Glass 1/2 full/1/2 empty/completely empty days; TT/S100/BSB: Reader; Appreciates nature; Real Ale; Recovering Teacher; Grief Journey; è matters #MentalHealth

Here, there and everywhere
Joined January 2014
Exciting news! Beloved and I got married whilst on the IOM. Honoured that @racingpreach and Greg Lambert were our witnesses. Afterwards had fish n chips @porterinchippy1 then sat in a barley field to watch @S100isleofman Our perfect day.
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TTNeb retweeted
Lots of talk about the damaging effects of Folic Acid in the British food supply, some would even suggest it is poison. Who was behind its introduction? Daniel Zeichner and Gillian Merron. Zeichner played a central role in the UK’s decision to mandate the addition of folic acid to flour. As the Minister for Food Security under the Department for Environment, Food & Rural Affairs (Defra), Zeichner introduced and signed off on the Bread and Flour (Amendment) (England) Regulations 2024. Baroness Gillian Merron, the UK Minister for Patient Safety, Women's Health and Mental Health, announced new legislation to require the mandatory fortification of non-wholemeal wheat flour with folic acid to help prevent neural tube birth defects. According to Wikipedia Zeichner's father was 'an Austrian political refugee whose family fled Vienna in 1938'. Merron was chief executive of the 'Board of Deputies of British jews' from 2014 to 2021.
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Saw on another thread yesterday this is a fake that circulates every year...
The Manager of Gosport Wetherspoons states its ‘Company policy’ to not allow anyone in with a Remembrance Poppy on as it ‘could be political’. Boycott Wetherspoons.
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The Woman of the Day is the Anglo-Saxon noblewoman Godgifu of West Mercia, the only woman to remain a landholder in Britain after those robbing Normans swept in and stole everything that wasn’t nailed down (and quite a few things that were). Of course you’ve heard of her. You’ve heard of the Godiva Procession which was instituted in 1678 by Coventry Fair to commemorate the legendary ride by the Lady. Taking pity on the people of Coventry suffering grievously under her husband's oppressive taxation, she called his bluff that he would repeal the taxes if she would strip naked and ride through the streets of the town, clothed only in her long hair. She only agreed on the condition that everyone stayed indoors and shut their windows, but a tailor known ever afterwards as Peeping Tom disobeyed and was struck blind. Allegedly. It was all bunkum. Absolute bunkum. Lady Godiva’s real name was Godgifu. She married Leofric, Earl of Mercia, but both she and her husband were major philanthropists and among the most munificent of the Anglo-Saxon nobility until the Norman Conquest in 1066 (and those robbing Normans came along, etc). In Anglo-Saxon times, in laws dated around 1008 AD, women enjoyed full property rights, from peasant to nobility. They could own land, farms, houses. Upon marriage, a husband was legally required to give his wife a Morgengifu (Morning Gift): land, money, or goods, which remained her independent property that she could sell, give away, or manage as she chose. Women wrote their own wills and left property to whomever they chose including children, servants, or religious institutions, and they didn’t need their husband's permission. All that stopped after 1066. The new feudal system tied land ownership to military service, something women were barred from providing. Women became the chattels (property) of their husbands if they were married, or their fathers if they were not, a legal state known as coverture. Still, I’m sure the Normans thought they were being progressive and inclusive, two words I’ve come to loathe. But I digress. Godgifu survived the death of her husband and was mentioned in the Domesday Book, one of the few Anglo-Saxons and the only woman to remain a major landholder after the Conquest. Godgifu certainly would have ridden a horse but not in protest and certainly not minus her clothes. Still, the idea of it proved quite a crowd pleaser at Coventry Fair in 1678, even though the first fake Lady Godiva was actually a lad. Yes, I know. Some things just don’t change. In the intervening years, the myth was spiced up by the Puritans to prove a moral point but dampened down by other Protestants to make it fit for delicate ears. Never forget: the objectification of women is eternal, along with its fraternal twin, misogyny. The two generally go hand in hand. Despite several attempts to shut down the procession — in 1845, the Mayor got fed up with the crowds jostling to get a better view of her, expostulating, “It’s a disgrace”, and in 1854, the Bishop of Worcester protested against “a Birmingham whore being paraded through the streets as Lady Godiva” — it continued as a annual event until the 1960s. Godgifu’s date of birth is unknown but she died in her mid-fifties in 1067 after the Norman Conquest of 1066. The Domesday Book of 1086 notes that the lands formerly held by her had passed to others. Men of course. Chattels are property, and property cannot own property. Married women finally achieved independent taxation in their own right in 1990. Prior to that, their husbands were responsible for paying tax on their income unless she obtained his signature and consent to claim her own single person's allowance and pay tax on her own earnings. Her unearned income — such as investment or savings interest — still legally belonged to him. And of course, the "marital rape exemption" — the legal assumption that a wife could not withhold sexual consent from her husband under the marriage contract — was not formally abolished in English law until 1991. 935 years. It only took 935 years in this country to demolish the legal status and definition of Woman as Property, and despite the Supreme Court ruling, we still find ourselves having to dismantle the definition of Woman as a feeling — with political parties, Civil Service departments, with trade unions, charities, retailers, and with sporting bodies. I know many of us are tired of fighting the same old battles but keep going, sisters. “We woman suffragists have a great mission — the greatest mission the world has ever known. It is to free half the human race, and through that freedom to save the rest.” Emmeline Pankhurst, 17 October 1912.
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Join us in conversation online on 2nd December, 6.30 - 8pm GMT. We're fundraising for @eoldoulaUK Tickets: events.humanitix.com/our-dyi…
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Very pleased to see Sneck Lifter from Jennings on the Norwich Beer Festival beer list. Not had since 2017
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BEFORE 💉2021: 1 in 4 got cancer. FROM 2021: 1 in 2 got cancer. 2026: FOLIC ACID ensuring everyone gets cancer? Folic acid and undiagnosed cancer ⬇️
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DON'T FORGET LABOUR & NHS CHANGED FOLIC ACID FROM A MEDICINE TO A VITAMIN 👇SO IT COULD 'LEGALLY' POISON YOU AS ADMINISTERING MEDICINE IN FOOD IS ILLEGAL AND CARRIES 10 YEAR PRISON SENTENCES 👇👇 UNDER THE FOOD SAFETY ACT 1990.
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Replying to @foodgov
@foodgov KNEW in 2002 that people with low vit b12 - 6 MILLION - folic acid will MASK this deficiency and WILL cause NEUROLOGICAL DAMAGE. They KNOW. They've KNOWN this for 24 YEARS. They've gone from regulator to enablers just like the @MHRAgovuk did with vaccines. Complicit.
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95% of Americans had unmetabolised folic acid in their blood at fortification levels of 140mcg per 100g of flour. Labour has mandated 250mcg.... See the problem?
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🚨Two hours. Full licence. Niqab on. British kids spend months and thousands of pounds learning the roads properly. Others are being sold “pass in two hours” packages while DVSA guidance still accommodates full-face coverings on test. Impersonation cases are already rising. Foreign licence grace periods let people drive after failing. No minimum hours required. This isn’t multiculturalism. It’s a road safety failure. Fix it before the next body bag.
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On December 3, 2005, 30-year-old Swedish musician and student Annie Börjesson made her way to Glasgow Prestwick Airport in Scotland, carrying her luggage and planning to fly back home to Sweden. CCTV footage captured her walking through the airport terminal, checking her surroundings, and then—in a move that remains completely unexplained—abruptly walking back out into the freezing winter air after less than five minutes. She never checked in for her flight. The very next morning, a dog walker made a devastating discovery on Prestwick Beach, just a short distance from the airport. Annie’s body was lying on the sand near the water’s edge. Her outer jacket was missing, and her personal belongings were scattered nearby. Scottish authorities moved with surprising speed, swiftly categorizing her death as a tragic suicide or accidental drowning. Case closed. But for Annie’s family in Sweden, the official explanation made no sense—and as they fought to retrieve her belongings and review the evidence, a sinister picture began to emerge. When an independent forensic examination was conducted, the physical evidence directly contradicted the drowning ruling. Analysts discovered unexplained bruising on her body, and strangely, locks of her own hair had been hacked off and placed inside her bag. Furthermore, forensic testing revealed the presence of freshwater diatoms in her lungs—a microscopic indicator that suggested she had drowned in fresh water, not the salty ocean where her body was recovered. To make matters stranger, her phone logs and email accounts from her final days were found to be heavily altered, missing critical incoming call data and messages. The mystery deepened further when her family petitioned the Swedish government for full access to the diplomatic and police documents handed over by Scottish law enforcement. Instead of transparency, they hit a wall of state secrecy: the Swedish Foreign Ministry officially classified key investigative files regarding Annie’s death as top secret, citing national security exemptions and foreign policy sensitivities. Two decades later, Annie Börjesson’s death remains shrouded in unanswered questions, forensic discrepancies, and government silence. Was her death a tragic personal breakdown, or did she cross paths with something dangerous on her way to that terminal—leaving a secret that two nations refuse to unlock?
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TTNeb retweeted
Replying to @LeilaniDowding
Death by a thousand cuts. A little poison in everything you eat, in your shampoos and handwash, in your laundry detergent and dishwasher tablets and in your perfume. It's getting more more difficult to avoid.
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As you can see Tesco fruit also have the sprayed chemicals. But they don’t have a warning on them that the peel is not safe for consumption…. This is because Lidl is following EU label guidelines! They don’t have to give us the warnings on the UK label! They can spray whatever chemicals they want on the fruit as long as they tell us. Whereas the EU must say it’s not safe So just remember that when you zest your fruit! Or leave peel in water.
While most of us don’t eat the rind. People do zest rind for cakes, or cut slices of citrus fruit to steep in water and drinks.. What you will get is a glass of water filled with the toxic fungicides!!
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Police have released an e-fit of the man who approached a dad and his child in a pushchair in Dover, made “inappropriate comments,” then started pulling the pushchair away from him. Incident happened in broad daylight at 4:30pm. So we’re now at the stage where random blokes will just have a go at taking a toddler and the official response is an e-fit six weeks later. Brilliant.
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Send this Folic Acid Cancer letter to your MP Mine's @AliceMLabour
Send this folic acid cancer letter to your MP. @RupertLowe10
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Feasible about never going in attic. I rented a house for over 10 yrs with attic. Never went up there as no ladder. Only ever accessed by landlord contractors.
A good friend of mine rents out houses, and what happened to him this Saturday is unbelievable. His tenant panicked because water was coming through the children’s bedroom ceiling. He immediately sent a contractor. The problem? An attic skylight was wide open. Rain had soaked the insulation and damaged the recently renovated attic and bedroom ceiling. And the tenant’s reaction? “I never go into the attic. It’s definitely not my fault.” Seriously? 🤦‍♂️ Accidents happen, but taking responsibility matters. Would you hold the tenant responsible for the damage?
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The NHS has published its seasonal recipe for hospital kitchens this October. Kale raw slaw. Cabbage. Kale. Carrots. Red onion. A splash of vinegar. And rapeseed oil to bring it all together. Their own chef's tip proudly calls it "a great vegan salad". Lovely. So you're lying in a hospital bed. Maybe recovering from surgery. Maybe trying to heal a wound, rebuild muscle, get your strength back. And what turns up? Raw cabbage in seed oil. Not a bit of beef. Not an egg. Not a knob of butter. Nothing your body could actually rebuild itself with. Protein is what heals tissue. Older people lose muscle fast when they're stuck in bed. Everyone knows a poorly person needs feeding up. Our grandparents knew it. Beef tea. Bone broth. A proper bit of stew. But no. Rapeseed oil and kale. Then they wonder why people come out weaker than they went in. The NHS will spend billions on weight-loss jabs, and then serve the sick a factory oil dressing and call it nutrition. You couldn't make it up. If you were stuck in a hospital bed, what would you actually want brought to you?
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In November 1941 the richest man in America drove his twenty-three-year-old daughter to a hospital in Washington without telling her mother, had two surgeons drill holes in her skull and cut into the front of her brain while she sang God Bless America to them, and when the singing stopped she had a mental age of two and the family did not speak her name for twenty years. Rosemary Kennedy was the third child and the first girl, and she was slow. A nurse at the birth had held Rose Kennedy's legs together for two hours while they waited for the doctor, and the baby had been starved of air. She learned to read and write, but late, and in a family where the boys were being bred for the presidency and the girls for the right marriage, she was the one who could not keep up, the one who had to be coached and watched and given the simpler part in the photograph. She was also, by every account, the prettiest of them, and when the family went to London in 1938 she was presented at court in a white dress and curtsied to the King without a mistake. Then she was twenty-one, and the trouble started. Moods. Rages. Slipping out of the convent school at night and coming back in the morning and not saying where. The nuns said she might be meeting men. For Joseph Kennedy, who was managing his sons towards the White House and could not have a daughter who might get pregnant or get talked about, that was the end of it. He had read about a new operation. Walter Freeman had promised the newspapers it calmed the agitated, and Joe Kennedy had never in his life been told that a thing he could pay for would not work. Rosemary was given a mild sedative and kept awake. Freeman and his surgeon, James Watts, opened the skull on both sides and Watts pushed a blade into the frontal lobes and swept, while Freeman asked her to recite the Lord's Prayer and sing, and count backwards, so they would know how far to go. They went until she was incoherent. Then they stopped. She came out of it unable to walk or speak. Years of therapy got her a few words and a limp. Joe moved her to a private hospital in New York and then to a convent school in Wisconsin, told the family she was teaching the retarded in the Midwest, and never went to see her. Rose, her mother, was not told what had been done until long after, and did not visit for twenty years. The brothers and sisters, including the one who became President, were told she was away. When Joe had his stroke in 1961 and could no longer manage the story, Eunice went to Wisconsin and found a woman of forty-three who did not know her, and came home and started the Special Olympics. Rosemary lived to eighty-six, in the convent, and died in 2005 with her surviving sisters at the bed. The brother who became President had signed the first federal mental health law in 1963, and the family has said she was the reason. Freeman kept operating for another twenty-six years. His notes on Rosemary have never been released. That is what the expert's confidence looks like when it meets a powerful man with an inconvenient child. The science was published. The father was certain. The daughter sang to the surgeon until she could not. Every institution that has ever decided it knows what is wrong with you and how to tidy it has the same two ingredients in the room, and the person on the table is still the only one who pays.
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Back in 1978, a bunch of ten-year-olds could disappear into the woods for six hours without a single adult worrying. Nobody tracked us. Nobody checked in. Dinner was our deadline.
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