Blue Witch

Thought for the day

I had a sense of going into the Land of Overwhelm. I haven’t visited that happy destination for a while, and really don’t feel like spending much time there, as it's pretty much a busman's holiday for neurotics.

- bob

Thought for the day

I was so happy in my life at the time that I hadn't a thing to write songs about.

- Nanci Griffith 29.07.08

Other Voices, Other Rooms

Being now officially too old and too decrepit to go to large concerts any more (can't do the standing, the heat, or the people), we've found a nice little way to see one of our favourites tonight. Dinner and music seems so much more civilised than fighting drunken crowds in large venues. I've done a couple of spells in case the service is as bad as some of the reviews say ;)

After 4 years, 2 months and 29 days I finally have a cheque for almost £5,000 sitting on my desk Proving that one can prove a case for end0wment mis-5e11ing, if one persists, and provided that one has every piece of paper ever produced on the subject by anyone. And provided that one has an excellent command of the English language and is unafraid to point out when people are blatantly lying by deliberately semantically mis-representing things written 17 years ago.

My 'compensation' simply puts me back in the position I would have been in, had I bought a repayment m0rtgage. It is 20% of the product value, 80% of the way through the product term, so shows you just what dreadful products m0rtgage end0wments are (and mine is with one of the consistently top five performing companies). I feel very sorry for people who bought them in good faith and have to meet huge shortfalls. Luckily for me, the financial industry has been making up my shortfall (and then some) by its contribution via the 0% Balance Transfer/Offsetting/Stoozing Game. I call it Revenge.

However, the experience has left me in no doubt at all that the financial services industry are biger sharks than even I, in my most cynical moment, would have believed possible, and that their regulators have absolutely no teeth and no power or willingness to enforce their eventual judgements in a timely manner.

My one piece of advice - don't ever trust financial advisors. Do your own research (possible now, wasn't then). If you *must* use a financial advisor, use one from a large company, not a one-man band or small company, because, if they screw up and you complain to their regulator (toothless wonder), the small set-up will fight you tooth and nail (lying bastards), whereas large companies simply roll over and pay out.

Now to complain about the complaints procedure...

Summer at last

The outside wall thermometer said 41 degrees mid-afternoon. That's on a west facing wall. The one with its sensor in the shade said 34. It's still 27. The lowest it's been in the last 24 hours is 17. Everybody I've spoken to today is moaning about the heat. I love it.

Sometime yesterday evening, having heard of the predicted hottest day of the year, thinking about how unbearably hot it would be in his office, Mr BW decided to have an unscheduled day's holiday today.

And at 9am this morning he decided to paint the south gable end of the house. At that point the sun hadn't come over the top of the tall poplars, so it was still in the shade and cool. By the time he'd moved all the pots and chairs away from the wall, the sun had uncovered itself and it was hot. I think he may now have sunstroke. He's red with magnolia blobs.

I've been making rhubarb chutney and rhubarb creme brulee and pickled nasturtium seeds (like capers it said in the recipe, we'll see) and spiced okra and onion bhajis and turning white material blue in preparation for Friday.

Mr BW finally heard the din I have to put up with during the school holidays from the screaming brats who moved in two years ago a few hundred yards away. They're bad at weekends, but worse in the week. I've been planning an offensive for a while. I don't see why our peace and tranquility should be ruined by ignorant incomers who have no repsect for anybody or anything but the holy pound. I wanted to go and tell them that we're not going to tolerate their bloody kids screaming as if they're being murdered all summer.

I wanted to go but sent him instead. I am sensible sometimes. They were totally silent after and he got profuse apologies from their mother. If I'd gone I'd probably be in the local police station now... I don't expect it will last, mind, but.

Fans at dusk required I think.

Pastel View in a Coven Garden

BW is currently...

... washing a large number of donated f1eeces in the current Coven over-supply of free solar-heated water... 34 degrees? I'm loving it :) Long may it last. But it won't.

I was always told that you should spin f1eeces dirty, as from the sheep. Until last weekend when Original Art Tutor BW pointed out that sheep were the one animal one couldn't keep organically. Somehow the prospect of raw f1eece lost its charm after she'd told me about the chemical treatment necessary to combat b1owfly. The instructions for administration apparently include the line, "Harmful by skin absorption, wear protective clothing." I am ever more grateful that I don't consume dead animals.

So it's into the pink tub and wash wash wash.

I'm laughing my head off at Golden Brown's own giving him the boot. If his own don't want him (22.54% swing from a majority of 13,507) after all the 'bribes'/fiscal advantages we English pay his countrymen, then it's definitely time we had an election. I, for one, can't wait.

Mr BW, newly returned from son bureau francais, tells me that fuel is almost as expensive in France as in England, for a change. Except that diesel is only a couple of cents a litre more than petrol. He also found little to entertain him amongst the English kids misbehaving on the plane on the way out, and the sleek, elegant, French, middle-aged women in beautiful white short-sleeved dresses with gorilla-furry armpits, and Stan5ted passport control froggy queue-jumpers on the way back.

Talking of planes... there may be a very few of you who remember my Spells on Qantas back at the beginning of 2004? That plane that a lump fell off yesterday... was the one on which I got most cross with them. At the time I said I'd never fly Qantas with their old tired planes and rude crews ever again (and that includes BA as they code-share with Qantas to Australia so you can never be sure that you won't be getting on a plane with Quite Appalling Nay Terribly Abysmal Service).

In other news, it was suggested to me today at a place I go to regularly that I might make a good 5upernanny. Many a true word is spoken in jest. I had to inform the suggestive people that I was actually approached several years ago for said role but declined as I am neither stick-insect-thin nor glamorous as TV shows decree. My reputation there has acceded to a whole new level now. I'm hoping that the behaviour of brought-along brats might too.

I'm also laughing at all the TV and radio programmes around saying that you need to be Value to combat the 'credit crunch'. Remember you've been reading it here for the last 5.5 years folks...

The Friday Question

Watches - analogue, digital, or other?

The Answer

To yesterday's baby and egg question is that both of them were huge.

Double yolked eggs are usually around 50% bigger than average sized eggs from the same breed.

And one-time-long-ago-blogger-in-these-parts Mr CBS's second sprog was 11lbs 12oz (2lbs heavier than his first, who was already large), delivered normally on Monday lunchtime, 12 days late and hours before Mrs CBS was to be induced. He tells me that Mrs CBS managed it with minimal tearing (no stitches required) and on gas and air up until about half an hour before he was born. Rather her than me! Both doing well I understand.

Regular readers might remember Dave's recent guest post on choosing names. Now Cloudlet 2 needs a blog name that's related to his brother's (Cirrus). buddy1 suggested Mackerel, but he would as he's an obsessive fisherman, and that makes me think of fish rather than clouds and skies.

I suggest Cumulus, unless the CBS's are planning another, in which case that would be better kept for the 3rd.

So... ideas/views anyone? When you've finished wincing.

New born and new laid

Yesterday this popped into my in-box:

And this popped into my egg box:

In the werid and wonderful way that my mind functions (I was going to put works, but then thought better of it as that might be disputed), I saw a great similarity between them. What?

Mother unknown on one, but father known to us on the other. Who?

Thought for the day

In all creativity, we destroy and rebuild the world, and at the same time we inevitably rebuild and reform ourselves.

- Rollo May, 1985

(There are some lovely phrases in that link eg "May believed the awakening of sexual freedoms can lead modern society to dodge awakenings at higher levels. May suggests that the only way to turn around the cynical ideas that characterize our generation is to rediscover the importance of caring for another, which May describes as the opposite of apathy." Interesting ideas.)

Blast from the past

Remember the good old days of blogging when it was OK to post quizzes and things? Before the internet police and the incursion of the mainstream media changed how it went?

For a quick trip down memory lane (because I have a hundred posts I want to write but need to do some other urgent thigs first), here's one that amused me enormously (far too enormously actually) the other day (via):

Which Star Trek character are you?

You are Deanna Troi

You are a caring and loving individual.

You understand people's emotions and you are able to comfort and counsel them.

Deanna Troi ....................... 75%

Jean-Luc Picard ................. 60%

Spock ............................... 60%

What about you?

Things I have learnt this weekend

1. One can have all one's 5pinning problems solved and confidence restored in 5 minutes by Original Excellent Art Tutor who will one day pop up again in a totally different context.

2. One can instantly change bad attitude from checkout operators in supermarkets by saying, "Good job for you that I'm not mystery shopping today, because you'd have just scored zero for that... and you know what that means..." (I did once do supermarket mystery shopping so know the format)

3. One can get non-disabled people to move from disabled parking bays on public roads and make them unnecessarily grateful to you by catching them arriving and saying, "I hope you don't mind me saying, but the council parking attendant is in the next street heading this way and he did me for £80 for parking where you are last week..." (and the campaign continues)

4. One can get satisfaction for mouldy burger buns sold to Mr BW for his charity event and still 2 days within best before date if one ensures the flash is 'on' on one's camera and very slowly and very deliberately takes a photo of the noxious returned products, a photo of the completed complaint sheet, and a photo of the store deputy who is giving you grief because you don't have the receipt as it's 25 miles away in someone else's pocket, and you don't know exactly how many rolls were bought because you didn't buy them, and someone had thrown some away in disgust, and you walk away after 18 minutes because they can't use the electronic purchase tracking system, saying, "I haven't got all day, I have people to collect from a train, I'll take it up with your Head Office and Environmental Health instead..." (telephone message apologises profusely and says please go in and satisfaction = full refund plus bunch of flowers and bottle of wine for the hassle; Mr BW may yet extract more)

5. Visiting Townies can quickly be trained to advanced standard to assist with necessary Coven Operational Tasks (viz apple picking, deadheading, jarring apple and blackcurrant jelly, ungluing kitten eyes, inspecting Stripey Buzzy Familiars) if one feeds them sufficient fats and carbohydrates to cause obesity and diabetes and allows them to play with one's kittens. For a Witch who preaches and practices healthy eating, I've fed a hell of a lot of unhealthy goodies (baddies) to a hell of a lot of people in the last 10 days...

6. Witchy Home-Made Elderflower Cordial (with non-Witchy added freshly-picked raspberry garnish) cannot kill an XDA, despite initial beliefs.

7. Some spells have even better outcomes than one expects :)

Call this summer?

Bloody raining again today already.

Poor Mr BW and Mi1dred. Off to flip burgers for football teams all day.

Meanwhile I shall be cosily sitting in a village hall playing with my fleece.

The Friday Questions

1. Banning teenage drivers from drinking any alcohol.

Good thing or bad thing?

(Info here. Synopsis: drivers aged 17 to 19 had 1,080 drink-drive accidents in 2005; drivers under 21 account for just 3 per cent of the driving population but are responsible for over 12 per cent of all convictions for driving under the influence of drink or drugs; adolescent binge drinkers are twice as likely as their peers to be dependent on alcohol or taking illicit drugs by the time they reach 30; among young drivers who drink up to the present limit of 80mg per 100ml of blood, the chances of an accident are two and a half times greater for teenagers than for older people. There is already a zero limit for young and novice drivers in 14 European countries as well as in several Canadian provinces and Australian states.)

2. Banning all drivers from drinking any alcohol.

Good thing or bad thing?

(The drink-driving limit in many European countries is already lower than ours at 50mg per 100ml of blood.)

If it's Wednesday it must be b3ach hut5

I seem to be developing a thing for coastal capers on Wednesdays.

Last week the slums (pictured above), this week the posh bit of the East Coast.

Last week was a quick run along the prom (such as it was) in the pouring rain (best beachside loos I've ever been in mind, and the many men in and out of theirs seemed to think so too and were viewing me, sitting in my car pointing my camera in various directions while waiting for the time to my appointment to pass, with alarm), this week it's a charabanc outing with the Nice Ladies.

Well, not exactly a charabanc because there wouldn't be room in the Nice Lady's b3ach hut for a charabanc-full, but, a few old dears and a couple of cakes nonetheless. Hopefully it won't rain.

Next I'll be wanting to buy one. The BW Blue one pictured at the top, of course. Is this a sign of something?

Lorry lolly

I'm getting increasingly annoyed at the way in which HGV drivers are behaving on the dual carriageway roads round here.

Yes, I know that diesel is £1.32 and upwards a litre (yes, we've just broken the £6 gallon), and I know that many transport companies are on fixed-price contracts negotiated before the oil-producing nations of the world started down their path of world domination (aside - I heard on R4 the other day that there are more oil reserves under Russia than under Saudi, so remember to put Russia into the China / India future world domination matrix) meaning that it is costing hauliers more to deliver loads than they are being paid, but, that does not give them the right to drive around dangerously in lengthy nose-to-bumper convoys, slipstreaming each other to save fuel.

In the past couple of months, I've regularly seen 6+ vehicle convoys. Last week I saw a 22 vehicle convoy on the A12. This made it totally impossible for anyone to move from the second (outside) lane to get off at junctions, unless they'd somehow realised about 2 miles before that the HGV drivers were playing these games.

I could see many people ahead of me having to overshoot the junction they wanted as none of the trucks were letting them in, but I was in the sort of mood where I felt like taking on something 100 times my size. And I didn't want to have to wait for the next junction as it would have meant going 15 miles out of my way. So, I stuck on a left-turn indicator and slowed down to the same speed as the convoy (just over 50 as it was up an incline), stuck my hand on my horn to get attention, and, miraculously, a slightly larger gap opened up for me. I then slowed down even more to allow another half dozen cars in front of me, so they could get off too. Matey in the HGV started hooting and making rude hand signals at me then, so I shook my head slowly and did a royal wave in return. It's at times like this that I'd love a linked-to-my-thoughts display board in the back of my car.

I've also recently noticed cars 3 feet from HGV bumpers, presumably also slipstreaming to save fuel/money. I just did a quick Google search and found that, yes, it's something being talked about on the motoring forums (no link as it's a life-threatening practice that should not be tried). I know fuel is expensive, but coffins are more expensive.

But, are the traffic police interested in any of this? Of course not. This complete disregard is all part of our useless Governmint's transport policy, I'm sure.

36 hours old

A boy and a girl we think.

Mi1dred's 75th Birthday

Guest Post from Mi1dred

I'm very excited.

It's Happy Birthday to Me Day!
I'm 75 today.

I've invited some friends for tea and croquet on the lawn this afternoon.

BW got Mr BW to ask me what I'd like for my Birthday Tea and I said chocolate cake. I really wanted to say lemon cake, but I didn't dare. Mr BW might not have mended my little, erm, incontinence problem if I hadn't said chocolate. We're having tea like in the 1930s (lots of carbs, oil and sugar), when I was a small car! Oh, I still am...

And guess what I got for a 75th birthday present?

Yes, Debster, for once you're right.

Kittens :)

The Dark Tabby Familiar had at least two dark tabby kittens on an impossible-to-get-to shelf a yard from my front wing around half past six this morning. I suppose I've got the joy of tiny sharp claws all over my old body to look forward to *rolls tyres*.

I'm very excited. Did I tell you that?

The 101st Make BW Laugh Award

Yes, after a loooong absence, it's back.

Very funny and very true. This open letter to all parents from drD did a rare thing these days and made me laugh aloud and so wins him 2 more BW Special Points.

The scoresheet (*nods right and down*) is about 5 million years out of date, so I've no idea if he has enough points for another BW Special Prize, which is just as well as Royal Mail are doing an excellent line in losing parcels I've sent lately. Incidentally, for those who don't know, Royal Mail will now only pay compensation on lost letters and parcels if you have, at minimum, a certificate of posting (which luckily I do). So, you have to queue up at a Post Office. And there's not too many of those left. Conspiracy theory probably applies: they're shutting Post Offices as they're losing more letters and packets and they don't want you to be able to claim as they're already making too much of a loss. The worst thing is, even though they will (eventually, probably) refund you the cost of the lost items (if you've enough proof: ie till receipts for every item), they won't refund the cost of the service they've failed to provide. Given that I'm currently nearly fifteen quid out of pocket on postage for items they have carelessly lost, I think I'm going to take this one to the regulator. I'm surprised no-one has before, actually.

Anyway, back to extracts from drD (and please excuse me drD, I've added some paragraphs, because it's much easier to read, so funnier, like that). You can read the whole thing here.

Given that there are far too many uncontrolled noisy brats in queues in Post Offices, it's highly apposite:

There is one thing I ask Dear Parents.

To request politely that in exchange for my various contributions to the UK financial pot, many of which are disproportionate to the services I utilise and provide you with a subsidy for the services that you utilise... you do not further burden me with having to listen to you tell me in oh so many ways about how hard it is to be a parent. I can well understand your need to vent existential angst but please vent it away from my vicinity.

Please don't attempt to explain away the appalling behaviour / exam results / attitude / dress sense / hairstyle of your child by reference to your status as a 'hardworking parent'. If you are a woman who works and you wish to describe yourself as a 'working mum' expect little sympathy from me. With the possible exception of parthenogenesis or unfortunate personal violations I believe that you may have some degree of responsibility for your present parental predicament. Yes, you did the deed.

Now please have the good grace to accept your life sentence blessing with good grace, a resigned smile, an open wallet and a profound understanding that I am not really interested. Of course, your child might actually be a darling. S/he may well be the apple of your eye. Probably your existence has been fulfilled by his or her existence. It's all profound, gooey and lovely.

For you. For me it's just one more badly behaved brat that You need to Control when it's out in public. Don't allow it to run around screaming. Tell it to shut up when it's whingeing on the bus - better still don't take it on the bus, except when I'm not there. Park your monster child transportation truck with the tinted windows in a lake, not outside my house. Teach your child to approach adults with profound respect lest they be bludgeoned with a cricket bat. You get the picture.

For you see, Dear Parent, I am childless. That part of my brain which transperceives brattishness as cute loveliness has not been activated. I am what is known in the trade as a selfish single. That's me. Pity me my lonely lifestyle. Nest empty of the perfume of tiny potties. Devoid of devotion from mini me. That's me. Loathe me if you like. I aint bovvered. Working Mums, please Work at civilising your children. Give up the notion that you can Have it All.

May I propose that your child might be happier, more loving and less likely to stab hamsters if you do not see them as a lifestyle accessory to be serviced along with the washing machine. Spend less Quality Time and spend more time. With your child. The one you gave birth to. The one who needs you to spend time with it more than anything else in the world. More than the chocolate or PS2 it whinges for. It's really whingeing for you. It needs you. This much I know.

That is all.

The Friday Question

Town or country?

We were on TV

We just saw ourselves on tonight's BBC Hampton Court Palace Flower Show coverage. No link because I'm not going to make it easy for you to see us :)

Feeling a bit exhausted and pensive right now and struggling to keep up with everything that needs doing, so blogging's at the bottom of the heap I'm afraid.

This was Mr BW's favourite thing at the show. Long-term readers will know about Mr BW and donks.

In exchange for me publishing that photo, Mr BW (although he doesn't know it yet) is going to make me one of these at the next b1acksmith course he attends:


The colours of the tiles in this garden were wonderful (not quite captured digitally):

As were the orange walls and contrast of the dark purple clematis (damn, I've forgotten what the designer told me it was called - I think it began with an 'r', I'd not seen it before, but it wasn't the one she'd originally specified) here:

The judges didn't like either of them, judging by their colourful enhancements.

In a nutshell, Hampton this year was: much more colourful than Chelsea; about vegetables, sustainability (null points to the Met Office who were having a private party at the taxpayers' expense on Monday night and, unlike absolutely everyone else, wouldn't let those of us Charity Gala goers in to their domed stand), involving kids in gardening, and far too many bronze medals. Oh and too much rain and a double rainbow. Only the double bit hasn't come out in my photos. Most odd.

More sensible info, pictures and links on Hampton Court here - which is an excellent garden-inspired blog from one of the BW regular readers and sometimes commentator.

Thought for the day

I think somehow we learn who we really are and then live with that decision.

- Eleanor Roosevelt

If it's July 7th

It must be the day of the Hampton Court Palace Flower Show Sneak Preview.

Think of me when it rains all evening, won't you? Let's hope they've learnt from last year's mud bath and have made rather better provision - 5000 tonnes of mud-absorbing woodchips, for example.

*packs wellington boots, umbrella, waterproof coat*

The Friday Question

Shopping.

Pleasure or pain?

The Friday Question Supplemental

Does anyone know how the gardeners of yesterday mended their galvanised watering cans with tiny holes (in the bottom, not the rose ;))?

Mapping the brain

Now this is what I call worthwhile and exciting research:

An international team of researchers has created the first complete high-resolution map of how millions of neural fibers in the human cerebral cortex -- the outer layer of the brain responsible for higher level thinking -- connect and communicate. Their groundbreaking work identified a single network core, or hub, that may be key to the workings of both hemispheres of the brain.

The work by the researchers from Indiana University, University of Lausanne, Switzerland, Ecole Polytechnique Fédérale de Lausanne, Switzerland, and Harvard Medical School marks a major step in understanding the most complicated and mysterious organ in the human body. It not only provides a comprehensive map of brain connections (the brain "connectome"), but also describes a novel application of a non-invasive technique that can be used by other scientists to continue mapping the trillions of neural connections in the brain at even greater resolution, which is becoming a new field of science termed "connectomics."

"This is one of the first steps necessary for building large-scale computational models of the human brain to help us understand processes that are difficult to observe, such as disease states and recovery processes to injuries," said Olaf Sporns, co-author of the study and neuroscientist at Indiana University.

For those interested in the details, the original research paper is here.

Money matters

The Nice Ladies got on to discussing money at a committee meeting last night. Their personal money as opposed to the group's money. The joy of having largely older friends is that they have long pasts and are rarely swept along by current media hysteria. Perspective.

But, I was absolutely horrified to discover that none of the eight other people present had a clue about money. Not a clue. All of them were professionals or married to professionals before they retired. Some of those professionals even worked in numerate professions. Not one of them had any idea of the interest rate currently being paid on their savings, and only three of them had spread their savings around. Everyone else had them with one company, and several had them all in one account. I didn't dare ask if it was a current account. Only three were using their annual tax-free ISA allowances. The rest didn't even know what an ISA is.

They all know that I'm a bit savvy when it comes to finance, and started asking me questions, or telling me how well their money was being managed for them. Well, according to them.

I won't go into it all, but the thing that horrified me (and I mean horrified) was the information shared by a lady whose husband was a successful farmer until he retired a couple of years ago.

"I inherited £40,000 and it's now worth £110,000, it's been so well managed by [name of large swanky fund management company]!" "£110,000?" I queried, "How long ago did you inherit the money?" "Well, it was up to £125,000 at the beginning of 2007, but, you know, they say things are bad in financial circles, so I'm happy with the £110,000 now." "But how long ago did you inherit it?" I repeated. "30 years. No, wait, 29... erm, no I think it was 30. May have even been 31." I raised my eyebrows. "What's the matter?" she said. "That doesn't sound very good to me..." I said. "Do you know how much they take from your fund in charges?" "Oh, they don't charge me, she said, we've got lots of money with them. They've been looking after all our investments since we got married. There aren't any charges!"

I've just run the figures through a compound interest calculator. I have no idea what the different interest rates over 30 years would be, and of course it will make a huge difference, but let's assume that 7% could be achieved. Given the interest rates in the 1980s, I don't think that's unreasonable. Also let's assume that the interest was only compounded once a year. There's probably a calculator site somewhere that has historical figures, but I don't know where it is and CBATG right now.

Had the money been put in an account/s earning the equivalent over the 30 years of 7%, her £40,000 would now be worth £304,490.20.

At 10% they would be worth £697,976.09
At 9% they would be worth £530,707.14
At 8% they would be worth £402,506.28
At 6% they would be worth £229,739.65
At 5% they would be worth £172,877.70
At 4% they would be worth £129,735.90
At 3% they would be worth £97,090.50

See why interest rates matter?

The actual return on the Nice Lady's £40K over 30 years is just 3.43% a year. She could have got more if she'd put it in the post office and left it alone. As it is, it's not even worth what it was then in real terms:

"In 2006, £40,000.00 from 1978 was worth:

£158,566.05 using the retail price index
£160,660.51 using the GDP deflator
£257,479.53 using the average earnings
£287,334.31 using the per capita GDP
£309,608.89 using the share of GDP."

Some fund manager has been creaming off probably 2% a year for mis-managing her money. Plus making himself nice half-million pound bonuses every year. Without even telling her that he was charging her for the privilege. Imagine how many other people are losing out because of their ignorance / fear of money managment.

My advice? Never, ever trust management of your money to financial advisors or financial institutions. Even if you've only got a few quid, there are ways of maximising its value to you.

Here is a good place to start, if you haven't already. To those who say, "But I haven't time to do that!" I say, that's because you have to spend all your time working to earn money. Manage your money better and you wouldn't have to work so hard to earn it. You could even thinking about working part-time and enjoying yourself more by spending time doing what you want to do, rather than what you have to do, without lowering your standard of living!

And don't believe that the Financial Services Authority or Financial Ombudsman Service will protect you if things go wrong if you do trust financial advisors. They may lead you to believe they do, but they don't.

Something I've only discovered in the last couple of weeks is that even if the FOS rule in your favour in a case you bring to them against a financial institution, they have no power to make the financial institution pay you the compensation they award. No teeth at all. They don't fine them, and they don't suspend their ability to practice. The only way you can actually get the compensation is if you go to court. I'll write more about that in the future, once I have finished making such a nuisance of myself with these people that sort themselves, and hopefully their systems, out, and pay up.

Not the Friday Question

I know that lots of people were (are?) into those little Moo Mini Cards, but has anyone used Moo for greetings cards or notecards?

I'm trying to work out whether they are just printed on photo paper (as Boots and other similar photo processors do) or whether they are printed on the sort of card normally used for greetings cards.

OK, I guess I could email them, but The Audience can often provide...

Fire on the mountain, run boys run...

Not a good idea to tip the contents of this latest objet addition to The Coven onto a fire though.

Objet found by Mr BW somewhere I'd already looked. He has caught the bug. Hurrah!