When we decided to sell our flat, having been cheated by the previous owner, we thought it was really important to be completely honest with any potential buyers about having knotweed (蓼科杂草) in the garden. It had been such an unpleasant and stressful experience for us and we didn’t want to have anyone else suffer any longer.

We bought our two-bedroom flat in 2014, when it was just the two of us. But after having three kids it became too small, so we sold it last year. The flat has a small garden at the back, but we didn’t know the presence of knotweed until well after we moved in and had a note from our neighbor behind our flat saying that they thought we had knotweed. Then we had a look and found some very small offshoots for this was just around springtime. At that point my husband and I certainly didn’t realize quite how problematic it could be. But then we started reading all the horror stories and became really concerned — people couldn’t get a mortgage; they couldn’t sell; the plant was creeping through concrete etc.

Then we treated the offshoots with glyphosate and as far as we knew it was completely gone. Before we put the property on the market we had the house checked by some specialists, who thoroughly inspected everything, including the connecting garden, and couldn’t find anything at all. We signed a ten-year insurance-backed guarantee with the company that could be transferred to the new owners, then started marketing the property through an agent.

In fact we found a buyer pretty quickly and they didn’t beat us down on price as we’d already done much for the treatment. Knotweed doesn’t need to be a deal-breaker, as long as you’re upfront about it.

I am Tony, a volunteer stem cell courier. Since March 2019, I have done 99 trips——of those, 56 have been abroad. I have 42 hours to carry stem cells in my little box because I've got two ice packs and that's how long they last. In all, from the time the stem cells are harvested from a donor to the time they can be implanted (移植) in the patient, we've got 72 hours at most. So I am always conscious of time.

Last year, I had a trip where I was caught by a hurricane in America. I picked up the stem cells in Providence, Rhode Island, and was meant to fly to Washington then back to London. But when I arrived at the check -in desk at Providence, the lady on the desk said: "Well, I'm really sorry, but I've got some bad news for you - there are no flights to Washington." So I took my box and put it on the desk and I said: "In this box are some stem cells that are urgently needed for a patient- please, please, you've got to get me back to the United Kingdom." She just dropped everything. She arranged for a fight on a small plane to be held for me, rerouted (改道) me through Newark and got me back to the UK even earlier than originally scheduled.

For this courier job, I' m consciously aware that in that box I've got something that is potentially going to save someone’s life.

The clock struck eleven at night. The whole house was quiet. Everyone was in bed except me. Under the strong light, I looked sad before a huge pile of troublesome stuff that were called “books”. I was going to have my exam the next day. “When can I go to bed?” I asked myself. I didn’t answer; as a matter of fact, I dared not.

The clock struck twelve. “Oh, dear!” I cried, “five more books to read before I can go to bed!” We pupils are the poorest in the world. Dad does not agree with me on this. He did not have to work so hard when he was a boy.

The clock struck one. I was quite hopeless now. I forgot all I had learnt. I was too tired to go on. I did the only thing I could. I prayed, “Oh, God! Please help me pass the exam tomorrow. I do promise to work hard afterwards, Amen.” My eyes were so heavy that I could hardly open them. A few minutes later, with my head on the desk, I fell asleep.