In reviewing recent housing data for Massachusetts, it seems as though unit sales are up in many of our local towns.  Here are some numbers where we compare January 2011 sales data to January 2012.

Andover, MA: 124 sales versus 117 for January 2011 (up 6%)

Ayer, MA: 58 sales versus 48 for January 2011 (up 20.8%)

Billerica, MA: 148 sales versus 133 for January 2011 (up 11.3%)

Dracut MA: 134 sales versus 127 for January of 2011 (up 5.5%)

Groton, MA: 72 sales versus 62 for January 2011 (up 17.7%)

Groveland, MA: 34 sales versus 20 for January 2011 (up 70%)

Longmeadow, MA: 109 sales versus 100 for January 2011 (up 9%)

Lowell, MA: 240 sales verus 230 for January 2011 (up 4.4%)

Middleton, MA: 48 sales versus 44 in January 2011 (up 9.1%)

Monson, MA: 48 sales versus 37 in January 2011 (up 29.7%)

Northborough, MA: 85 sales versus 62 in January 2011 (up 37.1%)

Pepperell, MA: 71 sales versus 64 in January 2011 (up 10.9%)

Sudbury, MA: 114 sales versus 107 in January of 2011 (up 6.5%)

Tewksbury, MA: 112 sales versus 101 for January 2011 (up 10.9%)

Tyngsboro, MA: 53 sales versus 49 for January 2011 (up 8.2%)

Westford, MA: 112 sales versus 90 for January 2011 (up 24.4%)

Wilbraham, MA: 92 sales versus 83 for January 2011 (up 10.8%)

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For six days, Aron Ralston kept himself alive with fierce self-control and a conviction that only logical thought could let him survive. But the epiphany when the 27-year-old climber realised how he could save his own life came from an explosion of blind rage.

Ralston had been climbing the narrow canyons of Utah alone when a dislodged boulder fell on to his right arm, trapping him against a rock. He was entombed in the wilderness of Bluejohn Canyon, carrying a small rucksack with just one litre of water, two burritos and a few chunks of chocolate. He had headphones and a video camera but no mobile phone – and there was no reception anyway. Most foolishly of all, he had not told anyone where he was going. He eked out his water, futilely chipping away at the 800lb rock and slowly entering a state of delirium, until he was eventually forced to cut off his trapped arm, with the small knife from his cheap multitool kit.

Ralston, who is now 35 and still with the wiry physique of a climber, has just attended the London premiere of 127 Hours, Danny Boyle‘s film about his extraordinary escape from certain death. The film – like Ralston himself, full of boyish energy – is remarkably true-to-life, says Ralston, talking quickly and waving his arms around animatedly. It does not, however, fully describe his “gruesome” moment of revelation.

When his blunt knife pierced his skin but came to rest against solid bone, Ralston thought there was no chance he could perform the gruesome amputation that would save his life. He brushed some grit from his trapped thumb and a sliver of flesh peeled off “like the skin of boiled milk”, he remembers. “I’m like, what the . . . ? I take my knife and I’m poking a bit more and the knife just slips into the meat of my thumb like it’s going into room-temperature butter. My hand has almost jellified. The knife tip goes in and, ‘pssstt’, the gases from decomposition escape and there’s this putrid smell. I go into this rage. I’m in this hyper-emotional state after all this regimented discipline to keep it together and in this moment, when I’m trying to rip my arm out from the rock, I feel it bend and it stops me – ‘That’s it! I can use the boulder to break my bones!’”