Scotland, hands down. I feel so lucky to be living here. I was only going to stay three years & then go back to New Zealand and settle down. Thirty-five years later I’m still here. I fell in love with the hills - and the freedom to walk on them - the lochs, the ancient ruins. But most of all I fell in love with the people. Their craic, their warmth and craziness, their generosity, their music. I love that you can talk to anyone and you’ll often hear an amazing life story.

I love things like this: https://www.dailyrecord.co.uk/news/scottish-news/anti-deportations-group-issues-guide-24107754

I love the cultural richness that’s come from successive waves of immigration, from Italy, India & Pakistan, China, Poland and more.

I love the food. I love haggis and Arbroath smokies and Aberdeen butteries and shortbread and oatcakes and Tunnocks caramel wafers.

And least I forget, yes, I love the weather.

Vanuatu is one of the best places I’ve ever been. Really interesting people.

I was on a work trip back in the 80s that took me to one of the northern islands of Vanuatu. Our plane landed on a football field, that’s how remote our destination was. After we set up camp, someone said they’d heard there was a teacher from New Zealand in the nearby village. Well I’m a New Zealander too, so off I went to meet her. Within the first few minutes we had worked out that not only were we originally from the same small town… she was my older brother’s first girlfriend.

But actually because NZ has a small population and we all travel a lot, it’s not as mad a coincidence as all that. It sometimes feels like we are all just a couple of degrees of separation from each other. “Oh you’re from Oamaru? Do you know XY?” “Not really, but one of my cousins works for his sister, ZY.”

Top tip: take the lid off before using.

I had this issue with an Android recently - but it was my own phone, an old one I wanted to test a SIM on. I couldn’t remember the PIN, couldn’t even recall having a PIN for this phone. I had to dig deep through the tech forums to find a solution, but got there eventually. And yes, I read that over and over during my search, “it’s for your security”. Argh!

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.

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’m still loving my iPod Classic. I got it a little Bluetooth dongle so I can listen via my hearing aids. I find iTunes beyond irritating though and am always looking for an alternative for adding music.

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I hope this sets off a whole chain of people posting pictures of their truly weird hands.

For what it’s worth my own right hand has bad arthritis, every finger is wonky in its own special way, also the thumb. And I’m old, so it’s all veiny and speckled with liver spots. No, you’re not getting a photo.

What’s funny is that (according to the old testament) when Moses came down off the mountain with the tablets and found everyone worshipping the golden calf, he had a big hissy fit and smashed them. So then after doing quite a bit of murdering he had to go back up the mountain to get a second set. Exodus 32-34

I asked a religious relative how it was ok for Moses to murder people when he had only just be told by God himself “thou shalt not kill”, and she said it was because the don’t kill thing came further down the list than having only the one god.

Struwwelpeter. We had an English copy handed down by my grandfather. It’s insane.

Example: “Die gar traurige Geschichte mit dem Feuerzeug (“The Very Sad Tale with the Matches”): A girl plays with matches, accidentally ignites herself and burns to death. Only her cats mourn her.”

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Struwwelpeter

– pay for a large residence and security on the outskirts, then stay inside. Use disguises/body doubles when going out.

So … you can everything you want, except sponteneity? Or privacy, with all those staff hanging around. And there’d still be some douche tracking your private jet.

Ha ha, read this wonderful piece through thinking, sounds great but what would I ever make? And then omg, yarn winder. I’m a knitter, and my yarn winder is a plastic monstrosity. I mean I’m never going to do it myself, but there definitely is a market for beautifully machined yarn winders.

It was partly because my parents forced me into a scholarship that was tied to teaching afterwards - I was entirely unsuited to being a teacher, but neither of them even attended high school, and to them being a teacher was the pinnacle of achievement. I was pretty good academically but university overwhelmed me, so between that and no incentive to succeed, I failed miserably, only passing a few courses. I ended up getting a professional qualification (not a degree) in my 30s and had a decent career.

Living in a squat for a few years showed me I would have made a fantastic electrian or plumber, but you had to have a penis for that for some reason.

That sounds like a protection racket.