by name, thanks to two short sounds.
″‘Mah-AH’… means, come here [in cat],” a vet shared on the app. Video after video of cat owners using the trick to summon their furry friends played in quick succession, but I wondered whether it was all just hype.
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So, I reached out to three cat experts ― vet Dr Liza Cahn, a consultant for Embrace Pet Insurance, Mieshelle Nagelschneider, cat behaviour specialist and owner of The Cat Behaviour Clinic, and veterinarian expert Dr Dwight Alleyne ― about the trend.
And?
“Many of our cat clients have tried ‘Ma-AH’ with their cats and have had immediate results,” Nagelschneider told HuffPost UK.
“Even with our own cats, we can call them over and over again with ‘come here’ with no response and then with ‘ma-AH,’ it definitely gets their attention.”
Dr Alleyne, however, says “The effectiveness of this will depend on multiple factors.”
Cats may simply find the sound novel and appealing, he told HuffPost UK, and “the owner may have unknowingly conditioned their cat to the sound through a positive interaction.”
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Dr Cahn agrees, sharing that “If your cat comes, they are most likely responding to your tone of voice and body language. This response will also be reinforced if they receive praise or treats.”
All three experts agreed that “mah-AH” could well work to get cats to come closer to you ― but the two vets weren’t convinced the tones had anything intrinsically appealing to the pets.
In other words, “mah-AH” will probably work depending on your cat’s temperament ― but it’s not quite the same as saying “come here” in cat.
So… what is?
Even Nagelschneider, who seemed most convinced by “mah-AH,” said there are other sounds ― like a kitten’s “mew-mew-mew” ― which will elicit a similar response.
Dr Alleyne told HuffPost UK that a lot of combinations of soothing sounds and cupboard love will get your cat to heel ― “Other methods that may work better include the actual calling of the cat’s name, using treats or clickers, or using a high pitched sound or tone to get them to come,” he wrote.
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Dr Cahn says that despite what you might have heard, training cats isn’t as tough as you’d think.
“To train your cat to come when called, first, choose a cue word (such as “come” or “here”) and a high-value reward like a tasty treat or favourite toy,” she told HuffPost UK.
“You can either wait until your cat naturally approaches you, or get them to head your way by luring them with the treat or toy. Use the cue word just as they arrive, and immediately give them their reward.”
Over time you can increase the distance ― over time, your cat will learn to associate the reward with responding to your call.
So, “mah-AH” may not be a magic word; but positive reinforcement, high-pitched sounds, and new experiences are a pretty great way to train your cat regardless.
In that sense, the trick is likely to work at least some of the time.
Reddit’s a goldmine for recipes, not least because you don’t have to go through a long pre-recipe story about the writer’s childhood collecting apples from their family tree.
This week’s bake de jour is an American-style apple pie shared to r/Baking, however.
Redditor Good-Ad-5320 shared that they’d made a “massive apple pie,” adding that the US-style dessert is “bliss.”
Looking at their creation, which is truly the Platonic ideal of an apple pie, it’s impossible not to understand why commenters were baying for the recipe.
“After lining the ring with the crust, I froze it completely before blind baking,” they explained.
After the blind bake, they sprinkled the inside of their pastry shell with egg whites and a “1:1 ratio flour/sugar,” which they called “crust dust.”
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As for the apple insides, they took it a step further than I usually do by forming a sort of caramel in a separate pan to the chopped and peeled apples.
“I sprinkled the peeled and sliced apples with lemon juice and white sugar to get some water out of it (I let them aside for 1 hour),” OP wrote.
“After I put the apples in a colander to remove the excess water, I precooked the apples and put them again in the colander to remove even more water.”
They doubled up their regular recipe and used:
Apples: 16
White sugar (for the apples): 100g
White sugar: 100g
Packed brown sugar: 200g
Water: 120g
Vanilla beans, scraped: 4
Flour: 46g
Salted butter: 230g
However, this was for their frankly colossal pie. “For a regular tart, I think 7-8 apples are sufficient,” OP added. You can halve the rest of their recipe too.
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To create the apple filling, they suggest we “combine [all sauce ingredients] in a saucepan, heat until [the sugar melts], [and] make it boil a bit until it thickens before mixing it with the precooked apples.”
They then baked the pie until golden brown.
“To get clean cuts, I let the tart cool down for approx 6 hours outside (it was around 10°C),” they ended their post.
People were pretty huge fans
“I’ve never considered a deep-dish apple pie! How cool is that,” a top comment underneath the post reads.
Another commenter suggested the poster might have gone bankrupt buying all those apples, to which they responded: “Actually half of the apples were from my brother’s garden, and the other half cost me around €2 (they were ‘Golden’ apples).”
Living alone when you’re my age requires lying. There’s no way around it. It isn’t that I mean to lie; it’s that I want to avoid the conversation that will immediately ensue if I don’t.
My adult daughters — the people who monitor my 86-year-old life — need to feel reassured that I’m eating healthy, exercising and sleeping enough, and being engaged. Engaging means different things to them than to my aging friends, and they are the ones to whom I must answer. Consequently, all these expectations require more and more lying, my form of which is most often that of smiling indirection.
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I assure my daughters I eat vast quantities of fruits, vegetables, salmon and chicken. There is rarely any mention of my consumption of popcorn, rum raisin ice cream or pistachios. When we’re having a meal together, I am careful to order a big slab of protein surrounded by leafy green leaves. I demur when offered crackers and cheese and murmur daintily with a downcast expression, “dairy.” Until they read this, I’ll continue to feel confident I’ve gotten away with those lies.
There are days I don’t want to eat my meals in the prescribed order. What if I want something other than cereal, eggs or toast for breakfast, like leftover Chinese takeout? Well, then, that’s what I do. Sometimes, my disorderly eating leads to the need for Alka-Seltzer, but I keep a supply on hand for such occasions. Do I think my daughters check to see what’s in my medicine cabinet? I’m not sure, probably not. But just in case, I keep the Alka-Seltzer tucked away out of sight. I want to avoid answering questions about why I need it.
I also lie — not only by indirection but also by omission — about the frequency of my accidents. They include tripping over, stumbling into, brushing against, and, worst of all, falling all the way down.
I try not to bump into anything, but I fail — repeatedly. Even when I rush to the freezer to urgently press an ice cube onto the spot, an enormous purple bruise blossoms under it.
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Slamming into things has also led to many skin tears. Blood requires covering, which results in my arms being festooned with bandages. I have to try to get them on with one hand while holding a cloth over the wound with the other, often ending up with a wastepaper basket filled with false starts and discarded adhesives. My medicine chest currently has a larger supply of bandages of every size and shape, multiple forms of gauze and tape, and tubes of healing ointments than I ever needed when my children were little.
When I go out, I’m met with concerned gazes and the question, “Are you OK?” I smile nonchalantly and joke, “You should see the other guy.” Their amused response allows me to circumvent whatever concrete lie I would have to create to explain my multicoloured, multitextured arms. I have even considered getting those arm sleeves that are intended for gardeners to avoid being cut up by branches or thorns but are now used as accessories. They’re available in a wide range of styles and designs. Some with tattoos might be fun. I could lie and pretend I’m making a fashion statement while covering my ongoing cascade of wounds.
There are also the moments when the urgent task of keeping my balance eludes me entirely, and I fall all the way down. This is most often the result of me trying to multitask.
My most recent fall was in my apartment building’s parking lot. I was getting out of the car, wheeling my grocery cart with one hand and reaching back to close the car door with the other — a recipe for disaster. I went down onto the concrete, the cart rolling to a stop three feet ahead of me against the bumper of a nearby parked car. My first impulse was to look around — not for help, which would have been the wise thing to do — but to see if anyone saw me fall. I was alone, which allowed me to turn over onto my hands and knees, the way I get up from the ground these days.
The only person (or thing, rather) who knows I fell is my Apple Watch, which dutifully flashed, “I see you fell. Do you need help? Should I call 911?” when it happened. I pressed back “I’m fine,” essentially lying in the language Apple’s engineers have programmed as a response. I hobbled upstairs, hurriedly put the food away, laid down and went to sleep. I have concluded that I’m handling the situation maturely. I’m uncertain if not telling my children that I fell down constitutes withholding necessary information — yet another permutation of lying — but I suspect it does. Why is it anyone’s business? They’ll just worry and offer advice that I already know. Be careful. Only do one thing at a time. Move slowly. Use arnica.
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There are more things that I lie about. Well, not exactly lying. I just never mention them — like losing and forgetting items and words, for instance.
I’m a very tidy woman, and order comforts me. Everything in my home has a clear and obvious spot, so it’s easy to find something when I need it. But even in my carefully put-together home, I lose things. Eventually, they turn up in a pants pocket, at the bottom of a bag or stuck between a pile of papers on my desk. But how that came to be their momentary resting place is never clear.
I lose things outside my house as well. In public bathrooms, I sometimes take the opportunity to check my messages, then carefully balance the phone on the toilet paper dispenser — and leave it there. This has happened five times, and with each one, the kindness of strangers has reunited me with my phone. I’m hoping my luck holds out.
After the inevitable conclusion of my much-too-young marriage, I lost my house keys four times in one week. Sometimes, there is meaning in losing. Not anymore. There are no metaphors to explore here.
At 86, of course I also forget words; I even lose entire trains of thought. But I remember enough to keep myself interested and do my best to decide that whatever I forgot wasn’t essential or that the thought will eventually return. But when it does, it’s often in the midst of something else where it doesn’t fit, and I don’t understand why I’m remembering whatever it is.
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Sometimes, when I lose words, I find others to substitute. Recently, when reaching for the phrase “Secret Service,” I said instead, “Social Security.” My friend looked puzzled by my introduction of this unexpected phrase into our conversation, and I hurriedly switched what I had meant to say.
There has been a new development in my living alone that helps with this and feels comforting, though — talking out loud to myself. It isn’t that I want another person’s voice in my apartment. I just want a voice, and mine does just fine. “I think I’ll watch ‘Hacks’,” I say brightly — and I do just that, getting up from my desk and walking into my living room. It’s a little like having nondemanding company; I enjoy talking to myself and continue to find myself sprightly. However, I’m careful not to do this when my daughters are around because the possibility of seeing their mother speak to nothing but the air in front of her would alarm them.
My social life being filled with old women (and a sprinkling of old men) is also helpful. When I forget something, I just say, “I forgot,” and they understand. Maybe if I had more younger people in my life, I would have to navigate my embarrassment and their impatience with a lie (followed by my annoyance at my embarrassment and their impatience). But I don’t have to do that with my friends. We’re all in the same boat.
Behind my agreeable face is an old woman holding fiercely to her wavering autonomy. I wonder if the middle-aged children of aging parents yield to parental obfuscations and equivocations — the little lies we tell — because they may not really want to know about the forgetting, falling, creative eating, losing, bumping into sharp objects, and talking to ourselves that define our realities. Would my daughters really want to know what goes on when they aren’t around — the challenges I face every day and all that I go through to be able to live my life the way I want to live it? Do they — and others like them — worry that the more they know, the more they may have to step toward us and our increasingly precarious hold on independence and eventually fold us into their lives? Our lying is buying us time — a precious and limited commodity that we want as our own. And I’ll continue to lie as long as I can get away with it.
Sandra Butler is the author of five books, each designed to identify something unspoken in women’s lives. “Conspiracy of Silence; The Trauma of Incest” brought attention to the sexual violation of girls; “Cancer in Two Voices” frankly explored how a lesbian couple navigates the death of a partner; and “It Never Ends: Mothering Middle-Aged Daughters” described the intersection of aging and mothering, while challenging the myths around both. In “The Kitchen is Closed And Other Benefits of Being Old,” Butler chronicled her experience moving from aging all the way to old, and with the recent publication of “Leaving Home at 83,” she is now proudly standing alongside and grateful for the generations of women putting their younger, non-arthritic shoulders to the wheel as they work to create the world we need to flourish. She is currently working on her next book, delighting in the richness of her life in Tucson, Arizona, and hoping not to fall. Her website, sandrabutler.net, reflects the books, articles and concerns of the past 50 years.
During their seasonal slumber, the animals rely on fat stores accumulated over the summer to survive, making this a crucial period for their diet.
To keep the creatures fed, many of us might start thinking about leaving food out for them in our gardens (though it’s also helpful to keep late-blooming plants like some ivy untrimmed and avoid raking leaves, so they have a store of bugs to eat).
But according to hedgehog rescue centre Hedgehog Cabin and The Wildlife Trusts, what would seem like the safest alternative ― specially-designed hedgehog food ― can often pose its own threats.
Why would food designed for hedgehogs be bad for them?
The Wildlife Trust points out that unlike cat food (which actually suits hedgehogs just fine), hedgehog food is not regulated.
Therefore its quality and ingredients vary.
“There are many unscrupulous companies keen to cash in on the growing army of kind people trying to halt the hedgehog’s decline, and will happily sell little more than floor sweeping of the cheapest, most unsuitable products, all wrapped up with a nice picture of a cute hedgehog, at the highest possible price,” Hedgehog Cabin warns.
They explain that some hedgehog feed includes mealworms, peanuts, oats, sunflower hearts and other ingredients that the creatures might like eating, but which are bad for them overall.
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Mealworms, for example, are low in calories but delicious to hedgehogs, meaning they overeat on the food and ignore more nutrient-dense fare (a bit like ducks with bread).
Eating too many mealworms can even lead to metabolic bone disease, a painful condition that can unfortunately be fatal to hedgehogs.
What should I feed them instead?
You can get good hedgehog feed from reliable sources, but it’s important you ensure that its main ingredient is meat, and that it contains zero sunflower hearts, mealworms, oats or peanuts.
These are the worst ingredients they could have, Hedgehog Cabin write, as they can all contribute to metabolic bone disease.
But there’s a simpler solution ― “plain kitten biscuits or meat-based wet dog or cat food” are perfect for their nutritional needs, The Wildlife Trusts say.
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As cat food is more meat-heavy, though, it may sometimes do a better job. Don’t feed them dry dog food, either, which may contain too much grain.
Is there anything more enticing than a haunted house?
Yes, we should all know better after many, manyhorror films have been set in them, but there’s just something so alluring about sharing a house with spirits that have long-since left the mortal realm.
If you’re with me here and you enjoy this mythology, you may be disappointed by what I’m about to reveal.
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You see, the thing is, most of the features of “haunted” houses can unfortunately be explained away by science.
The science behind haunted houses
Writing for BBC Science Focus, Dr Alistair Gun, a radio astronomer reveals: “The vast majority of paranormal investigations have been of the pseudoscientific variety – based on incorrect, incomplete or misrepresented science, or invalid due to bias, manipulation, assumption or omission.”
He goes on to explain: “It’s an unscientific leap of faith to believe in alien visitation based solely on unexplained sightings.
“The same is true for the belief in ghosts; there’s no scientific rationale for it. Science does offer some potential explanations for hauntings. Most are environmental or psychological in nature.”
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Unfortunately, our whimsy can’t outweigh science.
In fact, the explanation is likely something very normal, according to Gun. Sleep paralysis, sleep deprivation and stress can all play into experiencing hallucinations and visual disturbances.
Additionally, “haunted” houses are more likely to have mould and some variations of mould can lead to hallucinations.
So, if you think your home is haunted, you may want to check for it.
Why do we enjoy being scared?
Why is this disappointing news, though? Why are we so drawn to being scared in a controlled setting like a haunted house or even just watching a scary film? Are we okay?
The British Psychological Society says: “There is a neuropsychological reason – we get an adrenalin rush when something spooks us or something scary happens which releases endorphins and dopamine, so put simply, there is a chemical process that creates a similar sense of euphoria.
“Some say that having a ‘scary ghost experience’ is like being on a rollercoaster, we are hijacking the natural flight response and enjoying it.”
In a statement shared with HuffPost UK, the UKHSA says: “Since the start of the 2024/2025 season, the number of norovirus outbreaks reported in hospital settings was 10% higher than the five-season average.”
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While the agency assures that there is no indication that this leads to more severe illness, it’s essential that you take the steps to prevent and treat norovirus, should you come into contact with it.
Amy Douglas, epidemiologist at UKHSA says: “The half-term school break is likely to have interrupted the upward trend we’ve been seeing recently in norovirus levels, but cases are likely to rise again as we head towards Christmas.
“To help reduce the spread of norovirus you can take steps to avoid passing the infection on. If you have diarrhoea and vomiting, do not return to work, school or nursery until 48 hours after your symptoms have stopped and don’t prepare food for others in that time either. If you are unwell, avoid visiting people in hospitals and care homes to prevent passing on the infection in these settings.”
Douglas adds that washing your hands with soap and warm water, as well as using bleach-based products to clean surfaces will also stop infections from spreading.
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She also says: “Alcohol gels do not kill norovirus so don’t rely on these alone.”
Many people have associated norovirus with Kawasaki Disease, Douglas urges: “It isn’t accurate to refer to [this norovirus strain] as ‘Kawasaki’ and this term is causing confusion with Kawasaki Disease, which is an unrelated disease.”
Symptoms of norovirus
Symptoms often include nausea, vomiting and diarrhoea.
However, some patients also report a high temperature, abdominal pain and aching limbs.
Norovirus infections can cause dehydration, especially in vulnerable groups such as young children and older or immunocompromised people, so if you do get ill it is important to drink plenty of fluids during that time.
The NHS advises that you should call 999 or go to A&E if you experience any of the following:
vomiting blood or vomit that looks like ground coffee
green vomit (adults)
yellow-green or green vomit (children)
thinking you may have swallowed something poisonous
a stiff neck and pain when looking at bright lights
Fortune magazine claims that’s because youths aren’t up to the task; they don’t dress appropriately, set reasonable expectations, show up on time, show enough initiative, or kick off their careers with a can-do attitude, the publication reckons.
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The message is repeated across multiple media outlets; young people can’t get, or keep, jobs, and they’re all to blame, we’re told.
So I’ll admit I was relieved to speak to the founder of the London Interdisciplinary School, Ed Fidoe, who said the generation’s workplace woes are “not remotely Gen Z’s fault.”
So what’s going on?
There are a “couple of forces” to consider, the founder told HuffPost UK.
Many organisations aren’t hiring right now, and those that are feel that they can “trim their graduate intake” ― even though they “regret it, sort of four years, five years later,” he said.
Then, there’s “a structural problem, a structural challenge, which is… Gen AI, and the impact it has on graduate jobs,” he added.
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Ed shared that “something like 80% [of students] get a 2:1 or a first from Russell Group universities” (it was 87.7% in 2022), meaning internships are crucial if you want to stand out from the crowd.
But the sort of “low-level” research jobs typically given to some interns “could be done very, very easily by the technology that exists.”
“We help broker our students to get internships every year, and… each year, it’s become quite a lot harder to place them,” the founder revealed.
Even where Ed does see some cultural misalignments between young people and the workforce, he still doesn’t think it’s helpful to blame Gen Z.
Though the founder says more and more young people are not given enough “challenges” on things as basic as handing coursework in on time, he states that universities’ failure to prepare students for “the real world” is partly down to an increasingly customer-provider relationship increasingly dear uni fees may encourage.
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University courses themselves are rigid too, he pointed out ― “it’s built in that there’s no change in the university sector. And then we send people out into the most volatile work market that we’ve seen in probably 50 years.”
Especially post-pandemic, Ed continued, “if we see lots of layoffs, it’s not actually because it’s Gen Z being lazy. It’s just… that’s just what happened.”
So what can Gen Z, unis, or employers do to make the situation better?
Though he doesn’t think Gen Z are entirely culpable for their lot, Ed does think that universities could do a better job of setting fair expectations for students.
He calls unis “a wonderful place to be able to provide lots of support, but [also] lots of challenges,” exposing young people to “new environments and new ideas and new thinking.
“And… if universities are backing away from that, then again, my generation is doing that generation a disservice, because what it means is they are optimising for their own ease… because people are worried about being sued. But as soon as those students leave, they’re going to enter a workplace, and the workplace is on the whole not going to be conforming to that,” Ed explained.
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He adds that in the London Interdisciplinary School, “we want people to have difficult conversations. What we don’t want is people to avoid them.”
But Ed says employers themselves often have a skewed view of what their youngest workers can offer.
Far from being underqualified, he says, some Gen Z may find themselves bored by the realities of work ― a phenomenon that may be exacerbated by employer’s perceptions of young people.
“We hear lots about employers saying that graduates don’t have any of the skills they need for the workplace…pick a list; problem-solving, initiative, communication, teamwork, all the stuff, and they’re deeply ill-prepared,” he says.
He adds: “The thing that’s not talked about very much is that graduates, particularly from… often very intellectually challenging degrees, go into work and go, this is really boring.”
He advises employers to “think a bit harder… about what your students are actually capable of because they are highly capable.”
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“Think a bit harder about what they could be really outstanding at,” Ed says.
“There will be some things they can be better at than you are currently, and not just technology, right? Which is the sort of lazy perspective.”
There really might be some truth to the expression “New hair, new you.” Search “hair theory” on TikTok, and you’ll find hundreds of videos of users transforming their whole vibe by simply changing how they style their hair:
One minute, they’re a business professional with a tightly pulled-back bun. The next, they’re an easygoing flower child with loose, bouncy curls, then a fun, edgy rocker chick with a flip of the hair. Even subtle changes like the positioning of someone’s part can completely transform how they are perceived.
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But how you style your hair can also dramatically alter how people perceive another thing about you — your age.
A refreshed hairstyle instantly transforms the Golden Girls from America’s favorite retirees into contenders for a “Sex and the City” reboot. Likewise, short, stiff styles can make actors like Jennifer Aniston and Julia Roberts look like they’re ready to embark on their fifth Viking River Cruise.
Often, people trying to shave a few years off their appearance might focus on staying on top of the latest makeup and clothing trends. But changing your hairstyle could be the missing piece of the puzzle to look decades younger.
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“It’s always the hair!” said Nicky Clarke, a hairstylist who was honored with the Officer of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire in 2008 for his contributions to the British hairdressing industry.
“You can change your clothes, you change your makeup… but it’s always the hair. You can instantly make somebody look younger or older [with their hair],” said Clarke.
Jalia Pettis, a Phoenix-based hairstylist, has also seen the transformative nature of hairstyles firsthand.
“A hairstyle can change your whole vibe. I’ve seen it happen countless times as a session stylist who works on set,” Pettis said.
If you’re ready to undergo your hairstyle transformation (and maybe wind back the clock on your appearance a few years), these are the key areas our experts say to focus on.
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Color
Unsurprisingly, gray hair is one of the most obvious hints of aging, and many women visit their local salon for regular color touch-ups.
However, our experts stress that the key to looking younger isn’t just about covering up the grays. It’s essential to pick the right color.
“When a hair color is too flat or doesn’t complement the skin tone, it can make fine lines or dullness more noticeable, which can unintentionally age you,” Pettis said.
Rather than a flat color, try adding highlights or lowlights to keep your style looking youthful and fresh, recommends Joseph Maine, celebrity hairstylist and co-founder of Trademark Beauty.
Jordan Strauss via Associated Press
Mary Steenburgen at age 71 in March 2024.
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“Adding warm tones to your hair can really brighten up your complexion and bring a more youthful glow to aging skin by giving it that extra bit of warmth and color,” Maine said.
According to Clarke, the key to appearing more youthful is creating softness. Clarke recommends a slightly softer color around the face to create a smoother, more youthful look.
“If you’re a blonde, having those slightly lighter pieces within your honey tones tends to make things pop. If you’re a brunette, you can have those slightly dark honey tones around the face,” Clarke said.
Evan Agostini via Associated Press
Halle Berry at age 58 on Sept. 16, 2024
But if you’re done with the constant upkeep of maintaining colored hair, you can still rock your silver locks while keeping your look fresh. A salt-and-pepper mix tends to age people, according to Clarke, but pure colors tend to be more flattering.
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“We can see women who have got that wonderful Silver Fox thing going on,” Clarke said. “And that works because it’s almost not gray; it’s a pure color, whether it be a silver gray or a white.”
Scott A Garfitt via Associated Press
Andie MacDowell at age 66 on May 24, 2024.
Texture
When you look at pictures of yourself in your 20s, you might notice something different about your hair that you can’t quite put your finger on. The cut and color are the same, so why does your hair look so different now?
“As we age, the texture and density of our hair changes,” Pettis said. “But there are things you can do to keep it healthy and looking youthful. It’s all about moisture, protection, and retention.”
Evan Agostini via Associated Press
Salma Hayek at age 58 on Oct. 29, 2024.
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To keep your hair in tip-top shape, Pettis recommends investing in deep conditioning products and products that strengthen your hair.
Ingredients like keratin, collagen and hydrating oils can also help maintain your hair’s youthful shine and elasticity, Maine said.
Our expert stylists also stress that as you age, protecting your delicate strands becomes even more important, particularly when styling your hair. Opt for low-heat styling options or use heat-protectant products to protect your locks and prevent breakage.
Cut and style
With trends constantly shifting and changing, the hottest hairstyles of the past can now instantly reveal your age. Even millennials have had to face the music as their beloved side parts were declared “old” by Gen Z.
If you can’t seem to embrace the Gen Z middle part, fret not. When choosing a new, fresh look, our stylists encourage picking styles that flatter your unique features, rather than pursuing whatever is currently trendy.
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“It’s all about keeping things soft and touchable to avoid anything that feels too rigid or stuck in time,” Maine said. “Personally, I think it’s important to pay attention to your features, texture, and lifestyle when choosing an appropriate style more so than age.”
Short hair
Due to its easier upkeep, many older women tend to adopt shorter hair, causing some people to associate shorter locks with maturity. But according to our experts, that doesn’t mean a shorter style will necessarily age you.
“There are times when shorter hair works much better than longer hair because you can make short hair with a kind of a sporty feel to it,” Clarke said.
Evan Agostini via Associated Press
Jamie Lee Curtis at age 65 on Sept. 6, 2024.
“A short pixie cut can lift the face and emphasize cheekbones,” Maine said. “Long hair can sometimes drag the face down.”
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If you go for the big chop, our experts recommend that you avoid overly structured styles (like the infamous “Karen” haircut) and stick to softer, looser styles.
“I always say that to create a younger look, the objective is to try and get hair that has movement in it,” Clarke said.
Long hair
While longer hair tends to be associated with youth, Maine cautions that as your hair ages and its color and texture change, longer hair can potentially make you look older.
“Very often, long hair is dragging you down if it’s not cut and styled right,” Clarke said.
That said, it doesn’t mean long hair is completely out of the cards for you in your golden years.
“If someone has a silky hair texture or can rock a voluminous blowout to balance out their proportions, longer hair can absolutely work!” Maine said. “This is why it’s so important to consider all factors instead of just saying ‘older women should avoid short hair if they want to look youthful.’”
Charles Sykes via Associated Press
Sarah Jessica Parker at age 59 on Oct. 9, 2024.
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For longer hairstyles, Maine recommends soft layers around the face to create shape and make your hair look touchable.
Not ready to let go of the old ’do?
Even if you feel like it’s time for a change, struggling with letting go of your old hairstyle is not unusual. When changing your style, our experts recommend going at your own pace to find a look you absolutely love.
“My advice to anyone looking to step outside their comfort zone is to trust your gut,” Pettis said. “The moment you start second-guessing and letting other people’s opinions sway you, that’s when you step into dangerous territory.”
Fortunately, with a smartphone and a selfie, you see whether a new style works for you without ever setting foot in a salon.
“Using technology is a fantastic way to try out a new hairstyle before fully committing,” Maine said. “There are tons of apps that let you see different cuts and colors on your face, making it easy to quickly figure out if a style might suit you.”
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And once you get your hair cut, bear in mind that it may take time to adjust to your new look — and that’s OK.
“No matter your age, it can be tough to see yourself differently, especially if you’ve had the same look for a while,” Maine said. “Hair frames your face and is closely tied to your identity, so it’s completely normal to need an adjustment period when making a big change.”
