Nervous suspects locked up in Britain's newest police station may feel relieved by a pleasant yellow color on the door . If they are close to confessing（供认）a crime , the blue on the wall might tip the balance .

    Gwent Police have abandoned colors such as greys and browns of the 20th-century police cell（牢房）and have used color psychology to decorate them .

    Ystrad Mynach station , which recently opened at a cost of ￡5 million has four cells with glass doors for prisoners who suffer from claustrophobia（幽闭恐怖症）. Designers have painted the frames yellow , which researchers say is a calming color . Other cells contain a royal blue line because psychologists believe that the color is likely to encourage truthfulness .

    The station has 31 cells , including 12 with a “live scan” system for drunken or disturbed prisoners , which detects the rise and fall of their chest . An alarm alerts officers if a prisoner's breathing stops and carries on ringing until the door is opened .

    Designers and psychologists have worked for years on color . Blue is said to suggest trust , efficiency , duty , logic , coolness , thinking and calm . It also suggests coldness and unfriendliness . It is thought that strong blues will stimulate clear thought and lighter , soft colors will calm the mind and aid concentration .

    Yellow is linked with confidence , self-respect and friendliness get the color wrong and it could cause fear , depression and anxiety , but the right yellow can lift spirits and self-respect .

    Ingrid Collins , a psychologist who specializes in the effects of color , said that color was an “ energy force ” . She said : “ Blue does enhance communication but I am not sure it would enhance truthful communication . ”

    Yellow , she said , affected the mind . Red , on the other hand , should never be considered because it could increase aggression . Mrs. Collins praised the designers for using colors in the cells . Gwent is not the first British force to experiment with color to calm down or persuade prisoners to co-operate , In the 1990s Strathclyde Police used pink in cells based on research carried out by the US Navy .

"Who does the cooking in your home?" I'm often asked by my colleagues. "My wife and I share it 50/50," I usually say without hesitation.

    It's a lie, of course. We're pretty much even（相等的）when it comes to the children and the elderly. But the paying of bills isn't 50/50-my wife pays all sorts of household expenses, so I never even have to set eyes on them. And the cooking isn't 50/50, either.

    The truth is that I am the cook. On my recent 40th birthday, I received the following gifts from my children: a new pot, two mini bottles of truffle oil, a decorative salad-dressing pourer, and a juice-making machine. For a moment I longed for something more manly, a cricket bat, perhaps, and then had to admit that all these things would be useful for me.

    It's not that my wife can't or doesn't like to cook (she makes delicious Welsh cakes). Nor has it always been this way. In the early years of our marriage I'd be relaxing with a glass of wine while my wife prepared for dinner after work.

But at some point that changed and I became the cook. Ten years with my wife gave me the rewards-I can throw together a roast, and I can make much foreign food. But I have truly become a monster(怪物) in the kitchen, unable to keep myself away from cooking. "You have to add Dijon to the sauce; it brings out the taste of the cheese," I volunteer, as my wife is cooking. "Quick, stir in the butter so the dish becomes delicious."

    Is it any wonder that my wife has given up coming into the kitchen while I find the whole process of chopping, mixing, and adding things deeply satisfying?

    Once there was an 11-year-old boy who went fishing with his father in the middle of the Finger lake. On the day before salmon(鲑鱼) season opened, they were fishing early in the evening, catching other fish with worms. Then the boy tied on a small silver lure (鱼饵) and put it into the lake. Suddenly he felt that something very big pulling on the lure. His father watched with admiration as the boy skillfully brought the fish beside the bank. Finally he lifted the tired fish from the water. It was the largest one he had ever seen, but it was a salmon.

    The boy and his father looked at the big fish. The father lit a match and looked at his watch. It was 10 pm – two hours before the season opened. He looked at the fish, then at the boy. “You'll have to put it back, son,” he said.

    “Dad!” cried the boy, “There will be other fish,” said his father. “Not as big as this one,” cried the boy. He looked around the lake. No other fishermen or boats were in sight in the moonlight. He looked again at his father.

    Even though no one had seen them, nor could anyone ever know what time he had caught the fish, the boy could tell from his father's voice that the decision couldn't be changed. He threw the huge salmon into the dark water. The big fish disappeared. The boy thought that he would never again see such a big fish.

    That was 34 years ago. Today the boy is an successful architect in New York City. He often takes his own son and daughters to fish at the same place.

    And he was right. He has never again caught such a large fish as the one he got that night long ago. But he does see that same fish … again and again … every time he has an ethical (伦理的，道德的) decision to make. For, as his father had taught him, ethics are simple matters of right and wrong. It is only the practice of ethics that is difficult.

    In the early hours of the morning, Gary Miller was in his truck, traveling down the road alone to deliver. Everything seemed calm. But with the sound of a fire siren (警笛) cutting through the wind, he became alarmed. Miller, a trucker by trade, has been a volunteer firefighter for 40 years. That loud, sharp siren assured him that help was on the way.

    Most people never realize that this help is often a crew of volunteer firefighters. They make up 70 percent of the country's nearly 1.2 million firefighters. "When I was a teenager there would be many who responded. About 20 people were coming into the voluntary fire station at one siren." Miller laughed. But now, at his 54, that memory is almost ironic (讽刺的)to him. When a call comes in, his station might get only three or four people responding. He said: "People don't want to, or rather, they don't have time to volunteer." Adults' burdens have become greater. There isn't as much time left for volunteering when most people rely on a two-income household now more than ever.

    Firefighters face far more than what we imagine. The emotional stress on a firefighter stands out. "We're asked to help someone at their most vulnerable (易受伤的) time. But we can't always save the day like we hope to." Miller reflected on the case years ago. "A mother's car was hit hard, and she had two children in the backseat." By the time he arrived on the scene, there wasn't much to be done. "One child died in my arms and I felt so defeated."

    Along with the emotional stress, the physical danger is just as great. Even with the progress of equipment and new training, that's still not always enough to save a firefighter's life. In 2016, 60 firefighters died in the line of the duty. "When you respond, you never know if it is to be your last," Miller said. "And that's just a risk we take." Miller continued. "It's dangerous. But it's also the most rewarding thing I've ever done."

    If you're a yoga lover, you've probably noticed the ways yoga works — you're sleeping better, getting fewer colds or just feeling more relaxed and at ease. But if you've ever tried telling a beginner how it works, you might find explanations like "It increases the flow of prana" or "It brings energy up your spine" fall on skeptical ears.

    As it happens, Western science is starting to provide some concrete clues about how yoga works to improve health, heal aches and pains, and prevent sicknesses. Once you understand them, you'll have even more motivation to step onto your mat.

    I myself have experienced yoga's healing power in a very real way. Weeks before a trip to India in 2002 to investigate yoga therapy, I developed numbness and tingling (刺痛) in my right hand. After first considering scary things like a brain tumor and multiple sclerosis, I figured out that the cause of the symptoms was thoracic outlet syndrome, a nerve blockage in my neck and chest.

    Despite the uncomfortable symptoms, I realized how useful my condition could be during my trip. While visiting various yoga therapy centers, I would submit myself for evaluation and treatment by the various experts, try their suggestions and see what worked for me.

    Thanks to the techniques I learned in India, advice from teachers in the United States, and my own exploration, my chest is more flexible than it was, my posture has improved, and for more than a year, I've been free of symptoms.

    My experience inspired me to dig into the scientific studies that I'd collected in India as well as the West to identify and explain how yoga can both prevent disease and help you recover from it.