All that I know is that I don’t know.
Northampton, England
Joined December 2010
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Anyone else fed up with the lousy user experience using the Lloyds Banking App as a result of Halifax being terminated?
Chat service is just as bad
#LloydsBank
A salutary warning
Ukraine says Elon Musk’s Starlink imposed curbs without warning
thetimes.com/article/85f3b96…
Elon Musk has blood on his hands #elonmusktraitor
My 9 albums - tell me what you think of them, as an adolescent music was incredibly important to me, it still is but not quite in the same character defining way it seemed to be all those years ago #my9albums my9albums.org/s/8194d3d32cc9
Is this true? @leonjcassidy
Julia Heartless Bastard more like
Julia Hartley-Brewer trolled Andy Burnham’s tears for his dad and was magnificently owned into next year thepoke.com/2026/09/30/julia…
If you can read this thank a teacher, thank God that Mr Pigden taught Ian Wright
When Ian Wright was struggling at Turnham Primary School in south London, he was getting sent out of lessons so often that standing in the corridor had almost become normal.
He found reading and writing difficult, his attention would disappear when he could not understand something, and once that happened he would start messing around and disrupt the rest of the class.
That was where PE teacher Sydney Pigden kept seeing him.
“He was a very strict man.”
Every time Pigden walked past, Wright was in the same place.
“Outside the classroom again?”
After about the third time, Wright had become so embarrassed that he stopped even looking at him.
One day Pigden stopped.
He looked at Wright for a moment, went into the classroom and spoke to his teacher for around ten minutes.
When he came back out, there were only three words.
“Come with me.”
Pigden took Wright to the library and started working with him separately.
“And then he changed my life.”
He taught him how to read and write properly, but it went much further than schoolwork.
Wright could go from being calm to furious very quickly, so Pigden taught him to understand why he was getting angry and how to communicate instead.
Wright became register monitor, collecting them from the classrooms, and milk monitor, handing the milk out to the other children.
They were small things, but for a boy who had spent so much time feeling like he was only noticed when he did something wrong, they mattered.
“He made me believe that the things I did mattered.”
“It was really nice, simply because he was the first man who showed me any kind of love.”
Pigden soon realised there was something else Wright could do.
Football.
Wright wanted to get the ball, dribble past everybody and smash it into the goal.
Pigden started showing him another way.
“He was the first person that taught me that when you get close to goal, you don’t have to blast it into the back of the net.”
He taught him about Jimmy Greaves and the composure that the best goalscorers had when they got near the goalkeeper.
“Just finish with a little touch, the goalkeeper’s got no chance.”
Years later, whenever he went through on goal and calmly finished a chance, he would think back to those lessons with Mr Pigden.
For the first time, there was a man in his life giving him responsibility, expecting something from him and refusing to give up when he got things wrong.
When Wright eventually made it at Crystal Palace, Pigden came to watch him.
Whenever they bumped into each other, the message was the same.
“I’m so proud.”
Eventually they lost touch.
Years passed, Wright played for Arsenal, became England international and finished his career as one of the best goalscorers of his generation.
Somewhere along the way, somebody told him Sydney Pigden had passed away.
Wright believed them.
Years later, he was back at Highbury filming a television programme about his life.
He was sitting in the empty stadium looking out towards the pitch when a voice appeared behind him.
“Hello Ian.”
“Long time no see.”
Wright turned around.
The hat immediately came off his head.
“I can’t believe this.”
“Someone said you were dead.”
Pigden held out his hand.
“As you can see I’m very much alive.”
“And I’m so glad you’ve done so well with yourself.”
Wright started crying.
The man he thought had died was standing in front of him for the first time in almost 25 years.
They hugged, and because Pigden was standing a few steps above him, Wright later remembered feeling like a little boy again.
Before becoming a teacher, Sydney Pigden had served as an RAF pilot during the Second World War.
He had flown Spitfires, Hurricanes and Typhoons, and after the war he was chosen to take part in a victory flypast over Buckingham Palace.
But when Pigden looked back on his life, that was not what he was proudest of.
“He said he was prouder of the fact that I played for Arsenal and for England than he was flying over Buckingham Palace.”
“You can’t top that sort of thing.”
For Wright, all the goals, England caps and trophies never changed what Sydney Pigden had been to him.
“The first man in my life that showed me love.”
#football
Here’s an idea, I get that larger print would cost more and exceed the size of the packaging so why not put a QR Code on the label that will link to clear and easy to read cooking instructions #Lidl
Couldn’t agree more, sadly those he is criticising will not get it. When looking up they should take a long hard look at Farage & Co and ask if they are really standing up for the common man & woman.
Reminds me of the Lenny Bruce invocation “here’s a stick and a gun but wait ..”
Councillor Matt Blair (FB post):
“Apparently I’m a “traitor” now. This came as something of a surprise.
Fun fact: some people join the Armed Forces because they believe in protecting their country and its values.
I used to get paid to skirmish with the Taliban in Afghanistan. These days I apparently betray my country by challenging far-right conspiracy rhetoric on Facebook (for considerably less pay, I might add)
Courage. Discipline. Respect for Others. Integrity. Loyalty. Selfless Commitment. #CDRILS.
Those values didn’t stop mattering when I took the uniform off.
And that’s the thing about the flag. The flag itself isn’t the important bit. It’s what it represents. You can wrap yourself in one, stick one on every lamppost and shout about patriotism until you’re blue in the face. The harder bit is actually living by the values you claim it represents.
In the British Army, we expect high standards from our leadership. If the people at the top were filling their pockets, sipping champagne and slurping oysters while everyone else was out doing the hard graft, I can assure you the lads and lasses wouldn’t respond by blaming the bloke next to them.
That’s the bit I don’t understand about this version of patriotism. When things get hard, the anger always seems to travel downwards.
Being angry about the state of the country is perfectly legitimate, understandable frankly. But strength isn’t finding someone with less power than you to blame for it.
Look up. Expect better from the people with power. That feels considerably more patriotic to me.” 🇬🇧
Bless Leo, wish I had the equivalent pocket money when I was his age, his Mum should cash in on her powers of prediction #COYG
