Thursday, 27 January 2011


Was finally in a room filled with more males than females. Oh-so-rare since I joined this course. I was shocked. wth... so not use to an environment with higher male population.. At the end of the day, it reminded me of how enjoyable the company of the opposite sex was!

I also.....
Met 'Creepy'. Laughed about 'Creepy' all the way back home.... sigh... creepy

Tuesday, 25 January 2011

Hell... lp

The start of a new sem and I'm already up to my neck.
Need a swim tmr.
Longest streak ever of not going swimming.
Blame winter.
Blame exams.
Blame the environment.

Swim to destress. I forgot about that!


One of the beautiful mythological works at the Einar Jónsson Museum. Einar was Iceland's master sculptor of the last century, and the museum, located just to the west of Hallgrímskirkja, is a lovely piece of art deco architecture designed by the artist himself. This sculpture, named Skuld, or Fate, and many others can be found in the garden behind the museum, which was once his private residence.

Please also take a look at the web site of a friend of mine, Hrafnhildur Arnadóttir, who was recently awarded the Nordic Award in Textiles and who has shown her work at New York MoMA, on the top floor at 7 World Trade Center and as a Macy's NYC window display. She has also created pieces for Björk, Lady Gaga and Nike.

She presents under the name Shoplifter (as the story goes, she was trying repeatedly to pronounce her name for someone at a loud party in New York and all that person could hear was "shoplifter"...the name stuck), and is as eclectic and colorful in person as the exciting works she creates.

Regarding politics (but why bother?) read about our latest fiasco here, and some background details on the hopes Iceland, and observers out in the real world, had placed on a generally-elected Constitutional Assembly. Those hopes are dashed, and somehow it feels as though some certain fate is sealed.

Sunday, 23 January 2011

In Memory of Omi

I’ve only ever known one grandparent: my German, maternal grandmother: “Omi” as we knew her. She was born 26 April 1918 and died 21 January 2011 at 92 years old. Since I heard the news of her death, I wanted to just get a load of thoughts out on her extraordinary life.

Hilda Krause was born when the Kaiser was still on the throne, six months before the end of World War One. She was the eldest of four children and was born in West Prussia, a region that doesn’t exist anymore. Prussia only really lives on in the minds of historians (think Frederick the Great, Bismarck, Kant) – but it was a country which had as distinct a culture and identity as strong as Bavaria or Wales.

1927 Family Picture: Omi centre left
Her tiny home village, Kulingen, is now in Eastern Poland. It’s an area of rolling countryside, rich farmland, “dark woods and crystal lakes”. The villages are neat and tidy: the red brick towns are 15km apart, planned in the Middle Ages so that no farmer had further than 7.5km to travel to take their goods to market. The summers were hot: in winter the snow piled up below the windows a metre deep. According to Omi they could drink from any stream as children.

On 20 January 1920, in accordance with the Treaty of Versailles, Kulingen and most of West Prussia became part of Poland – the famous “Polish Corridor”. Some areas were given plebiscites on their future: this part of West Prussia was not.  It simply passed over by stroke of a pen.  Around two million West Prussians were given the choice of becoming Poles, or leaving their homes for Germany. My family stayed on their farm. Omi, born German, accordingly became Polish overnight, and attended Polish school. She and her younger siblings were all fluent in both languages as a result. The Poles were however Catholic; they were Lutheran – and culturally they remained strongly German. Her siblings were as follows: Ella 1920, Frieda 1922, Heinrich 1925.

Omi's Mother with her cow, Dola
Life on the farm was clearly pretty hard. As the oldest child, Omi had more than her fair share of work to do. She wanted to be a teacher, but left school at 14 to help run things after her father’s death in 1932.

She did not want to be on a farm but was particularly proud of the fact that she had a special recipe for feeding her pigs. They were so good they were sold in London in the 1930s as bacon. For years she referred proudly to her “Bakkon Schweine” (as she pronounced it). They had no electricity at all in the village (it came in 1946 after they had left) so they used petroleum lamps - and they pumped all their water from a well in the farmyard.

Frieda with Tyras
On 1 September 1939 Omi was 21. She had let the dog out and he was going crazy. There appeared to be Polish soldiers on manoeuvres in their potato fields. In fact it was the Wehrmacht, invading from East Prussia (still part of Germany) 20 km away. Omi called out “Tyras, komm!” and the German soldiers stood up. Omi was informed that Hitler had invaded the Polish Corridor to free Germans like them.

There’s little question the family saw Hitler and the Nazis as liberators. They proudly hoisted a flagpole with swastika on 2 September. On 3 September the famous British ultimatum expired and World War Two broke out. Within months the 10% Jewish population of Löbau, the nearest town had been rounded up by the Germans and moved away. It is certain few survived the murderous Nazi regime.

Omi with her Mother on the Farm
Omi’s Polish neighbours had to step off the street when they saw Germans coming, leave a shop when one entered, allow Germans to the front of queues to buy things. West Prussia was integrated back into the Reich, and the family became German citizens again. The Germans were the "Master Race" and in areas of mixed population like this, this was most keenly felt. Many Polish farming neighbours in the area were forcibly resettled and their homes were given to Bessarabian Ethnic Germans (Volksdeutsche) under an agreement between Stalin and Hitler.  The Soviet Union and Germany were of course still not at war at this point.

The War passed relatively peacefully in West Prussia (at least for the Germans).  It was far from the fighting, and later the Allied bombing of German cities in the West. Our family were farmers and therefore had plenty to eat. In the summer of 1940 Omi met a Reichsbahn Inspector from nearby Frödenau, Kurt, my grandfather. They met one day when she was picking cherries on the farm. He shouted something to her and Omi's first words to him were "You shouldn't talk to women you don't know across the garden fence like that."
Omi's Wedding 1940

Kurt and Hilda quickly fell in love and their engagement was short.  Omi's mother said to her on her wedding day (28 November 1940) “Well you’ve got what you always wanted, you’re not going to be a farmer’s wife.” Omi even got a job for a short time teaching Polish children German and they moved to a little house a short walk away from the family farm house.

My mother, Christel Hilda, was born in 1941. On her birth certificate her original maiden name is struck through. The family had later applied to change their name to a more German sounding version.  This was granted on my mother's first birthday.  Omi thought the “ski” at the end made them sound Polish and did not want this.

Mother's Christening 1 June 1941
Omi is on the left of the picture of my mother's christening.  Over the next few weeks troops began amassing in West Prussia.  Something major was clearly afoot. On 22 June 1941, exactly three weeks after my Mother's christening, Germany attacked the Soviet Union.  Operation Barbarossa had begun. The family genuinely greeted the news with some amount of consternation. Many people felt Hitler had this time bitten off more than he could chew. All hell was about to break out on the Eastern Front and it would ultimately mean the end of the life that our family knew.

The photographs from this time are fascinating.  To the right we see Omi dressed in a striped fur coat
Snow Ball Fight
with her sister in the cold West Prussian winter.  They are playing snowballs with two soldiers.  Carefree times amongst the horror that was rapidly unfolding across Europe.

Max, one of the Trakehners

There were six cows and three horses on the farm. The horses were called Max, Lisa and Prinz.  They were Trakehners, a fine, handsome breed of East Prussian horses that has been immortalised in England through the Lloyds Bank "Black Horse".  Omi's sister Ella took care of the horses.

In total 10,000 registered Trakehner stallions and 18,000 breeding mares were reduced to just 700 survivors after 1945.  Max and Lisa almost certainly saved the family's life in during the flight that came in 1945. This beautiful breed of horse is being bred again in Germany, but far from its ancient home in the East.

This picture shows the farmyard with the well, which is covered up so that it could be accessed even when there was snow.  There are steps across the muddy farmyard.  Omi's brother, Heinrich, playing on the cart, has had his armband scratched out on the photo by someone, presumably after the War.

The Farmyard
In the next photo we see the family together in their sitting room in 1943.  They have double glazing and shutters against the fierce cold, and lace curtains on the windows.  Omi is the centre with the long hair.  Her mother is holding my mother, aged two.  The young man half standing is again Omi's brother, Heinrich. If you look closely, you will see he is wearing a Hitler Youth uniform with a swastika armband. Above the happy family scene, on the left, a photograph of the Führer looks down.

Inside the Farmhouse 1943
The only real tragedy to strike the family during the war was that Heinrich disappeared on the Russian Front just before Christmas 1943. He was 18 and as the only boy, the soul heir to the farm. He had volunteered to fight in the struggle against the “Bolshevik Danger”.  Apparently he could not wait to join up and fight: he said "We are going to win this war and then everyone will ask what I did. I don't want to say nothing." We have no idea what ever happened to him: "Missing, Presumed Dead".

Frieda, Youngest Sister
In late 1944 the Soviets first breached the borders of the Reich in East Prussia at Nemmersdorf. They raped and killed the inhabitants of the village, apparently crucifying women to barn doors. Dr  Goebbels visited and the Nazi press made much of the event – historians argue about how much was genuine and how much was staged. In any case, the aim was to galvanise German resolve to win the war. The effect was blind panic when the Soviets again broke through the lines on 12 January 1945.

The Flight: Unimaginable Horror
On 18 January 1945 Omi’s village received the “Evacuation Order”. They had literally 24 hours to leave their homes with what they could carry.  The men were allowed to help slaughter animals and prepare their families for evacuation.  They then had to rejoin the army to fight.  My grandfather, who had been invalided from the Front, was allowed to accompany his family as far as Preußisch Stargard (100km away), when he had to report to the military and return to fight the Soviets. Rape and death would have been a virtual certainty if my family had remained at home. 

Early in the morning on 19 January 1945 Omi, 26 years old, set off with her mother Elisabeth (56), her sisters Ella and Frieda (24 and 22), my mother Christel (aged 3), my aunt Gitti (1) and her niece Karin (6 weeks old). The Polish farmhand, Josef (19) also accompanied them for 8 weeks of the flight. He was terrified of the Red Army too, regarded his employers as his family, and had no close relatives of his own.

It was -25 Celsius and there was thick snow. Refugees were not generally allowed on the roads – these were reserved for the Wehrmacht. Instead they had to use field tracks.  They had hung carpets from the wagon to keep out the wind. The babies were wrapped in linen baskets. Thick feather beds kept them as warm as possible particularly at night. Apart from what they could fit on their cart, they literally left everything they had behind them. Max and Lisa, the horses pulled the wagon.  Prinz (the other horse), their cows, the hens, Tyras their dog - their entire existence was left behind. Omi, who lived to experience 2011, never saw her home again.

The village fled as a “trek” of carts and wagons. If you ran into trouble, you were left behind. Literally millions of German civilians surged in front of the approaching Soviet lines.  They hear the gun fire and heavily artillery clearly: the fighting was just kilometres away.

Panic, Fear and Terror
The Soviet air force strafed the lines of refugees at times. Babies froze to death and were thrown by the roadside with no time to bury them. To the north, encircled East Prussians had to cross the frozen water of the Frisches Haff where entire families fell through the ice.

The Wilhelm Gustloff
Some made it to Danzig or Gottenhafen where they caught refugee ships to the West. The Soviets torpedoed several of these ships: including the pride of the KDF fleet the Wilhelm Gustloff, in which 9400 perished in the icy Baltic Sea on 30 January 1945. This is the worst maritime disaster in history (1500 died on the Titanic).

In total, an estimated one million Germans died during the flight, pretty much all women, children or the elderly. It has been politically very difficult to drawn attention to this suffering because of the terrible crimes committed by Nazi Germany. Germans were perpetrators, not victims so it goes. As always, history is considerably more nuanced and complicated than that. Suffering is suffering – although I never forget that this was also the time when the few surviving Jews of Europe were being driven on death marches from the camps, also on the path West.

Westpreußen (West Prussia) on Right
The flight was sheer terror. The Wehrmacht split up the Kulingen Trek as they crossed the frozen Vistula River. The half that went West made it to safety to the Lüneburg Heath near Hanover.

The other half had to wait an entire day to cross over.  It was sent North and did not make it to safety: Omi's family was among this half. In late March 1945, after over 2 months flight, the Soviets caught up with the family in Pomerania at the village of Althammer. The horses who have saved them were taken away by soldiers: the flight was over. Josef, the Pole, went back to Kulingen. My family all survived, but what happened there at the hands of the Russian soldiers is barely spoken about.

The family stayed on a farm in Pomerania throughout 1946 and helped bring the harvest in.  They had very little to eat and the constant fear of Soviet troops to deal with. Omi's second daughter, Gitti (by now 2), almost died from bacillary dysentery. There were no medicines and she had to be treated with plants growing in the woods.

From 1946 onwards all of the Germans still left east of the Oder-Neisse line were systematically expelled westwards by the Soviets. Churchill, Roosevelt and Stalin had agreed at the Yalta and Potsdam Conferences to wipe Prussia off the map and to “peacefully resettle” the millions of Germans still in the East. Eight centuries of German civilisation and history were eradicated.

The Schwarz Farm in Mecklenburg
Omi now temporarily left her two young daughters and family to make an extraordinary journey, mainly on her foot, on her own, to Güstrow in Mecklenburg.  She wanted to search out her godparents - the Schwarz family. They had lived in Kulingen but had moved away when the Polish Corridor was created in 1920.  They welcomed Omi and told her to bring the whole family to their farm.  On the way back to Pomerania Omi was stopped by a patrol of Soviet border guards who had orders to shoot anyone travelling East. She begged for her life and said that she had two little daughters to collect. They allowed her to go.

Omi and her family now headed together to the Schwarzes, this time in goods carriages on a train. The train stopped and they were systematically robbed by partisans at the Oder-Neisse border. A German pastor in their wagon literally had the shirt off his back taken away when he was stripped to his underpants.  The family travelled through Berlin, where in the bombed out main railway station, Omi's youngest sister Frieda was selected from a crowd to do forced labour in Siberia by the Soviets.  She was marched through the city with another woman, but they lied and said they had children. The Russians were famously "child friendly" and let them return. Had they checked their ID cards they would have discovered the truth.
My Grandfather, Kurt

Eventually my grandfather, released from a Soviet Prisoner of War camp, rejoined them in Mecklenburg through the help of the Red Cross. In 1947 the family escaped to the West, to the British Zone. My grandfather hid under a pile of logs to avoid detection. After their experiences, they had no desire to be in the Soviet Zone of Occupation, and went to the Dutch border, to a little town called Gronau in Westfalia. They settled here in October 1947.

There were by now around 12 million refugees from the East packed mainly into bombed out Western Germany. The strain on housing, resources, schools, hospitals was immense. The family lived in an attic with several other families for almost a year. Many West Germans called them “Polaks” and mocked their Prussian accents and dialects. These are my Mother's first clear memories.

The combined flight and expulsion of the Eastern Germans remains the biggest movement of human population in the history of the world.  The area concerned is around the total size of England:  over 1/4 of Germany's territory was removed from the map of Europe.  It remains the largest example of ethnic cleansing ever perpetrated, all carried out with the agreement of the Allies to appease the Soviets and to allow them to shift their border westwards. Millions of Poles were also expelled from their homes, and moved to former German cities, to make way for Russians in what had been Poland before 1939.
Omi, Widowed with her 3 Daughters

On 8 June 1951, just as things were starting to look up, my Grandfather was tragically killed in a railway accident. Omi was left alone in post-war West Germany, with a small widow’s pension from Deutsche Bahn. She was 33 and had three daughters aged 10, 7 and 3. Initially she was told she was entitled to a death payment of 1000DM from his trade union; it later transpired that his service was 4 months short and the money was withheld.

Omi did everything she could to help her girls to learn. She saved from her pension to send them to the Realschule (a small fee was payable and the education was better) rather than the free Volksschule. After they had gone to bed she would read their schoolbooks because she had never had a German education and was determined to write proper, correct German, and to learn about German history.
"Peterchen" (3) with Omi

Learning was something Omi taught me. “Peterchen, lernen mußt du!” She told had lost everything to the Russians, but what you had in your head no one could ever take. I became the first child in our family to go to university (though my elder brother also went to Polytechnic) – and the first child from our school to get into Cambridge.

Omi in her 70s

Omi lived for 60 years as a widow. She was utterly devoted to her three girls and then to her grandchildren. 

When I came out to my mother, she asked me not to tell Omi, as she would was very Lutheran and would not understand. I respected this, but eventually we decided she would have to know as otherwise she would find out and that would be worse. Her astonishing reaction? “There’s nothing wrong with that, it’s not a choice, it’s genetic. I read about it in a magazine.” She just loved me, her Peterchen (little Peter), and that was the end of it.

Omi was 90 in 2008. As she got older she said she remembered the horror of the flight more and more and sometimes woke with nightmares about it all. We all went across to Germany for her birthday. All 5 women of the 7 who had been on the flight were there, including my mother. Omi was so excited she could not get to sleep until 3am the following day. I last saw her in August 2009. She was going downhill a lot with dementia and barely recognised me. She was however superbly cared for by the German health care system in the most wonderful old people’s home imaginable. 

Visiting West Prussia 2004
In 2004 my mother and I went to former West Prussia (now Poland) and visited the farm where my Mum was born and the village Omi knew as her home– it was a wonderful experience. We went with a group of old West Prussians, many of whom had never been there since 1945. Omi never did go back – she wanted to keep her memories as it all was. We however saw the church she was confirmed in, the old barn still standing at the farm, the railway station where my Grandfather worked, even the little house my mother was born in.
Omi aged 88 with Oscar my Collie

Omi died peacefully in her sleep yesterday, 21 January 2011, a few months short of 93. By historic irony, 21 January 1945 was the day the Soviets entered the village of Kulingen and the “blackest day in its history". 

Omi was definitely damaged by her life experiences – the loss of home, the loss of her husband, being on her own – all enormous things to deal with for anyone. She was absolutely certain she would be reunited with her husband in death and I hope she will be. She had a long life. From 90 onwards she was rarely present and often unwell. I’m so pleased she slipped away without pain or suffering.

Despite well over 60 years in the West, Omi's "Heimat" or "Homeland" remained West Prussia until the day she died.  I have written this to remember that place, to remember the millions who lost their lives and homes at the end of the War, and in tribute to my Grandmother.  An ordinary, but brave and much loved woman, caught up in extraordinary times.

Ruhe in Frieden, liebe Omi

Saturday, 22 January 2011

Glasgow Science Center

Enjoy the present day and all the small joys it has to offer.

Thanks. I had a great time :)
8 more comments on "In Memory of Omi" below

Friday, 21 January 2011

Hickey risk

You could get a minor stroke when getting a hickey. It happened to a woman recently!

Tuesday, 18 January 2011

Monday, 17 January 2011

The Golden Globes 2011- The two bestr dressed, in my opinion

I had a nap. During that nap I had a dream. A dream which lingered in my memory even when I am awake. Told people about it. Great laughter ensued. It was a bad dream! I hope that dream will never come true......

I am at aw with the dress worn by Natalie Portman and Catherine Zeta Jones during the Golden Globes recently. Both were equally stunning! *Pics from*

Sunday, 16 January 2011


GUEST PHOTOGRAPHER: Leifur Þór Þorvaldsson*

Leifur writes: In a secret location on the in the middle of nowhere, these shoes have been lying for decades undisturbed. One can only imagine how it came about that they ended up there.

Leifur, who describes himself as an Icelandic theater maker, graduated with a BA in Theory and Practice from the theatre department of the Iceland Academy of the Arts in 2009. His graduation work, Endurrómun, was staged at Borgaleikhúsið, The Reykjavík City Theatre, last January and was then nominated for a Gríman, the Icelandic answer to the Tony Award. He is now working in the development stages of a new project currently set for production next year. This photo is a sweet example of his obvious visual talents.

During research on the Icelandic theater scene years ago, I discovered that it is amazingly robust for such a small nation. Though there are always grumblings (and rightly so) about reduced funding for the arts, and though the large national and city theaters have a serious corner on the market (here is a statement on that fact by the Association of Independent Theatres in Iceland) theater, as a direct progeny of the storytelling and rímur culture that kept the Icelandic national identity intact during the very difficult middle ages, is alive and strong.

For a bit of extra reading about Icelandic theater, here is a piece on Icelandic theater I wrote for the Reykjavík Grapevine in 2004 (which was, unfortunately, poorly edited and titled before it went to print. Sigh.)

*the letter 'Þ' in Leifur's middle and last names is pronounced 'Th,' so the English spelling of his name is Leifur Thor Thorvaldsson.


In less than 24 hours.... hello ********************* :)

The thought of CNY. The red packet will not be filled with money this time, but it will contain a piece of paper which is the ... EXAM RESULTS! Only happens when studying in UK! sigh...

Anyhow, its a beautiful day today. Found out stuff. Excited. Learnt from it. Loved it. Can't wait. 100% confirmed something. Thank you!

Friday, 14 January 2011

SEM is in!

It looks like technologies are progressing. Currently, the in thing to do is to take really, really close-up pictures. We tend to want to know what goes beyond the naked eye. One way to do that is through Scanning Electron Microscopes (SEM). Interesting shots below: SOURCE
Guitar string

Mascara brush

Salt and ground peppercorns

Teeth Floss: This is what we get on on the floss after flossing

Needle and thread



Thursday, 13 January 2011


A classic shot, and a memorable view for anyone who has traveled here to Reykjavík. This statue of adventurer Leifur Eiriksson, gifted to Iceland by the US in memory of his travels back in the day, stands brave and tall, silhouetted against an early winter twilight.

Tuesday, 11 January 2011

Clearing the air

Something which took so much time to be clarified and explained last night came to an end, i hope after this message:
"Over the past 24 hours..... enquiries....perceived inequity....We(lecturers) do not discriminate...Students showing initiative..."
Its just a very, very short summary :P
*Imagine a photograph here labelled 'Secret tutorial' for over a hundred ppl to view*

Coincidentally, my Daily Horoscope says:
"Discussions with those close to you could lead to the discovery of new concepts, perhaps from foreign cultures. You will want to learn more about them, Virgo, as will your friends."

We did, didn't we :)

Sunday, 9 January 2011

Screaming Dragons


Ýrr writes: This picture is taken at a birthday party for 4 year old Hildur, who is also one of the dragons in the image. She and Egill (the other dragon) are good friends and both have great imagination, often resulting in fun games and role-playing! The two dragons were jumping around and screaming their lungs out!

Photography has been a hobby of mine since I got my first DSLR camera in 2006. I Love taking pictures of "real-life" - of people, of children. Action shots, parties, events and kids playing. Of course, city-scape and Icelandic landscape and nature are also great inspirations but mostly my photos are about capturing life as I see it. "Snapshots" if you will :)

Ýrr has a B.S. in Computer Science from Reykjavík University and currently works in software for a major bank. Her photos are vivid and charming views into local life, bursting with color and somehow making even life's more mundane moments vibrant and alive. Please be sure to check out her Flickr album for more of her work.

And of course Happy New Year to everyone! Let's remember what really, truly matters in life this year, and in each moment, and be sure to breathe deeply, give thanks and hug the ones we're with!

Wishing for a Snow Day so that exams will be postphoned? Highly unlikely to happen when the forecast for next week looks like this:

How long ago was it when we had temperatures of 9 or 10 degrees in Glasgow? I can't recall.
A nice weather, but unfortunately we can't go out and play because of the major, mind boggling stressful papers on that week!

Thursday, 6 January 2011


I am lucky enough to teach at Tækniskólinn, the Technical College of Reykjavík, which rests stolidly upon the rise of Skólavörðurholt, just beside Hallgrímskirkja. Lucky to have a permanent position, lucky to work next to, for and with amazingly talented people from many technical and industrial fields, such as engineers, pilots, ships captains, carpenters, electricians, beauticians, designers, programmers, plumbers, masons and goldsmiths. Lucky to have students who let me rant my idealized, world-of-the future rants (in between mini-lectures on verbs and such.) And lucky to have a 360°view of the lovely city surrounding us.

This morning, during our first teachers meeting of the semester, I found myself absorbed by the gorgeous sunrise glowing brighter and brighter over the ridge of mountains to the east. This photo was taken with my new little compact camera pressed just up against the window with my daughter's school, Austurbæjarskóli, in the immediate foreground and the white twin church spires of Háteigskirkja just visible in the distance. As the day progressed the weather got worse, and by now, eveningtime, we are settling in for an intense 13th Night of Christmas storm.

Tuesday, 4 January 2011


It is midnight and I am hungry.. I can't wait for the day and hopefully a 'new addition' to my already crowded rooom :)

Pharm Shirts

A shirt for sale by a pharmacist at US$31.45

Monday, 3 January 2011

Spending crisis

2011's resolution: Stinge!

As of midnight tonight, VAT increases from 17.5% to 20%. Previously I was penny pinching. As of tomorrow, I'm gonna be Pound pinching extra hard!
Price increament for everything from phone bills, electrical goods, meals, train tickets etc....
Stinge.. stinge.. stinge.... aih...
Looks like the GREAT SALES will never be a good as previous ones ever again....

Whats worse is when retailers are allowed to do this:
"And until February 1, stores are being allowed by the Government to apply the 20 per cent rate by marking up the price paid at the till, rather than on shelf labels."
"It means shoppers will not know the true cost of items until they go through the checkout, raising the prospect of disputes and queues as they come to terms with being asked to pay more."

Need to stinge the math when reading shelf labels.

Saturday, 1 January 2011

Scottish food

The one thing I've always wanted to know was, "What is Scottish's food?" Every Scot I have asked could only name me one - Haggis. Some say soup! Before coming to Glasgow, I've been told to try Haggis too. SOURCE

So, I found a couple more Scottish food.. I could make one of my new year resolution as "To try all the Scottish food!"
Haggis - A Scottish Staple. A bag stuffed with minced heart, liver and lung boiled in lamb stomach.

Roasted Grouse

Abroath Smokie - Scotland's version of salted fish

Scotch eggs - Hardboiled eggs wrapped in minced sausage and coated with breadcrumbs.
This doesn't sound too hard to be eaten or made.

Black pudding - Congealed blood wrapped in intestine, battered and deep fried.