Can eating a chocolate bar every day really prevent age-related memory loss? No. But a new research shows that large amounts of flavones, substances found in cocoa, tea and some kinds of vegetables, may improve age-related memory failure.

    Dr. Scott Small is a professor of neurology (神经病学) at Columbia University in new York City. He is the lead writer of a research paper describing the effects of cocoa flavones on brain activity. His study involved 37 volunteers aged between 50 and 69. Researchers gave them a high-level flavones drink made from cocoa beans or a low-level flavones drink. For a period of three months, some subjects got 900 milligrams of flavones a day. The others got 10 milligrams of flavones each day. Brain imaging and memory tests were given to each study subject before and after the study. Dr. Small says that the subjects who had the high-level flavones drink showed much improvement on memory tests.

    The researchers warn that more work is needed to be done because this study was performed only on a small group. Dr. Joann Manson is the lead researcher of a four-year study involving 18,000 adults. This study will use flavones capsules(胶囊). The study subjects will be divided into two groups and will take two pills per day. The capsules used will all look the same. But one group's capsules will contain flavones, while the other group will take capsules made of an inactive substance, or placebo

    Dr. Manson says it's not necessary for people to start eating more chocolate, because a person would have to eat a huge amount of chocolate to get the same level of flavones given to the rest subjects. He adds many manufacturers have planned to remove the flavones from their chocolate products. Similarly, Dr. Manson says a cocoa-based flavones extract(提取)may be developed in the future But he says that more studies are needed to see how much flavones is good for our health.

    Poet William Stafford once said that we are defined more by the detours (绕行路) in life than by the narrow road toward goals. I like this image. But it was quite by accident that I discovered the deep meaning of his words.

For years we made the long drive from our home in Seattle to my parents' home in Boise in nine hours. We traveled the way most people do: the fastest, shortest, easiest road, especially when I was alone with four noisy, restless kids who hate confinement (限制) and have strong opinions about everything.

    Road trips felt risky, so I would drive fast, stopping only when I had to. We would stick to the freeways and arrive tired.

    But then Banner, our lamb was born. He was rejected by his mama days before our planned trip to Boise. I had two choices: leave Banner with my husband, or take him with me. My husband made the decision for me.

    That is how I found myself on the road with four kids, a baby lamb and nothing but my everlasting optimism to see me through. We took the country roads out of necessity. We had to stop every hour, let Banner shake out his legs and feed him. The kids chased him and one another. They'd get back in the car breathless and energized, smelling fresh from the cold air.

    We explored side roads, catching grasshoppers in waist-high grass. Even if we simply looked out of the car windows at baby pigs following their mother, or fish leaping out of the water, it was better than the best ride down the freeway. Here was life. And new horizons (见识).

    We eventually arrived at my parents' doorstep astonishingly fresh and full of stories.

    I grew brave with the trip back home and creative with my disciplining technique. On an empty section of road, everyone started quarreling. I stopped the car, ordered all kids out and told them to meet me up ahead. I parked my car half a mile away and read my book in sweet silence.

    Some road trips are by necessity fast and straight. But that trip with Banner opened our eyes to a world available to anyone adventurous enough to wander around and made me realize that a detour may uncover the best part of a journey—and the best part of yourself.

    As the weather costs you a loss on trains and flights, we look at your rights.

Cancelled trains

    On a single ticket, a passenger will usually receive 25% of the fare if the train is delayed by 15 minutes. If the delay reaches 30 minutes, the compensation（补偿金）rises to 50%, and if it's over an hour you should be able to reclaim the whole cost. Clear arrangements vary according to train operators（运营商）.

    If you were due to travel, to say Aberdeen from London, your train is cancelled and you decide not to travel, you can get a full compensation. If you had a non-cancelable ticket with one operator, and failed to make that train because the connecting train was delayed, you can take the next available train.

Flights

    If your flight is cancelled because of the snow you have the right to s full compensation of the ticket, or to be rerouted home on a later flight.

    But you will have no right to get a delay or cancellation compensation under EU rules, because the snow is an extraordinary circumstance beyond the airline's control. If you don't take the compensation and choose to be rerouted, and it means you are stuck at the airport overnight, it's the airline's duty to pay for a reasonably priced hotel room and meals.

    The airline has to reroute you at the earliest opportunity, or at the passenger's free time, you are supposed to take the availability of seats.

    If you choose to be rerouted or if your departure is delayed by more than two hours, airlines also have to provide assistance such as food. The airlines keep this quiet and getting the money out of the low-cost operators can be a hard job. Keep evidence of cancellations, all receipts, and use your mobile to video any offer to pay by airline staff.

    One silly question I simply can't stand is "How do you feel? Usually the question is asked of a man in action — a man on the go, walking along the street, or busily working at his desk. So what do you expect him to say? He'll probably say, "Fine, I'm all right," but "you've put a bug in his ear" — maybe now he's not sure. If you're a good friend, you may have seen something in his face, or his walk, that he overlooked that morning. It starts him worrying a little. First thing you know, he looks in a mirror to see if everything is all right, while you go merrily on your way asking someone else, "How do you feel?" Every question has its time and place. It's perfectly acceptable, for instance, to ask "How do you feel?" if you're visiting a close friend in the hospital. But if the fellow is walking on both legs, hurrying to catch a train, or sitting at his desk working, it's no time to ask him that silly question. When George Bernard Shaw, the famous writer of plays, was in his eighties, someone asked him, "How do you feel?" Shaw put him in his place. "When you reach my age," Shaw said, "either you feel all right or you're dead."

    Many people criticize today's newspapers as sensationalist, satisfying the public's abnormal curiosity. But journalism a century ago was just as notorious (臭名昭著). Publishers at that time routinely competed with each other for wild stories that could draw in the most readers. Meanwhile, it was an ideal atmosphere for a courageous reporter like Nellie Bly to spring into fame.

    Bly, whose name was Elizabeth Corcoran, had to work to make her way in the world. Different from many women of the time, however, she refused to let the working world scare her away. Her first big opportunity as a reporter came in 1885 after she wrote an angry letter denouncing the Pittsburgh Dispatch for an article it had run criticizing women forced to work outside the home. The interested and excited editor hired Bly for her "spirit," and soon she was investigating the situations of female factory workers. Bly cared less about their jobs than their lives after work  - their amusements, their motivations, their fears and ambitions. She produced an article totally different from what other reporters of the time were writing: personal, thoughtful, meaningful.

    By 1887 Bly had a job with the New York World, one of the leader papers of the day. She quickly became famous for undercover stories about women in a mental hospital. Soon she had investigated life as a maid, a chorus girl, and even a street girl. In her best - known brave deeds, in 1890, Bly beat the famous "around the world in 80 days" trip Jules Verne had described in his novel. Traveling by steamship, train, even ricksha, Bly reported from each stop. A spellbound nation hung on every word. Only 25, Bly had become internationally famous.

    Andrew Ritchie, inventor of the Brompton folding bicycle, once said that perfect portable bike would be "like a magic carpet... You could fold it up and put it into your pocket or handbag". Then he paused: "But you'll always be limited by the size of the wheels. And so far no one has invented a folding wheel."

It was a rare — indeed unique — occasion when I was able to put Ritchie right. A 19th-century inventor, William Henry James Grout, did in fact design a folding wheel. His bike, predictably named the Grout Portable, had a frame that was divided into two and a larger wheel that could be separated into four pieces. All the bits fitted into Grout's Wonderful Bag, a leather case.

    Grout's aim: to solve the problems of carrying a bike on a train. Now doesn't that sound familiar? Grout intended to find a way of making a bike small enough for train travel: his bike was a huge beast. And importantly, the design of early bicycles gave him an advantage: in Grout's day, tyres were solid, which made the business of dividing a wheel into four separate parts relatively simple. You couldn't do the same with a wheel fitted with a one-piece inflated(充气的) tyre.

    So, in a 21st-century environment, is the idea of the folding wheel dead? It is not. A British design engineer, Duncan Fitzsimons , has developed a wheel that can be folded into something like a slender ellipse(椭圆). From beginning to end, the tyre remains inflated.

    Will the young Fitzsimons's folding wheel make it into production? I have no idea. But his inventiveness shows two things. First, people have been saying for more than a century that bike design has reached its limit, except for gradual advances. It's as silly a concept now as it was 100 years ago: there's plenty still to go for. Second, it is in the field of folding bikes that we are seeing the most interesting inventions. You can buy a folding bike for less than £1,000 that can be knocked down so small that can be carried on a plane ——minus wheels, of course ——as hand baggage.

    Folding wheels would make all manner of things possible. Have we yet got the magic carpet of Andrew Ritchie's imagination? No. But it's progress.