"Firmly believing that my times are in God’s hand, I here submit myself and all my affairs for the ensuing year, to the wise and gracious disposal of God’s divine providence." — Matthew Henry
Every time, I hear silly yarns like 'imports will kill local producers', and not even one person tries to first find out why imported goods are cheaper.
What makes your local producers uncompetitive? Instead to channel energy towards the underlying factors that make local production uncompetitive, the obsession is always 'ban it', as though the ban will solve the problem behind your uncompetitiveness.
I am just imagine a scenario where a school management realises that their indigenous students are always performing very poorly relative to non-indigenous students. Instead of investigating the source of poor performance, they went on to cancel future enrolment of non-indigenous students as though it will solve the problem of poor performance by the indigenous folks.
The moment you leave the sources of uncompetitiveness unchecked, and you resort to banning, you have only given the entrepreneur unrestricted access and power to pass all the costs on you without mercy. YOU THE CONSUMER will be the loser, because your consumer surplus has been totally eliminated? Ffs, how do you not see these??
All that shit argument about 'job creation' will mean nothing when you pay through your nose for things.
When I saw the update from 'Newa Cabal', I said 'nah, this has to be fake news. The president that me I am seeing will not approve this bullshit'. I googled to see if the news was being carried by other outlets, I didn't see any and said 'I knew it! It has to be false. How can the president approve an import tariff on petrol?'.
And then I saw the circular myself. Lmao. Just lmao. At the end of the day, man is not different.
Is this the man y'all said knew economics? This is outright one of the most stupid and useless policies in recent times.
During my time in Covenant University, something incredibly monumental happened to me that taught me one of the most important lessons of my life.
Story time.
Important detail: my nickname on campus was Praise Machine because I sang often and it was always fire.
Exhibit A:
Couple came to my parents for counseling. I was doing my homework in the dining.
I said, ‘aunty you're bigger than him, just lift him up with one hand and throw him down.”
The silence 😭
They told me to go to my room.
That I didn't get beat up was because my dad found it funny
Haussmann’s renovation of Paris was a city-led master plan situation where Napoleon III gave urban planner Haussmann full authority over building new streets and sanitation AND a form-based code:
—small-lot, mixed-use, mult-family buildings rising 4-6 stories tall
—built wall to wall so they form solid street walls and coherent blocks
The city provided good infrastructure AND GOOD CODE; the private builders built it out.
It also helped that paris sits on top of the limestone quarries that supply the (naturally fire-resistant) stone used to build the single-stair buildings.
Every believer has been called to do the work of ministry. I am very much willing to sponsor you. Pack your bags this week, I’ll pay for your flight and rent a solid one bedroom for you in Bauchi or Borno. Once you settle in, you can start street to street evangelism by next week Monday. I’ll send you monthly upkeep. I believe we can put this your zeal to great use.
Rest in peace, Patricia Routledge 🙏🏻
In memory of her, I encourage everyone to read these words of hers from February last year.
Whether young or old, you're bound to get something out of it.
*****
"I’ll be turning 95 this coming Monday. In my younger years, I was often filled with worry — worry that I wasn’t quite good enough, that no one would cast me again, that I wouldn’t live up to my mother’s hopes. But these days begin in peace, and end in gratitude.
My life didn’t quite take shape until my forties. I had worked steadily — on provincial stages, in radio plays, in West End productions — but I often felt adrift, as though I was searching for a home within myself that I hadn’t quite found.
At 50, I accepted a television role that many would later associate me with — Hyacinth Bucket, of Keeping Up Appearances. I thought it would be a small part in a little series. I never imagined that it would take me into people’s living rooms and hearts around the world. And truthfully, that role taught me to accept my own quirks. It healed something in me.
At 60, I began learning Italian — not for work, but so I could sing opera in its native language. I also learned how to live alone without feeling lonely. I read poetry aloud each evening, not to perfect my diction, but to quiet my soul.
At 70, I returned to the Shakespearean stage — something I once believed I had aged out of. But this time, I had nothing to prove. I stood on those boards with stillness, and audiences felt that. I was no longer performing. I was simply being.
At 80, I took up watercolour painting. I painted flowers from my garden, old hats from my youth, and faces I remembered from the London Underground. Each painting was a quiet memory made visible.
Now, at 95, I write letters by hand. I’m learning to bake rye bread. I still breathe deeply every morning. I still adore laughter — though I no longer try to make anyone laugh. I love the quiet more than ever.
I’m writing this to tell you something simple:
Growing older is not the closing act. It can be the most exquisite chapter — if you let yourself bloom again.
Let these years ahead be your TREASURE YEARS.
You don’t need to be famous. You don’t need to be flawless.
You only need to show up — fully — for the life that is still yours.
With love and gentleness,
Patricia Routledge
*****
Once more, rest in peace. 🤍