Top tip: take the lid off before using.

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.

Five books about the Taliban might help: https://fivebooks.com/category/world/asia/afghanistan/books-taliban/

They’re also deeply afraid of women.

https://twitter.com/AdamJSmithGA/status/1814723038564192535

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.

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’d fix my feet, ankles and legs. Not out of vanity, but for function. I long to walk easily again, to be nimble on my feet.

Don’t you have public transport? I usually take a bus to a gallery or cafe, and the mechanic phones or texts to say my car is ready. The repair place also has a few chairs and a free coffee machine, so you can sit and wait if you’d prefer. It’s noisy but interesting. Maybe they have a break room where you could wait?

Scottish Blend.

Creamy, crunchy, fruity? What you want is Eton Mess. https://www.bbcgoodfood.com/recipes/eton-mess

That sounds like a protection racket.

But but but it saves users from doing “gymnastics with their eyes”!! Jaysus, what a load of bs.

I hate algorithms, they narrow everything down, desperate to squeeze you into a little box. FB knows how old I am, so while I’m stalking my nieces it shows me ads for incontinence pants, tea towels and comfy shoes. It became a complete turn off with Netflix, it’s part of the reason I cancelled. Don’t miss it.

I remember my poor niece saying, “I can’t believe they let us leave the hospital with her! She’s so tiny and fragile! We don’t know what we’re doing!”

Cheese and marmalade, the sharper both are the better. Mmm.

Where I’m from it’s called “squeezing the lemon”. Mash that pedal! Ha ha. The best bit is when you catch up with them stopped at the next set of lights.

I my (extensive) cookie experience, double chocolate usually means the same amount of chips, but the dough part is also chocolate flavoured. Hard to tell in this instance, but the “double” cookies may be a shade darker.

We call them zoodies in our sports club, to differentiate them from hoodies, which have no zip.

For me olives were an acquired taste.

The first time I ate in a restaurant I was about 12 I think. It was a fancy Italian place. When I saw the dishes of (green, pimento-stuffed) olives on the table I was excited to try one. I’d only ever seen pictures of them in American magazines - this was mid-60s New Zealand, Coca Cola was exotic. I put one in my mouth, and almost gagged, the flavour was so completely awful. I spat it into a napkin.

Fast forward to today, and I would gladly hoover up the whole dishful and ask for more. My favourite olive is a big fat juicy Kalamata. I also love tapenade made with black olives. The only olives I dislike are the flavourless cardboardy lumps sometimes passed off as olives.