Valentine's Day sucks. Which may sound odd coming from someone who ceaselessly praises love and sex, but it is true. I am not a fan. My mother and father were married in a small Baptist Church on Valentine's Day in 1959. They are no longer together. They are still technically married but my father now lives in a residential care home for dementia patients and my mother lives alone. My father's disease makes him angry and aggressive leaving my mother with blurred and fading memories of his kindness. It is a sad day for all those whose partners are transformed into strangers by illnesses. Some things aren't fair. It is my step(ish) daughter's birthday on Valentine's Day (I am not married to my boyfriend so I can't claim to be a step-mum and there is no other term for it). The end of my boyfriend's marriage has put continents between him and his children. When he hangs up the phone after talking to his daughter, his eyes are dark with pain. It is a sad day for all those whose love is diluted by oceans. Some things can't be changed. I remember the last Valentine's Day I spent with my ex-husband. I was a couple of weeks away from moving out but I hadn't told him yet. I felt sick and scared and heartbroken. My husband and I passed the entire day without speaking. As I stood on the edge of the cliff summoning up the courage to jump, I felt entirely alone. It is a sad day for all those whose love has withered away. Some things can't be fixed. I want to believe that "love is all you need" because it feels as though it could almost be true, but then I remember, on days like this, that for as many hearts that sing, there are equally as many that struggle to beat. Question: When did the author leave her husband? Options: - Last Valentine's day - Near the beginning of March - Valentine's day 1959 - not enough information === The correct answer is
Near the beginning of March

Staying in our apartment on the North Shore of Vancouver, we were tucked into a sleepy, suburban idyll where once off the busy highway, kids played ball games in the street and cats strolled around their own home territories without a care in the world. It is also home to the famous Capilano Suspension Bridge, but warned that the crowds in mid-August would be overwhelming, we were given the tipoff that the Lynn Canyon Suspension Bridge and the surrounding park is a lovely place to while away an afternoon. Smaller, free and with loads of walks and picnic areas, I sent my intrepid husband ahead to brave the canyon bridge whilst I sipped a much-needed coffee in the local cafe. It was beautiful. It's mostly because the thought of hopping onto a swaying bridge above the ravine gives me the heebie-jeebies, whereas he will stride across panels of transparent glass suspended metres above busy streets (like Tower Bridge) or gondola rides that skim well above the treetops (like Japan lake or the Bavarian Alpine range.) Watching the shower of golden pine needles drift down from the redwoods whilst I typed out a blog post, I enjoyed seeing squirrels scamper and birds twitter their way around the boughs and branches. That blur below? A local black squirrel who was foraging amongst the cooing tourists for snacks About 20 minutes later his grinning face floated back into view, and he brandished his phone with images of his quick wander through the trails. Lynn Canyon Park officially opened to the public in 1912; there are several trails throughout the park to choose from for a leisurely hike including the popular Baden Powell Trail and there are also many breathtaking waterfalls and popular swimming holes which are perfect during the summer months. Lynn Canyon Park covers 617 acres today and comprises of second growth forest with most of the trees aged approximately 80 to 100 years old. Question: How does the narrator and her husband probably feel about living in Vancouver? Options: - not enough information - They wished they could afford to live more in the city - They don't like how busy and loud their neighborhood is - They enjoy living in their suburb quite a lot === The correct answer is
They enjoy living in their suburb quite a lot

What would you do you're driving past hundreds of citrus trees. With a better look, they're mandarins, or, more precisely clementines. On the roadside is a truck selling crates of them for 1 euro a kilo. You stop, right? And buy a crate of 10 kilos. Even though you have to get on a plane the next day. I couldn't help myself. Marco, who I had already made turn 180 degrees to drive back to the truck, gave me that look of disapproval when I want to do something totally unreasonable like impulse buy citrus fruit that we can't keep. "What are we going to do with these?" He questioned. I wasn't sure. I wanted to taste them, I wanted to photograph them. And maybe I could even squeeze some of them into our tiny bag to take home. "It won't be a waste, I'll give the rest away!" I reasoned. He just shook his head, giving in. I bought them, a big grin on my face. We were just outside the port city of Taranto, on the western coast of Puglia in Italy's deep south, where we spent a long weekend recently and where clementines have special IGP (Protected Geographical Indication) status. These clementines a hybrid of oranges and mandarins grow in the fertile soil around the gulf of Taranto, particularly around the town of Palagiano (also known as "the city of clementines" they celebrate the symbol of their city with a sagra, a food festival, every December) and the delicate fruit is harvested by hand. We don't get these in Florence, it was my only chance to taste them they are small with very few, if any, seeds, and they are very sweet. Question: Who disapproved of buying the oranges? Options: - The seller - Marco - The narrator - not enough information === The correct answer is
Marco