We have plenty of people who need homes, but cannot afford them: Rents are expensive; mortgage deposits are extortionate; the bank of mum and dad has been squeezed dry. Hard working people desperately need homes.
The tide came up a few hours ago, and so we are pleasantly stuck on this rocky outcrop. And we couldn’t be any happier.
What shocks me is the ability of some people to take offence at food which differs even slightly from that which their mother made while they were growing up.
I feel insecure about my accent; I feel insecure about my class. The two are inextricably linked, like it or not.
I’m up for a blogging prize; come and help me win.
It’s not often that I write a news post, but that is precisely what this is. And what news it is.
Britain is not the same as the rest of Europe: why did it take us so long to work that out? Why did we argue so much?