MrsDoyle

For Brits: Walmart bought ASDA in 1999. It’s sold most of it since then but still has a 10% stake.

Foraging bees will fly a few miles from their hive, but I’m not sure if they’d bother looking for flowers on top of tall buildings.

That’s a great read, thanks. I was already put off submarine travel by the Kursk disaster but this has added another layer of “no thanks”.

That dog wants you to move in. Can’t you take a hint?

In the phrase “to get off scot-free”, the word scot has nothing to do with Scotland or the Scottish. It’s an Old English word meaning fine or penalty.

I once overheard a tour guide confidently tell a group of visitors to Edinburgh that the phrase was coined after one of the “grave robbers” Burke and Hare became a witness for the prosecution and was released. Burke and Hare were actually Irish, and they were murderers.

I thought mine was Torchy the Battery Boy, but it turns out it was a puppet show. A very weird puppet show.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Torchy_the_Battery_Boy

So, I’d plump for Rupert the Bear. Our family didn’t have spare cash for frivolities like comics, but when we moved house one time the previous family had left behind a Rupert album. The covers had been torn off, but I loved that book.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rupert_Bear

It seems Rupert isn’t forgotten…

https://followersofrupertbear.co.uk/

Buried in that site: “In 1985 the first of what has become a series of facsimiles was introduced. For reasons of political correctness, there are several years for which no facsimile has been produced and the 1970 annual was the last one for which a facsimile was produced.”

Rupert the Racist Bear, I’m guessing… oh dear. Back to watching Bluey.

I use FeedFlow for a local beekeeping guy’s blog - he posts by email, so having an RSS feed means I don’t have to go ratching through looking for a particular article, I can just scroll.

https://www.feedflow.dev/

Comedian Volodymyr Zelenskyy vs the then president of Ukraine Petro Poroshenko.

From Wiki: “In place of traditional campaign rallies, [Zelenskyy] conducted stand-up comedy routines across Ukraine with his production company Kvartal 95.”

So I guess that counts…

I’m 73 and have actually done some death planning! I’m donating my hideous corpse to the local medical school. I had to fill in a load of forms and persuade my best pal to be the contact. When I pop my clogs they’ll whisk me away - unless I’m too mangled or die of something contagious - and keep me for a few years of anatomy lessons. Once they’re done with me I’ll be cremated, and they’ll put a plaque with my name on in their garden of remembrance.

Mum died at 90, which suddenly seems close. My big brother has dementia, my little sister is speed-running cancer. It’s all focused my mind.

Edit to add I didn’t expect to make it past 40. Sex and drugs and rock and roll…

Cape Horn is the southern tip of South America. The southern tip of Africa is the Cape of Good Hope.

On one of my first days in Edinburgh, back in 1990, I came out of Waverley station to find myself facing a battle royal between Hibs casuals and mounted police. I’d never seen anything like it, I was too stunned to be scared. I was later educated by locals on the topic and realised I probably should have been a little bit scared.

https://www.thefreelibrary.com/CCS+Capital+City+Service%3B+FEARED+HIBS+CASUALS+WHO+MOVED+UP+TO+THE+BIG…-a0625220870

I once watched a crow teasing a group of rabbits. It would creep up behind one and peck its bottom. The rabbit would leap straight up in the air in fright. It worked every time - peck, boing! Peck, boing! I can only guess the crow found it hilarious, I know I did. Now and then one of the rabbits would try to chase the crow away, equally funny to see.

I hate grocery shopping online worse than going to the supermarket. I was forced into it this year through injury and it was frustrating. The fruit and veg were never as fresh as when I chose them myself, some random item was subbed, and somehow a big slab of chocolate had been added to the order at 2am.

I was told our dog had gone to live on a farm. For a long time afterwards I pestered to be allowed to visit the dog on said farm, and was told it would be too upsetting for him. “He wouldn’t understand.”

Years later I found out the dog had run away, gotten into a field, and killed a sheep. He was identified by the farmer, and someone official came to our house and took him away to be shot.

I wish they had just told me he’d been run over.

Not in my case - I’m 73 and despite physical challenges I’m happier than I’ve ever been. What makes me happy is having wonderful friends, plenty of interests and all my marbles.

I look back on my anxious 20-something self with pity. Why was I so bloody worried what everyone would think of me?

My late dog, a rescue greyhound, was a big chucklehead with low impulse control. The first few walks with him on the lead were a nightmare. What worked was turning the leash into a brake. If he pulled on it, I stopped. When he stopped pulling, I carried on. It took about a fortnight of twice-daily walks for him to understand (he was really not very bright), but in the end it clicked. He became the master of putting the most exquisitely gentle pressure on the leash to try and hurry me along without turning on the “brakes”.

Also, any can that is domed - something inside is making gas that is pushing on the metal. Not good. Very, very bad.

Carrot in a Box

A friend has a pair of Raybans she bought 25 years ago. One day last year she dropped them and they were run over by a trailer with a boat on it. She was pretty upset until she realised they weren’t damaged, not even scuffed. I witnessed this, it was incredible. Worth the expense, I would say.