His vision was to make tea, a drink once exclusive to those who could afford it, available to the masses. He was 40 years old, Glaswegian from no hint of upper crust upbringing and his name is synonymous with tea the world over (although I admit to being a Twininings person myself). Sir Thomas Lipton was certainly the face of tea for me growing up in the USA; and until Celestial Seasonings came along was probably the only tea I saw on the shelves. His is the most illustrious grave in the Southern Necropolis, on the edge of The Gorbals (or as they now call it, “New Gorbals”). The poor stepsister to The Necropolis on the hill above this city, this is the graveyard of the everyday Glaswegians tucked in amongst a housing estate and some large retail/industrial premises. There is only one way in/out and it is divided into square sections. Bring a snack. http://www.liptontea.com/article/detail/960780/3-ways-lipton-changed-tea-history I wonder why his grave is here. All the posh people of Glasgow; tobacco barons, bankers, merchants – are all up on the hill at the Necropolis above the Glasgow Cathedral. Perhaps he was a man of the people. I daresay his legacy of tea for everyone has outlived some of the biggest and fanciest monuments I saw at the main Necropolis.
There is a treasure trove of stories to go under the Sassenach heading- funny things that happen when you are an “outlander with a sense of humour” and the desire to find the best in most situations. This also extends … Continue reading
Source: Contact the Night Shelter
I have found myself as a foster mother for cats. I thought it would be something I could do; I have an extra bedroom at the moment. I like cats. I miss mine; but that is another story. Little did I know that once I expressed an interest; I would have two lively five-month old kitties practically the next day. Tushie (above) and Milatto (not shown). Tushie likes to be up high but does not do dishes.
They found a good home after a couple weeks. I was quite sad the last night as I had been gone for a couple days and Tushie slept by my head the last night; purring. She was such a wee thing; and her brother used to play with her a bit too hard (in my humble, feminist opinion). Sleeping near me, or curling into me while I knit gave her cover. (I called her Tinkerbell.)
Within a couple hours of them moving on, I had Benson (left) and Baby. Baby is an eight year old male; skin and bones; no teeth. Likes yoghurt for a treat. Benson is my big boy. He is thin too; don’t let those chipmunk cheeks fool you. Completely freaked out and stand offish on arrival – Benson now, 10 days later, lives for chin scratches and full body rubs. And purrs. He will have a home soon, I hope. Baby will take longer.
I am doing this for Cat’s Protection, Glasgow. A lovely group of volunteers take in these wee souls and do our best to nourish body and soul for them so they can move on. I am doing it for me, too. Making a difference. Can you be a foster parent, too?