Wednesday, May 18, 2022
Thursday, April 21, 2022
Sunday, April 17, 2022
Tuesday, April 13, 2021
Cherry blossom a gift from Japan
ONE hundred cherry trees have been planted at Kingston Lacy, after being gifted by Japan to celebrate Japanese-British friendship.
The trees, which form part of the National Trust's annual celebration of spring blossom, have been planted in Kingston Lacy's Japanese Garden.
Kingston Lacy, the National Trust property near Wimborne, was the first of the trust's properties to take part in the Sakura project, a Japanese initiative that is gifting around 6,500 cherry trees to parks, gardens and schools across the country.
Three varieties of cherry (Beni-yutaka, Taihaku, and Somei-yoshino), were chosen for this project.
Taihaku (known as the Great White cherry) is particularly relevant as the variety became extinct in Japan but was reintroduced to its homeland by Britain’s Collingwood 'Cherry' Ingram in 1932.
Wednesday, May 27, 2020
...
“We can change.
People say we can’t, but we do when the stakes or the pain is high enough. And when we do, life can change. It offers more of itself when we agree to give up our busyness.”
@ANNELAMOTT on love, despair, and our capacity for change: brainpickings.org/2018/10/24/ann…
People say we can’t, but we do when the stakes or the pain is high enough. And when we do, life can change. It offers more of itself when we agree to give up our busyness.”
@ANNELAMOTT on love, despair, and our capacity for change: brainpickings.org/2018/10/24/ann…
Friday, May 22, 2020
I'm an NHS doctor – and I've had enough of people clapping for me.
"I work for the NHS as a doctor. I don’t work “on the frontline” because there isn’t one; I’m not in the army and we aren’t engaged in military combat. But I do work as a consultant on a ward where we have had Covid-19, and colleagues of mine have been very unwell. The requirement to be constantly vigilant and to manage the infection risk makes work more difficult, more stressful, and at times more tragic.
Obviously I carry on going to work – it is my job, one that I enjoy and am being well paid for. I am pleased to have a reason to leave the house. I have a very decent and secure income so count myself extremely lucky.
It would, however, be nice to have clarity about many things, from testing to isolation to proper use of personal protective equipment (PPE). It would also be nice to have worked for the past 10 years in an adequately funded NHS, staffed by people listened to by the government. It would be nice to see appropriate remuneration for the low-paid staff holding the service together, to see that the value of immigrants to the NHS is appreciated, and to have a health service integrated with a functioning social care service.
What I don’t find nice, and I really don’t need, is people clapping. I don’t need rainbows. I don’t care if people clap until their hands bleed with rainbows tattooed on their faces. I don’t even (whisper it) need Colonel Tom, lovely man as he clearly is.
I know many of my colleagues appreciate the clapping, saying that they feel moved and grateful, that the coming together of the community to support the NHS warms the heart. There are others, like me, whose response is that it is a sentimental distraction from the issues facing us.
Even those who liked it at the beginning are becoming wary of the creeping clapping fascism, the competition to make the most obvious and noisiest display, the shaming of non-clappers. Some argue that it unites us, that we’re all in this together. But when, for whatever complex reasons, we hear that poorer areas have double the death rate, with people from ethnic minorities disproportionately affected, I think: are we really in this together? Maybe people should clap a bit louder in inner-city Birmingham than in Surrey.
Are we still allowed to complain about poor resources and potentially unsafe working conditions now we’ve had clapping, rainbows, free doughnuts and a centenarian walking round his garden for us? How dare we?
The NHS is not a charity and it isn’t staffed by heroes. It has been run into the ground by successive governments and now we are reaping the rewards of that neglect, on the background of the public health impact of years of rampant inequality in the UK.
The coronavirus crisis has shone a light on lots of good and bad things in this country. It is of course to be welcomed that key workers, including those for the NHS and social care, are being increasingly valued. I hope the reality is dawning that immigrants and BAME staff are vital to the NHS and we couldn’t manage without them.
But don’t feel you need to clap. Enough with the rainbows. When this ends, people need to show their value of key-working staff in practical ways; pay them enough to be able to live in our cities, and recognise, support and welcome immigrant staff who prop this country up. Listen to the views of NHS workers when they raise concerns, address the culture of blame and bureaucracy. Even my colleagues who still appreciate the clapping will bang a saucepan to that."
/From the Guardian/
PS
Annemarie Plas, architect of the “clap for carers” gesture, has said next Thursday’s event, the tenth, should be the last.
Obviously I carry on going to work – it is my job, one that I enjoy and am being well paid for. I am pleased to have a reason to leave the house. I have a very decent and secure income so count myself extremely lucky.
It would, however, be nice to have clarity about many things, from testing to isolation to proper use of personal protective equipment (PPE). It would also be nice to have worked for the past 10 years in an adequately funded NHS, staffed by people listened to by the government. It would be nice to see appropriate remuneration for the low-paid staff holding the service together, to see that the value of immigrants to the NHS is appreciated, and to have a health service integrated with a functioning social care service.
What I don’t find nice, and I really don’t need, is people clapping. I don’t need rainbows. I don’t care if people clap until their hands bleed with rainbows tattooed on their faces. I don’t even (whisper it) need Colonel Tom, lovely man as he clearly is.
I know many of my colleagues appreciate the clapping, saying that they feel moved and grateful, that the coming together of the community to support the NHS warms the heart. There are others, like me, whose response is that it is a sentimental distraction from the issues facing us.
Even those who liked it at the beginning are becoming wary of the creeping clapping fascism, the competition to make the most obvious and noisiest display, the shaming of non-clappers. Some argue that it unites us, that we’re all in this together. But when, for whatever complex reasons, we hear that poorer areas have double the death rate, with people from ethnic minorities disproportionately affected, I think: are we really in this together? Maybe people should clap a bit louder in inner-city Birmingham than in Surrey.
Are we still allowed to complain about poor resources and potentially unsafe working conditions now we’ve had clapping, rainbows, free doughnuts and a centenarian walking round his garden for us? How dare we?
The NHS is not a charity and it isn’t staffed by heroes. It has been run into the ground by successive governments and now we are reaping the rewards of that neglect, on the background of the public health impact of years of rampant inequality in the UK.
The coronavirus crisis has shone a light on lots of good and bad things in this country. It is of course to be welcomed that key workers, including those for the NHS and social care, are being increasingly valued. I hope the reality is dawning that immigrants and BAME staff are vital to the NHS and we couldn’t manage without them.
But don’t feel you need to clap. Enough with the rainbows. When this ends, people need to show their value of key-working staff in practical ways; pay them enough to be able to live in our cities, and recognise, support and welcome immigrant staff who prop this country up. Listen to the views of NHS workers when they raise concerns, address the culture of blame and bureaucracy. Even my colleagues who still appreciate the clapping will bang a saucepan to that."
/From the Guardian/
PS
Annemarie Plas, architect of the “clap for carers” gesture, has said next Thursday’s event, the tenth, should be the last.
Saturday, February 29, 2020
Forget the rules - funeral costs.
- Forget the rules, there are meaningful ways to bury spiralling funeral costs | Money | The Guardian
Cutting cremation costs
No family, no friends, no ceremony – a grim farewell for some, but a necessary saving for others.
Direct cremations, where there is no service and the ashes are kept or delivered to loved ones, cost from £1,000.
David Bowie, who died in 2016, famously helped raise awareness of this option when he chose to be secretly cremated without family or friends present after telling loved ones he did not want a funeral service.
His ashes were scattered on the Indonesian island of Bali.
But direct cremations still account for only 4% of all cremations each year.
David Collingwood, director of funerals at Co-op Funeralcare – which handles one in six deaths –says interest is growing.
It charges £1,395 – but he says the decision is often led by practicality more than cost, particularly if family members are overseas.
“The service can be ordered over the phone or online,” he explains.
“And families often have a ceremony with the ashes at a later date.”
Costs are relatively low – less than a third of a cremation with a service.
The body goes straight to the crematorium in a plain coffin, and the process takes place at a time convenient to the facility.
“For some, it is appropriate to have a full service with family carrying the coffin and laying flowers,” Collingwood says.
“For others, that is not the priority. They choose to focus on a memorial service or a ceremony to scatter the ashes.”
Cutting cremation costs
No family, no friends, no ceremony – a grim farewell for some, but a necessary saving for others.
Direct cremations, where there is no service and the ashes are kept or delivered to loved ones, cost from £1,000.
David Bowie, who died in 2016, famously helped raise awareness of this option when he chose to be secretly cremated without family or friends present after telling loved ones he did not want a funeral service.
His ashes were scattered on the Indonesian island of Bali.
But direct cremations still account for only 4% of all cremations each year.
David Collingwood, director of funerals at Co-op Funeralcare – which handles one in six deaths –says interest is growing.
It charges £1,395 – but he says the decision is often led by practicality more than cost, particularly if family members are overseas.
“The service can be ordered over the phone or online,” he explains.
“And families often have a ceremony with the ashes at a later date.”
Costs are relatively low – less than a third of a cremation with a service.
The body goes straight to the crematorium in a plain coffin, and the process takes place at a time convenient to the facility.
“For some, it is appropriate to have a full service with family carrying the coffin and laying flowers,” Collingwood says.
“For others, that is not the priority. They choose to focus on a memorial service or a ceremony to scatter the ashes.”
Tuesday, January 14, 2020
"If you see a chance to be kind to someone tomorrow, take it."
Overlooked in Brad Pitt's Hilarious Golden Globes Speech Was a Gift We Almost Always Want From Others, But Rarely Give. In 1 Sentence, Here It Is | Inc.com
Yet living a life guided by kindness isn't always easy.
Do something nice, just because you can, and many will assume you want something.
Yet living a life guided by kindness isn't always easy.
Do something nice, just because you can, and many will assume you want something.
Wednesday, December 4, 2019
Saturday, November 23, 2019
Saturday, November 9, 2019
Monday, October 28, 2019
Friday, October 4, 2019
Brexit.
- Editorial by Bronte Aurell, Author & Owner of ScandiKitchen
Already as the first few words typed out onto the screen, this promise was broken.
Brexit is everywhere around us and still, three years on, overshadows everything we do here in the UK and divides so many people.
It’s not all about protest, proroguing and Prime Ministers, though.
Instead, writing-about-not-writing-about-Brexitgot me thinking much more about the roles we association members play in each other’s lives, especially during times of a somewhat uncertain nature.
Because it is not simply about Brexit as the political force but also very much about the division and confusion it has created along the way - and how we react together, as a community.
For the past twelve years, ScandiKitchen – the business I run with my Swedish partner Jonas – has sat alongside the lives of the Nordic ex-pats and immigrants in the UK.
As purveyors of remoulade and pickled herring to the people, we went from being the small quirky London café to a food importer supplying the bigger fish.
This journey went uphill and downhill as we survived the recession, rode the trendy Scandi waves and even plunged ourselves into the great ‘how to pronounce hygge’debate.
Just as we thought things were plain sailing, the UK voted to leave the European Union, changing everyone’s lives, affecting everything from the businesses that trade here to Mrs Jensen in Bournemouth who married her British sweetheart in 1984 (and never thought she’d have to question her cross-border identity).
Being a business that often exists to temporarily medicate people’s homesickness through food, we get a privileged look into what is going on in the heart of the Nordic community.
At the same level in business, the Danish UK association has the same opportunity together with its Nordic partners to tie us closer together when the outlook is less predictable.
From the brilliant meetings and conferences organised by all the various Chambers of Commerce on how to deal with Brexit, what to do about Brexit etc - to the smaller gatherings in churches and cafes such as ours where people can find help on how to move forward (importantly voiced in their own languages).
Every one of these meet-ups and groups have, in the face of a lot of division, served to actually bring us all closer and make us stronger.
Whether we were questioning the business climate or someone wondering whether it’s time to move on: the community support has been felt throughout, reinforcing a great sense of belonging when it was needed most.
At times like these, we feel extremely proud to be a Nordic company doing business in the UK, being supported by such a fantastic rich mix of organisations.
Despite the gloom predicted over the next while, we’ve still been left with a sense of optimism that stems from the unity and common goal in which our communities are working together, both across the business forums and in our personal lives.
From the Danes helping Danes, to all the pan-Nordic and UK organisations helping each other – working towards a common goal of making any Brexit landing as soft as possible, for the greater good of all of us.
Bronte Aurell, ScandiKitchen
Already as the first few words typed out onto the screen, this promise was broken.
Brexit is everywhere around us and still, three years on, overshadows everything we do here in the UK and divides so many people.
It’s not all about protest, proroguing and Prime Ministers, though.
Instead, writing-about-not-writing-about-Brexitgot me thinking much more about the roles we association members play in each other’s lives, especially during times of a somewhat uncertain nature.
Because it is not simply about Brexit as the political force but also very much about the division and confusion it has created along the way - and how we react together, as a community.
For the past twelve years, ScandiKitchen – the business I run with my Swedish partner Jonas – has sat alongside the lives of the Nordic ex-pats and immigrants in the UK.
As purveyors of remoulade and pickled herring to the people, we went from being the small quirky London café to a food importer supplying the bigger fish.
This journey went uphill and downhill as we survived the recession, rode the trendy Scandi waves and even plunged ourselves into the great ‘how to pronounce hygge’debate.
Just as we thought things were plain sailing, the UK voted to leave the European Union, changing everyone’s lives, affecting everything from the businesses that trade here to Mrs Jensen in Bournemouth who married her British sweetheart in 1984 (and never thought she’d have to question her cross-border identity).
Being a business that often exists to temporarily medicate people’s homesickness through food, we get a privileged look into what is going on in the heart of the Nordic community.
At the same level in business, the Danish UK association has the same opportunity together with its Nordic partners to tie us closer together when the outlook is less predictable.
From the brilliant meetings and conferences organised by all the various Chambers of Commerce on how to deal with Brexit, what to do about Brexit etc - to the smaller gatherings in churches and cafes such as ours where people can find help on how to move forward (importantly voiced in their own languages).
Every one of these meet-ups and groups have, in the face of a lot of division, served to actually bring us all closer and make us stronger.
Whether we were questioning the business climate or someone wondering whether it’s time to move on: the community support has been felt throughout, reinforcing a great sense of belonging when it was needed most.
At times like these, we feel extremely proud to be a Nordic company doing business in the UK, being supported by such a fantastic rich mix of organisations.
Despite the gloom predicted over the next while, we’ve still been left with a sense of optimism that stems from the unity and common goal in which our communities are working together, both across the business forums and in our personal lives.
From the Danes helping Danes, to all the pan-Nordic and UK organisations helping each other – working towards a common goal of making any Brexit landing as soft as possible, for the greater good of all of us.
Bronte Aurell, ScandiKitchen
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