@AngieMi21731808@JeremyVineOn5 Agree! He also betrayed his wonderful grandmother (our late QEII RIP) so he deserves nothing from his family or the taxpayer! And she deserves even less!imo
@FamersDog Well done Jeremy, men like you need to show up for this and tell people the rest isnโt so bad. I wish you so well on your journey. Much love xx
In 600 AD, an English king wrote the first law in our language.
He priced your thumb at 20 shillings and your finger at just 9. ๐คฏ
He gave women the right to own property. ๐ฌ๐ง
He bound himself, the king, by the very first judgement.
Six hundred years before Magna Carta.
Three hundred years before England was a nation.
His name was Aethelberht. King of Kent.
He wrote it in English. Not Latin. Not the language of the Church.
Around 90 judgements. From the hair on the head to the nail on the toe โ every injury had a price.
Knocking off a man's hat cost 6 shillings. Twice the price of a punch on the nose. ๐ฉ
And then it did something extraordinary. โจ
A widow could keep half her husband's estate.
She could leave with her children.
She could choose.
In the year 600.
The original was lost. โ๏ธ
But one English monk at Rochester saved it in 1120.
UNESCO calls it the birth of English as a language of the page.
The English have been writing their own laws ever since. ๐
If you want to preserve the past and help write the next chapter ๐
๐ https://t.co/rih7iKwnvf ๐
Be part of us. โ๏ธ๐ฌ๐ง
Be Proud Of Us. ๐๐ฌ๐ง
A field with a cow in it produces:
Food.
Wool, if it is a sheep.
Milk, butter, cheese, yoghurt, cream.
Leather, tallow, bone meal, gelatin, lanolin.
A complex grass sward with twenty or more plant species.
Habitat for ground-nesting birds, golden plover, curlew, skylark.
Habitat for dung beetles, which are habitat for everything that eats dung beetles.
Soil carbon, increasing year on year if grazed correctly.
Hedgerows that the farmer maintains because the animal needs shelter.
A water cycle that involves the rain falling on the field, soaking in, and feeding the aquifer rather than running off into the river and flooding the town downstream.
A rural economy of feed merchants, vets, fencers, farriers, knackermen, butchers, drovers, hauliers, abattoirs, pubs, and the occasional eccentric who turns up at midnight to deliver a calf because the farmer's wife rang him at half past eleven.
A field with no cow in it produces:
Bracken.
And eventually, no field.
There was a time when every adult in Britain owned at least one woollen jumper that had been knitted by a relative.
An Aran in cream bรกinรญn, smelling faintly of lanolin because the wool had never been scoured. A Fair Isle in eight muted colours from the dyer in Lerwick. A Guernsey in tight navy worsted from a port on the Channel. The yarn came off sheep grazing the same hillsides a great-grandfather had grazed sheep on. It was carded, spun, and knitted by a woman who had been doing it since she was nine.
The jumper lasted twenty years. It was warm when wet. It was naturally flame-retardant and did not melt onto your skin if a spark from the galley stove landed on it, which was not a hypothetical concern on a fishing boat.
The mill towns of Yorkshire and the Borders ran on this. Bradford alone had seventy-three worsted mills by 1836 and considerably more by 1900. Hebden Bridge, Halifax, Hawick, Galashiels, every river valley a chimney, every chimney a wage packet for the village around it.
Most of them are flats now. Or coffee shops. Or empty.
The decline started in the 1950s. By 1995 the British Wool Marketing Board had ninety-one thousand registered producers. By 2015 it had forty-six thousand. A British sheep fleece in 2026 is, in many cases, worth less than the cost of paying the shearer to remove it. Some farmers compost the wool. Some pay to have it taken away as agricultural waste. The same fleece their grandfathers had clothed the country with is being treated as a disposal problem.
The jumper in your wardrobe is now polyester, manufactured in Bangladesh from petroleum, shedding microplastic fibres into the washing machine on every cycle, most of them ending up in the ocean and staying there for the next three hundred years.
The sheep is still on the hillside. Still growing the fleece. Still needing the shear.
Waiting for someone to remember what it was for.
Can I sell my potatoes directly to you guys??Iโve set myself a challenge to do it! The market has still crashed with me still sitting on a shed load of potatoes and their future and mine doesnโt look great. So can I do it??? Well with your guys help, by liking, sharing, commenting and buying I might just do it! Plus you can still buy a bag for us to donate to a local food bank or charity! ๐ฅ๐จโ๐พ๐
You can order your posted potatoes or still donate a new bag of potatoes at: https://t.co/SYOW8H9rS9 ๐ฅ๐ฎ
#FarmerLuke #DownOnDaintreeFarm #Mrsfarmerluke #spudwife
@LydiaWa93556202@JaneFallon My little Molly looked like pickle too, gorgeous little tabby, lost her in May 24 my heart is still broken but like you she visits me in dreams and I also feel her on my bed and hear her purring โค๏ธ
@TruthJasonLee Loving seeing our flags everywhere! But I donโt understand why British people are taking them down? Are these people not proud to be British? Not wanting to argue with anyone, genuine thought ๐ญ
@royalistinusa Love this, shame the British media are only mentioning the loudmouth and the five anti royals instead of the thousands who are out to see the King and Queen, same as at the coronation, our media only mentioned the tiny area of anti monarchists and not the rest of us. MSM are ๐ฉ
@PickliciousF My molly used to share with me before she passed in May, she could have anything she fancied as she was so poorly, my vet said so, you would have made a beautiful couple. Miss her so bloody much โค๏ธ
@unreMARKLEble Not a fan of these but in fairness to Harry and the lady heโs โintroducedโ to, I donโt think he did touch her. However the wife did lots of pulling at Harry as she is a control freak, and to introduce her mother before him is such an insult to Harry! She is nasty!