The article begins: “Mohammed Abu Al-Qumsan had just picked up birth certificates for his newly-born twins when he found out they had been killed, along with his wife and her mother, by an Israeli strike on the Gaza apartment where they were sheltering.”
There’s more detail about the attack (tank shell) and a photo of the grieving man.
I had landlords like that, it was fantastic. The rental market was super hot at the time, and finding this flat was like a miracle. Eventually I had to suggest that they increase my rent, lol - it was ridiculously low. I was plied with cakes and fine Polish vodka every rent day. When I left they both cried, and said I was like a daughter to them.
Scotland, hands down. I feel so lucky to be living here. I was only going to stay three years & then go back to New Zealand and settle down. Thirty-five years later I’m still here. I fell in love with the hills - and the freedom to walk on them - the lochs, the ancient ruins. But most of all I fell in love with the people. Their craic, their warmth and craziness, their generosity, their music. I love that you can talk to anyone and you’ll often hear an amazing life story.
I love things like this: https://www.dailyrecord.co.uk/news/scottish-news/anti-deportations-group-issues-guide-24107754
I love the cultural richness that’s come from successive waves of immigration, from Italy, India & Pakistan, China, Poland and more.
I love the food. I love haggis and Arbroath smokies and Aberdeen butteries and shortbread and oatcakes and Tunnocks caramel wafers.
And least I forget, yes, I love the weather.
Vanuatu is one of the best places I’ve ever been. Really interesting people.
I was on a work trip back in the 80s that took me to one of the northern islands of Vanuatu. Our plane landed on a football field, that’s how remote our destination was. After we set up camp, someone said they’d heard there was a teacher from New Zealand in the nearby village. Well I’m a New Zealander too, so off I went to meet her. Within the first few minutes we had worked out that not only were we originally from the same small town… she was my older brother’s first girlfriend.
But actually because NZ has a small population and we all travel a lot, it’s not as mad a coincidence as all that. It sometimes feels like we are all just a couple of degrees of separation from each other. “Oh you’re from Oamaru? Do you know XY?” “Not really, but one of my cousins works for his sister, ZY.”
Top tip: take the lid off before using.
Anecdotally from some article I read, on average the protesters are 40+ year old white men who you would find in wetherspoons 6 pints in on a wednesday morning
Was this the article? https://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/article/2024/aug/07/rioter-southport-jailed-far-right
I looked at the photos and thought, what a bunch of losers. Read the article and sure enough, losers.
I had this issue with an Android recently - but it was my own phone, an old one I wanted to test a SIM on. I couldn’t remember the PIN, couldn’t even recall having a PIN for this phone. I had to dig deep through the tech forums to find a solution, but got there eventually. And yes, I read that over and over during my search, “it’s for your security”. Argh!
Thanks for posting this, it’s truly helpful. I’m trying similar methods with a few friends who have lots of wonderful qualities but also some weird bigotries. The hardest thing is controlling my anger - their views have real, damaging consequences for people who have done them no harm, whom they have never even met. But you’re right, an angry reproach feels like an attack and can have the opposite effect.
In the UK I’m paying about £1.41 to £1.45 per litre. I’m no good at maths sorry, you’ll have to do the calculations.
That’s an excellent idea! I’ll mention it to her.
A friend has a notebook next to her computer with all her passwords in it. Initially I was horrified - what if you’re burgled? - but actually it’s genius. Much more secure than letting a browser remember them, and she doesn’t even need to memorise a Bitwarden password.
Same in France, though they’ve loosened up a bit. Used to be saints names only.
Nope, I’m old and have evolved into an 11am friend. I keep hearing about how old people are out of bed at sparrow fart and get stuff done, but it’s never happened to me.
Five books about the Taliban might help: https://fivebooks.com/category/world/asia/afghanistan/books-taliban/
They’re also deeply afraid of women.
This happens with my hearing aids. They cost a small fortune, but the audiologist won’t do anything about it because it’s intermittent - I can never show it happening. “The charging case must be dirty” etc. The manufacturer, Phonak, says any fault reporting must be done through the retailer. It seems to happen mainly when I’ve got something on where I really really need to be able to hear properly, or when I want to use Bluetooth to listen to music.
AAAARRRRRRGHHHHHHH is putting it mildly. My fury knows no bounds.
I just discovered Alexandrite today! It’s very easy on the eye.
Back in the late 1970s friend and I decided to hitchhike through Europe - we were living in London. We got zero rides from Calais and ended up catching a train to Paris, arriving at nearly midnight. The hotels near the station were too expensive, and we were sitting in the gutter looking at a map when a young man asked if he could help.
He said he knew where there were cheaper hotels, and offered to walk us there. He was charming, funny and warm, and we had a great conversation as we walked. After a mile or so he said, well this is crazy, why don’t you come and stay at my place? My mother won’t mind.
He took us to a grand Paris apartment, like from a film. His mother was already in bed, but she called out instructions for putting fresh sheets on the sofas. Hearing that we hadn’t eaten all day, he took us out for a meal at a couscous restaurant nearby (it was after 1am by now). He explained that he had to leave early in the morning because he taught at a school for special needs children outside the city, but that his mother would give us breakfast.
And that is what happened - she was charming and warm, and acted as if it was perfectly normal to feed two random foreigners her son had brought home in the middle of the night.
I’ve loved Paris ever since.
I just watched that BBC doco about the guy, blood-freezing stuff. The way he worked his way up from being a minor prince to de facto king… yikes.