The monster crabs, which can weigh up to 25lb and have a claw-span of more than three feet, are proving so resilient that scientists fear they could end up as far south as Gibraltar.

Energised by a mysterious population explosion a decade ago, whole armies of the crustaceans - known as the Kamchatka or Red King Crabs - have already advanced about 400 miles along the roof of Europe, overwhelming the ports of northern Norway.

They now number more than 10 million and have reached the Lofoten Islands off north-west Scandinavia, leaving in their wake what one expert described as "an underwater desert".

The generation gap, once about content, has shifted to modes of consumption. For the under-30s, music is something to be shared and swapped and downloaded, legally or otherwise. It doesn't need to be owned because it's everywhere. If they do buy it, it may be in a form as slight as a mobile ringtone. This terrifies the music business, which can see itself slipping beneath the waves.

With Dido and Norah Jones ruling the album chart, the Beatles and Led Zeppelin selling plenty of DVDs, Duran Duran and Tears for Fears suddenly returning from oblivion and Franz Ferdinand achieving instant success, it looks as if the fifty-quid bloke is keeping the music business afloat. "There's a lot of evidence," Hepworth says. "Radio 2, Norah Jones, even The Darkness - these things appeal to an older demographic."

Dharavi, in India's commercial capital Bombay (Mumbai), is Asia's largest slum.

Made up of ramshackle corrugated tin sheds it is home to more than 600,000 people.

But it is a unique shanty town.

Thanks to a thriving crafts industry, Dharavi generates business worth nearly $1bn a year.

Local workshops turn out leather goods, pottery, and jewellery, much of it destined for shop shelves in the West.

Now, the authorities want to harness Dharavi's business potential with an ambitious plan to turn it into one of Asia's best neighbourhoods.

A massive re-development plan, costing some $1.3bn, is in prospect.

The music can lighten tense times. During the nail-biting moments before Spirit's descent and landing in January, at the suggestion of team member Rob Manning, Adler played Bobby McFerrin's "Don't Worry, Be Happy."

The Beatles tune "We Can Work it Out" greeted the team one morning as it tried to debug computer problems that stalled Spirit for several days. For other reasons that become clear as you read the list, even The Cars get airtime, as does Weird Al Yankovic (either you know his music all too well or you never heard of him).

Gabby Gingras has a disease so rare she's the only person her parents and doctors can find in the U.S. suffering from it. Like any other three-year-old, Gabby takes her share of slips and falls. Her reaction to each is predictable ? at least for her family.

For no matter how hard Gabby hits the ground, she will not shed a single tear. Hard as it is to fathom Gabby Gingras feels no pain. There is no cure, nor will she outgrow it.

[...]

So often we think of pain in a negative way. But it is pain, that protects us.

Because Gabby feels no pain, she no longer has any teeth.

"Didn't hurt her at all getting a tooth ripped out," Steve Gingras says.

The teeth she didn't break off while biting toys were removed by an oral surgeon after Gabby chewed up her mouth and tongue so badly she had to be hospitalized.

"Pain is the protective mechanism, and she doesn't have that," Dr. Smith says.

Gabby didn't have pain to save her eyes either. She scratched them so severely, that at one point doctors sewed them shut to keep her fingers out. But, the damage was already done.

Last week Gabby's family was at Fairview University Medical Center to discuss the removal of her left eye, now swollen and blind from glaucoma brought on by the scratching.

The vision in Gabby's scratched right eye, her good eye, has been measured at 20-300.