𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦
Jeremy Clarkson has never pretended to be anything other than exactly what he is
Brutally honest. No oil painting. A pot belly, a lifelong smoker, a drinker. Not exactly the modern alpha male or is he?
And somehow that is the whole point
I have watched him for most of my life
First as a motoring journalist who could make you want a car you would never own and never need
Then as something bigger
The loudest, funniest, most unfiltered mouthpiece the ordinary person ever had
A man who said the thing everyone was thinking while the rest of television tiptoed around it
From Top Gear he built something that should not have worked
Three middle aged men, The Stig, a track and a chemistry you cannot manufacture
James May the patient one
Richard Hammond the brave one
And Clarkson the force of nature dragging both of them into chaos and somehow back out again
When it all fell apart at the BBC he could have disappeared
The fracas was not his finest hour and he never pretended it was
He owned it, apologized and carried on
No reinvention, no groveling tour, no carefully managed comeback
He just kept being himself and let the work speak
The move to Amazon and The Grand Tour proved something I think a lot of people missed
The format was never the magic
The men were
You can take three friends out of a studio and drop them anywhere on earth and the loyalty between them travels with them
But it is Clarkson's Farm where the whole picture finally comes into focus
Here is a man with nothing left to prove walking into a field he barely understands and refusing to fake competence he does not have
He has run that farm at break even and then at an outright loss in full public view
No editing it into a success story
No pretending the numbers work when they do not
His farm manager hands him one brutal truth after another and he sits there and takes it
A whole season swallowed by drought even after he leaned into robotics and the most advanced farming money could buy
Technology was supposed to be the answer and the weather did not care
He showed that too
Most people would have cut it
And through all of it he has done something quietly remarkable
He has dragged the plight of the British farmer into the light
The paperwork, the council, the margins that vanish, the weather that ruins a year of work in a week
People who had never thought about where their food comes from suddenly cared because he made them care
And then there is the part nobody warned me about
Men who raise animals for meat and still love them
Who name them, worry about them, sit with them
Who treat them with respect and dignity right up to the moment they cannot keep them
And feel the full weight of sending them off
He does not hide that
He lets the camera sit in the discomfort of it
The grief of a man who knows the deal he made and still finds it hard
That is not weakness
That is honesty most people are far too afraid to show
We live in an age that rewards the polished, the curated, the carefully built personal brand
And here is a scruffy, swearing, chain smoking farmer who has done the opposite of all of it and won
He stayed exactly who he was while the world begged him to become a product
That is the whole secret
There is no act
There never was
And that is exactly why we keep watching
Praying for a full recovery mate, looking forward to another season of Clarkson's Farms!
Size matters! Contrast of a luxurious Emirates A380 and a LCC Ryanair 737: Nice catch by Airport Action a month ago at Birmingham (full video on HD in the comments, including the take-offs) ⬇️
This morning a few people saw my daughter walking to school & me following behind her. Some asked me why I did that & others gave me a stank stare.
I’m very well aware she’s only 10. And she walked Because I told her to.
Because she forgot how to treat adults, So I told her to walk.
Because she mistakenly associated her size with her authority, So I told her to walk.
Because her behavior towards me & other adults is unacceptable, So I told her to walk
Until she can appreciate the free ride to/from school. Respect and listen to me. I'm the mom who is watching to know that she's safe. I'm also the mom who is not here to be her friend. I'm the mom who is okay with her child being angry at her sometimes. I'm the mom who is desperate to leave this world better than I found it, through the people I'm bringing up into it.
A lot of people are so afraid to hurt their kid's feelings, but she'll only be mad at me for a little while.
I'm more afraid of my kid growing up to be an entitled asshole.
We're not here to be their friends. We're here to make sure they grow up to become a friend worth having. So yeah she was walking. Thinking. Reflecting. Maturing. Learning. Growing.
And I'm watching. ❤️
~Bringer of rain
"My name's Raymond. I'm 73. I work the parking lot at St. Joseph's Hospital. Minimum wage, orange vest, a whistle I barely use. Most people don't even look at me. I'm just the old man waving cars into spaces.
But I see everything.
Like the black sedan that circled the lot every morning at 6 a.m. for three weeks. Young man driving, grandmother in the passenger seat. Chemotherapy, I figured. He'd drop her at the entrance, then spend 20 minutes hunting for parking, missing her appointments.
One morning, I stopped him. "What time tomorrow?"
"6:15," he said, confused.
"Space A-7 will be empty. I'll save it."
He blinked. "You... you can do that?"
"I can now," I said.
Next morning, I stood in A-7, holding my ground as cars circled angrily. When his sedan pulled up, I moved. He rolled down his window, speechless. "Why?"
"Because she needs you in there with her," I said. "Not out here stressing."
He cried. Right there in the parking lot.
Word spread quietly. A father with a sick baby asked if I could help. A woman visiting her dying husband. I started arriving at 5 a.m., notebook in hand, tracking who needed what. Saved spots became sacred. People stopped honking. They waited. Because they knew someone else was fighting something bigger than traffic.
But here's what changed everything, A businessman in a Mercedes screamed at me one morning. "I'm not sick! I need that spot for a meeting!"
"Then walk," I said calmly. "That space is for someone whose hands are shaking too hard to grip a steering wheel."
He sped off, furious. But a woman behind him got out of her car and hugged me. "My son has leukemia," she sobbed. "Thank you for seeing us."
The hospital tried to stop me. "Liability issues," they said. But then families started writing letters. Dozens. "Raymond made the worst days bearable." "He gave us one less thing to break over."
Last month, they made it official. "Reserved Parking for Families in Crisis." Ten spots, marked with blue signs. And they asked me to manage it.
But the best part? A man I'd helped two years ago, his mother survived, came back. He's a carpenter. Built a small wooden box, mounted it by the reserved spaces. Inside? Prayer cards, tissues, breath mints, and a note,
"Take what you need. You're not alone. -Raymond & Friends"
People leave things now. Granola bars. Phone chargers. Yesterday, someone left a hand-knitted blanket.
I'm 73. I direct traffic in a hospital parking lot. But I've learned this: Healing doesn't just happen in operating rooms. Sometimes it starts in a parking space. When someone says, "I see your crisis. Let me carry this one small piece."
So pay attention. At the grocery checkout, the coffee line, wherever you are. Someone's drowning in the little things while fighting the big ones.
Hold a door. Save a spot. Carry the weight no one else sees.
It's not glamorous. But it's everything."
Let this story reach more hearts....
Credit: Mary Nelson
Introverts are not boring, their idea of fun different. Crowds, noise, and meaningless small talk is not their thing. They like it quiet. Calm. Slow. A cozy little place, 2 people, low-key music, good food, and deep conversations. Peace over chaos. That's what they want.
Parents should be allowed to take their children out of school for a very limited number of days per year, over reasons they choose.
Let's show a bit of common sense here. The prices are so wildly different out of term time, it is often the difference between a family being able to afford a decent holiday abroad, or not go at all.
Will a child missing a week of school a year damage their education? Perhaps, a little. Will that quality time spent with their family more than compensate? Yes, yes it will.
And that is a decision for the parents to take, not the state.
I have pushed the Department on this, with zero progress. They just don't want to know.
Let's remember - MPs have very generous time off from Westminster, timed to coincide with the school holidays.
Others do not have that same luxury, particularly in areas that are reliant on tourism - like my constituency
All of this from the same people who shut schools for months when the virus posed almost zero risk to children, and were desperate to do it for longer. Forcing boys and girls to learn from a kitchen table, and many had no access to proper outdoor space.
THAT did far more damage to children's education than a few days away in the sun with their family.
PLEASE. Let's just show a modicum of common sense, FOR ONCE.
If parents want to take their child out of school for a limited period of time, very occasionally, as they believe that experience will benefit their son or daughter?
I say that's their choice.