Sad news. Another British manufacturing icon bites the dust: Denby Pottery.
For decades, British manufacturing has been in decline. It used to be the envy of the world. Cheap foreign imports, high production costs and lack of government support towards ‘made in Britain’ isn’t just destroying British manufacturing, it’s also destroying communities built around these industries.
When British made businesses die, part of our economic and industrial spirit dies with it. It’s time for the government to actually do something about this.
I’m a way bigger fan of old school friendships. The type where you just say the name and place and just turn up. No ‘check ins’ and rescheduling. Just go, do, laugh
This is completely and utterly shameful.
I’m sorry this happened to you and @DrHWazir, Aadam. This flag 🇬🇧 belongs as much to you as me.
@TalkTV owe you an apology.
By the way, we do have doctors to come to the UK to work in the NHS - and we’re lucky to have them.
At my age, almost all doctors who are still working are chronologically junior to me, but this is just gratuitous from the Health Secretary. Solidarity with our resident doctor colleagues for the next few days.
Seven dogs stolen from their owners have gone viral after escaping from an illegal transport truck and making their way home.
They traveled around 17 km together, led by a corgi across highways and fields, now safely back with their respective owners..🐶🐾🥺❤️
if you have a window that gets afternoon light, please sit in it. just once. with nothing in your hands. that light traveled 93 million miles specifically to find you.
Anonymous
I run a small bakery. Woman came in every Friday morning. Same order. Two blueberry muffins. One coffee. Always sat at the corner table. Read her book. Stayed an hour. Did this for three years. Then she stopped coming. After two months I got worried.
Found her number in our loyalty program. Called. She answered. Voice weak. “Oh. Hi. I’ve been meaning to cancel that.” “Are you okay? You haven’t been in.” Long pause. “I have cancer. Stage four. I’m in hospice now.
Those Friday mornings were my favorite part of the week. But I can’t make it anymore.”
My heart broke. “What if I brought Friday to you?” Silence. Then crying. “You’d do that?” “Every Friday. Same time. Same order.”
Showed up that Friday. She was in a hospital bed in her living room. So thin. But she smiled when she saw those muffins. We sat. She told me about her week. Her family. Her life. I listened. Just like at the bakery. Did this for six weeks. Every Friday.
Last Friday she could barely stay awake. But she held that muffin. Took one bite. “Best thing I’ve tasted all week.”
She passed on Monday. Her daughter called. “Mom’s last words were about you. She said ‘tell the baker thank you. Fridays kept me human until the end.’”
Went to her funeral. Her daughter hugged me. “You gave her normal when everything else was hospitals and pain. You gave her Fridays.”
Now I deliver to three hospice patients. Every Friday.
Because sometimes a muffin isn’t just a muffin. It’s dignity. It’s routine. It’s proof that someone still sees you as you. Not as sick. Just as you.
I own a duplex. My tenant downstairs is a single mom with a newborn. Rent is due on the 1st. It was the 5th, and I hadn't heard from her. Usually, I send a late notice. It's a business, right? But I went down and knocked instead. She opened the door holding a crying baby. She looked like she hadn't slept in a week. "I'm so sorry," she panicked. "My maternity leave was unpaid and my car broke down. I have $200. I can get the rest by Friday." I looked around her apartment. It was bare. She had sold her couch. "Keep the $200," I said. "In fact, don't worry about rent this month." She stopped crying and stared at me. "What?" "Take the month," I said. "Buy groceries. Fix the car. We'll start fresh next month." I lost $1,200 that day. But the look of pure relief on that mother's face? Worth every single penny. A lease is a contract, but humanity should always be the fine print.