More on MrsMcCartneysTeas

We have now had approval on the bar code, and had some product shots taken of the current incarnation of the boxes which will each hold 20 teabags. You can safely expect to get 2 cups from every teabag, so the value is really good. Orders are coming in from folks who plan to give them as Christmas gifts, which is a nice feeling. All the planning, printing, research, design, legal fees etc. have eaten away at the income so far, so I am really looking forward to turning to profit so that I can donate a  percentage of the profits to the Liverpool Linda McCartney Breast Cancer charity. Thanks to all who have put their faith in the product, I really appreciate. Now that I am into my 80th year, I feel, finally, that I am getting somewhere!!

Thumbelina, the world’s smallest horse

November 18th, 2008 saw Ruth and I visiting the set of Chelsea Lately, the Chelsea Handler late night E! channel show, where we met with the 17″ tall horse, Thumbelina and his wonderful handler and mentor, Michael Goessling. Chelsea’s side-kick, Chuy, is a midget, and it seemed a natural fit for he and this dear little horse to get together. They had filmed some fantastic inserts in advance of the two of them frolicking, and bonding, culminating in Chuy reading a bed-time story to Thumby. You can see her at www.worldssmallesthorse.com. We at McCartney.com run her fanclub, i.e. at www.ifanz.com, where we collect email addresses of people who wish to be kept up to date with her activities. Michael takes her in the Thumbymobile to visit sick children, hospitals, old people’s homes etc. where her therapeutic value is incredible. She is the most adorable little creature, and took her on-camera appearances without any problems.

At the end of the show, Chelsea, Chuy and Thumbelina did a photo shoot in preparation for a Holiday card, with Christmas tree, and an electric Menorah in deference to Chelsea’s Jewish faith. It was an enchanting occasion.

Armistice Day

November llth was always called Remembrance Day when I was a kid. The Earl Haig Charity Fund would appeal for donations, and poppy sellers would be on every corner in the City, and poppies would be worn proudly to remember those who gave their lives in World War I. Then after World War II, those remembrances extended to the dead of both World Wars. There would be a concert at The Royal Albert Hall, culminating in thousands of poppies falling from the ceiling at the end of the performance.

The laying of wreaths at the Cenotaph in London was a solemn occasion, and at 11 a.m., there was a two minute silence everywhere. Buses and trams stopped. People stood still in the streets and bowed their heads in prayer, even the radio was silent. (We did not have television in those early days.)

Now, in this information age, it seems that many people are too busy to remember, and for many it is “business as usual.”

In America, where I now live, it is called Memorial Day, and all of the fallen heroes and heroines of all wars are honoured with Parades, sales in the stores, of course, mainly of mattresses and cars!! But this is America.

I listened to the Pete Price radio show, www.citytalk.fm and heard how impressed many folks were on Sunday, November 2nd 2008, when the traditional ceremony was held, to see members of all faiths together paying their tributes, Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, etc. etc.  As one caller to Pete put it: “why can’t it always be like that where people co-mingle and agree to differ on their versions of God.” Why not indeed?

My international connections

It never ceases to amaze me that, every morning, when I get up very early, and check my email, I have messages and fun stuff from Australia, England, Germany, Switzerland, Denmark, China and all over the United States. I still hark back to the times when, growing up in Norris Green, Liverpool, we would sit in the air raid shelter at the back of 3 Carr Lane and hunker down to listen to the bombers coming over and doing their thing, when my Mum would not let up on her quest to keep us in order, Mae, my eldest and grown up sister, Joan, five years my elder, and little wingeing me! Mum still ruled with a rod of iron, and insisted that we a) say our prayers, b) recite our times tables, c) do spelling bees, d) do crossword puzzles, and e) not complain. We used to have what we called “sing songs” and Joan and I would make up parodies to the famous songs of the day, and Christmas carols etc. Looking back, it was a very entertaining time, and we had no comprehension of the danger that was facing us every night. I was the runt of the family. Joan, by this time was pretty darned grown up and had her boyfriend, Peter Archer, who subsequently became her husband. Not even Hitler’s shennanigans could deter Peter from his Thursday night out with the boys, pay day, when they would go to the Wrestling at The Stadium, and armed with a few warming adult beverages, they would foray into the City, catch the last number 14 tram back to Carr Lane, and Peter would ultimately turn up at a late hour, usually with a glass of rum and peppermint in the top pocket of his best suit for his beloved Joan.

I remember one particular night, when, because it was raining, and the dirt floor of the Anderson shelter was too soggy for us to spend the night out there, that we camped out under the dining table in the house. It was a severe night when a munitions train at Clubmoor station, nearby, scored a direct hit, and the explosions carried out for many hours. As daylight broke, Joan opened her eyes, looked up at Peter sitting upright in a chair beside the dining table, stretched, yawned, and said “Thank God for a quiet night.” We had to be restrained from strangling her.

President elect Obama

The following is from The Liverpool Echo, my hometown rag, the day after Obama’s massive victory. Barack Obama’s road to the presidency started in Liverpool!

Nov 5 2008 by Catherine Jones, Liverpool Echo

BARACK OBAMA’S road to the American presidency started 150 years ago on the banks of the Mersey.

His great, great, great-grandfather sailed from Liverpool to the United States in 1850 to look for a better life.

Irishman Falmouth Kearney was a passenger on the SS Marmion which took emigrants on the Trans-Atlantic crossing from Liverpool to New York.

While the teenage Kearney, whose father was a shoemaker, headed west to escape the effects of the Irish potato famine, thousands more who had the same idea never left Liverpool, creating the city’s massive Irish community.