GOLDEN GIRLS
Name not disclosed, via email
Fiona, Hermes sent me an »
email saying “We will deliver between 2 and 4pm”. That was over a week ago. Eventually I phoned and was told “It’s coming tomorrow”.
It didn’t. A few frustrated calls later I thought I’d go for a refund. “Sorry can’t do that until we locate the parcel.” They’ve had my money for three weeks and I assume someone else has my parcel. Useless on every level. Merry bloody Christmas.
Gill, via email
Fiona, I agree with you often, »
but I’m disappointed with your rant against courier services. My son’s a courier. He runs parcels up and down steps in high-rise flats, walks down overgrown paths, through locked gates, avoiding dogs, battling driving rain, snow and storms to get to irate customers who expected it yesterday or earlier, or accuse him of stealing.
All this on average 100 times a day, on a zero-hours contract wage with no holiday or sick pay. My son’s an honest, hard-working family man.
FP: Definitely not blaming the couriers. They’re under pressure to deliver come what may.
So sorry, but your email has disappeared into the ether after I read it, so I haven’t got your name. Please do get in contact again if you’d like a namecheck!
The outcome of an assault charge is still pending after she allegedly attacked her professional tennis player boyfriend, Lewis Burton.
And yes I can hear the roar of indignation and shock from here. And no, I am definitely NOT condoning the assault of any human being by another human being, whether male or female.
But come on, as far as the law is concerned, she hasn’t actually been found guilty yet. Which means that whatever did or did not happen in private should really stay private until the whole sorry tale is heard, and judged, in court.
That’s when the consequences of her actions, whatever they might or might not have been, should kick in.
In the meantime, an anger management course might be a
England’s Steph Houghton
When my eldest brother (masquerading as 1970s Spurs legend Martin Chivers), took shots at me, (masquerading as 1966 World Cup-winning goalkeeping legend Gordon Banks), in our back garden in the early 70s it sparked a love of the game in me that has never died.
I was forbidden from playing it at school and was, on one occasion, given detention when I defied the rules and joined a kick about with party if we’re talking best pastoral care is it, despite all the measures put in place to support the Islanders’ emotional wellbeing?
The whole show, although clearly based on the idealism of finding true love, in truth also deals in manipulation, humiliation and, in Amy Hart’s case in the last series, degradation.
When Curtis Pritchard dumped the besotted Love Islander in front of millions of people watching at home, the cameras zoomed in and whirred and rolled as her heart was broken in close-up, tearily harking back to the long-term plans they’d previously spoken of.
Painful enough to watch, let alone to experience in front of millions of TV viewers.
No one’s innocent in the game of TV manipulation. I only hope Caroline and her partner are receiving as much support as they are headlines at this very difficult time for
them both.
Love Island deals with manipulation, humiliation and degradation
the boys. My sporting highlight of this year, then, has to be the Women’s World Cup.
Myself, and many other women like me born in the wrong decade, couldn’t even dare to dream of what our lionesses have become.
The fact that captain Steph Houghton and many of her team-mates are now household names is a game-changing feat in a sport previously dominated by men. Makes my heart sing. With a tinge of envy thrown in…