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Showing posts from June, 2008

Primark in the news

Last Saturday while out trying to get stuff for husband's birthday we got stopped by a socialist. He alerted me to the TV expose (sorry, don't know how to put accent in) on Primark and I duly signed a petition. I don't shop at Primark. Call me snooty if you must. But I smell a fish when clothes are sold so cheaply. ( See previous post .) In any case I have eschewed 'fast fashion' for some time and prefer fashion on the slow, classic lane. Any way I went home and sought out the programme on BBC iPlayer. The three things that struck me were women quarrelling over drinking water in a village devastated by a huge textile factory (of which effluence has poisoned the natural water supply and drinking water has to be trucked in every day -- criminal!) the smiling faces of the boys being rescued from sweatshops because they know they are headed for a better life, and big corporations like Primark simply washed their hands off the whole issue -- buried their heads in the san

Hay fever, cold, virus infection

Husband came back from work on Tuesday looking rather rough. One eye was bloodshot. He went to bed early. We both had a difficult night. I was up blowing my nose, struggling to breathe, etc. He was up counting the hours to the next lot of pain-killers. Next morning he was aching all over and so stayed in bed. It is difficult enough when a husband who has been as healthy as he could be suddenly finds himself not able to get out of bed. But I found that I was now also full of cold and feeling extreme tiredness. So after school drop-off I too went to have a snooze to make up for the rather sleepless night we had. I tried to get life back to 'normal' as much as I could. But husband appeared to be deteriorating and at one point was groaning in some pain. So it was decided that we needed a doctor to call. But it was "too late" for our GP practice to send a doctor. We had to wait for some three hours till "after hours" for the out-of-hours Harmoni doctor to call. W

Hay fever

Didn't really kick in this year till about two weeks ago. Even then it has not been at all bad. But Saturday was a different story. Cousin has flown in to see her supervisor. As she often does, she took us out for a meal and we went to a nice Thai restaurant. Good food it was. Took my anti-histamine pill as usual. Fell asleep at some point. Then at about midnight it seemed, fireworks went off. Someone close by were letting off fireworks with loud bangs at every second for a while. Why do people wait till midnight to do this? And to celebrate what? Totally inconsiderate. Any way, didn't manage to get back to sleep with my nose thickening up. After getting up every minute or so to blow my nose into hankies which were getting sodden, it was time to move into the bathroom. I sit on the 'throne' reading, and blow my nose into the sink whenever necessary. Dab hot water all over the face. That way it gets a 'steaming' effect and the tubes are cleared a little. I read m

"Retcro©": or how retro is eco

Take ironing for example. As a young child one of the first tasks I was allowed to do was sorting the clean clothes, folding them up neatly, and putting them away. Then I graduated to being able to 'moisten' the clothes that needed ironing. This entailed getting an enamel jug of water and sprinkling water all over the clothes with some deft wristwork and rolling them up. I've often wondered why we didn't just iron the clothes while still wet, rather than wait for them to dry and I had to wet them again. These were then bundled up in a large piece of cloth for a few minutes. Then Mum would do the ironing. She would have a bowl of water with her and would sprinkle the clothes with water when she saw fit. That was 'steam ironing'. Later I watched for the first time my sister-in-law use a steam iron and I thought how marvellous the steam iron was. In my married life -- just coming up to ten years -- I cannot remember how many steam irons we'd gone through. The h

Finding a fit

Many years ago at university someone -- who's now someone very important in Singapore -- said to me, "You have old men and women who like to tell stories, and young boys and girls who like listening to stories. Why not just put the two together?" There are scientists who argue organic agriculture will not solve the world's food problems because there is not enough people to do the labour. Or it gets too expensive. In the UK we have an exploding prison population and concerns that prisoners do not get to spend more than an hour outside their cell. Why not put these prisoners to work in organic farms? Lots of sunshine (are you seriously talking about the UK?) and fresh air to give them lots of exercise. Tire them out and keep them out of trouble and off the drugs. Why not? Prison has become so comfortable that for some it's a better place than to be on the streets. I hear stories that illegal migrants controlled by 'gangmasters' prefer a prison bed to themse

Blood, Sweat and T-shirts -- an addendum

Didn't get round to saying it before. The workers that the six British young people got to see in India in this TV series can be said to be caught (up)/trapped in a 'culture of poverty'. While education in most countries allow people to experience 'social mobility', those trapped in poverty do not have the wherewithal to better themselves. Once they stopped working, they stop eating. Education or any form of training really becomes a luxury. (Something that Richard in the series learned, eventually.) That is why everywhere where education becomes available and children are able to make use of it, they do better than their parents: social mobility. (And also family size comes down, easing over-population.) In Britain, however, we are negating the effect of universal free education. At least some parts of the population are. Instead of using education to achieve social mobility, it is easier for some to choose a 'culture of dependency': the government will pro