Brit stores are charging 5p per plastic bag. Big deal.
People are too lazy to change their habits – not just in GB. They’ll try to nick a basket (until it’s tagged).
Over here in DK, the bags are min. 25p! And people still buy them! So what is the solution? Biodegradable bags maybe?
PS we keep a couple of strong cardboard boxes in the car and take them into the store. Easypeasy.
A good few months ago, Boadicea mentioned that she had taken a visiting friend to see Uluru (Ayers Rock) and Kata Tjuta (The Olgas) and promised to post a picture of herself mounted on a camel, of which we have over a million in The Red Centre.
Of course she never got around to it.
So, thanks to Win 10 and our Homegroup, I have sneakily accessed her files across the network and published this memorable snap for the edification of fellow Charioteers.
Yes, the camel is ‘aving a larf. They do, when the mood takes them.
When Arabs live in Britain we are careful to advise them that our rules apply. They are not allowed to do many things they believe to be ok per their ‘home’ rules.
A Brit who has (condescendingly?) ‘dedicated’ his last 25 years to his job in Saudi, has been caught with home-brew wine and seems likely to suffer for it.
Why did he do it? He can’t claim ignorance of the rules. Maybe he’s always flouted them. But one thing is certain, he shouldn’t complain.
Love them or hate them, M & S commands respect in the biz community. Like coriander in the kitchen perhaps.
I recall just what a demanding time we had whenever as suppliers we were summoned to Baker Street to field ultra detailed questions about our product’s performance in their stores. Any justifiable consumer grouse had to be reimbursed five-fold.
But hey! I hear Backside retort, that was all nearly 50 years ago; although I doubt anything has changed. So I’m impressed with Cameron’s choice of Stuart Rose, ex M & S boss of renown, to chair the campaign to stay in the EU. Just as Maggie the Great chose an earlier Baker St. Boss to mastermind her slimming of the overfed Civil Service 30 odd years ago.
So when I pop back home later this month, I’ll do homage to St. Michael and top up with hanks and socks, my kind of Marmite and coriander you might say.
“Tai Hu” is Chinese for “Great Lake”. It is a large lake in north-western Zhejiang Province and south-western Jiangsu Province. To the north is Suzhou, a place which in the past was known as the “Venice of the East” due to its many beautiful canals, merchant culture and fabulous wealth. The emphasis is “on the past” as the canals have largely been filled in and, other than for what has become in effect a motley collection of tourist traps, the grand houses and gardens of the past have been levelled to make room for generic neo-Stalinist concrete blocks. T0 the south is Huzhou, a city with just as rich a past as Suzhou but none of the glamour and fame.
Today the Huzhou manager visited me unannounced. The principal of the primary school ordered my transfer and replacement with a teacher currently in southern Zhejiang Province. The order was not a dismissal nor was it based on character or ability. Most students and teachers have mentioned that they simply thought that I was in the wrong position although they recognised that I was sincere in my efforts. The Huzhou manager offered me a choice of schools — high schools an universities — located throughout China and hinted that a pay rise would be acceptable to the company as a manner of apology for the inconvenience caused.
I gave them an ultimatum. They could send me to any of the following places:
Should none of these locations be remotely possible I requested that my contract be paid out in full to the end of the original year and arrangements for my repatriation to Europe be made. They offered me anywhere, anything else in China — anywhere from Jilin in the frozen norths of Manchuria to Zhuhai or Shenzhen, the last towns on the former Sino-Lusitanian and Anglo-Chinese frontiers respectively. I re-iterated my conditions: Taiwan, Hong Kong or Japan. I will not be subjected to this degree of back-biting, back-stabbing, defamation and general incompetence with impunity.
Today I received an email. In it I was essentially told that I was incompetent, incapable and utterly unsuited for the position of ESL instructor. After under three weeks on the job I was told that I am not nearly experienced enough. I was told that my accent is entirely wrong. This information was entirely based on lies and distortions by a nasty, vindictive shrew of a peasant. If their attitude does not change I might well return to Europe from Taiwan and let them wallow in their own filth.
I am shocked to read that of all the places expats like to decamp to, Mexico and Russia star in the top ten! The rest seem reasonable choices. But why those two at all? I mean really?
I confess to knowing a bit about Mexico from a family connection over 30-odd years; and my information includes stuff about corruption and feudal attitudes. And how come the Russian social life is so appealing? Any suggestions?
http://www.bbc.com/capital/sponsored/story/20150916-the-12-happiest-destinations-for-expats
Anything to convince himself that he’s still important. I hope you enjoy this, Christopher.
Next thing we know Salmond will employ someone to throw a rotten haggis at him. I suppose he expected everyone to know who he is and bow down accordingly. Now Alex, repeat after me “Sic transit gloria mundi” and then go and find someone to explain it to you.
It’s the pain, doctor.
Where exactly, Janus?
Just here (pointing to heart).
And when do you get it?
Whenever I watch English teams play.
So it’s home-sickness then, the call from home?
No. That’s a sweeter feeling, like hearing I’m to be a grandpa for the 10th time.
Congratulations then! But back to the pain?
Yes. What’s the cure?
Get rid of the sports channels. Watch Danish tv. You’ll feel no emotion whatever and sleep extremely well. That’s the true meaning of ‘hygge’ (pron. hew- ga)!
Boadicea's Chariot 
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