Skip to main content

Dough Maker strikes out at other Dough Makers




Sir Michael Darrington is retiring.


Not heard of him? No. Neither had I. But apparently he is/was the MD of Greggs the Bakers, an outfit which, when I was a resident of Edinburgh, owned a few wee corner-shop bakers, but now seems to be taking over the world with its sausage rolls and cheese and bacon lattices.


But anyway, I blog briefly on this because whilst I was making my lunch I briefly turned on Radio 4's You and Yours, a programme which generally causes me to turn off immediately, but this gentleman was speaking very cogently about the excesses of the capitalist system. Whilst describing himself as a capitalist (and watching the onwards and upwards march of Greggs he could be described as a capitalist par excellance) he has been described as denouncing the excesses of the capitalist system in the manner of an archbishop, particularly those aspects of it that have caused the banks to lend money to speculators who have bought up foodstuffs to hoard them, driving the price up. This may cause a small increase in the cost of a Greggs' sausage roll (though they took the decision not to pass on the full cost increase to the customer apparently) but it has caused real hunger and starvation among the world's poor. I have always thouoght of the stockmarket as upmarket gambling, but this reminds us that these commodities brokers have actually been gambling with people's lives.


And the banks have been funding it. The hoarding of food AND giving usurous mortgages to people who couldn't afford it causing them to become homeless.


Why did we bail out this bunch of immoral so and sos (I would actually prefer to use a stronger word here, but I won't)? I know that the entire western economy may have irretrievably broken down if we hadn't but maybe that would ultimately have been better for the poor.






Comments

Popular posts from this blog

A Woman of no Distinction

Don't often post other people's stuff here... But I found this so powerful that I thought I should. It's a performance poem based on John 4: 4-30, and I have attached the original YouTube video below. A word for women, and men, everywhere... "to be known is to be loved, and to be loved is to be known." I am a woman of no distinction of little importance. I am a women of no reputation save that which is bad. You whisper as I pass by and cast judgmental glances, Though you don’t really take the time to look at me, Or even get to know me. For to be known is to be loved, And to be loved is to be known. Otherwise what’s the point in doing either one of them in the first place? I WANT TO BE KNOWN. I want someone to look at my face And not just see two eyes, a nose, a mouth and two ears; But to see all that I am, and could be all my hopes, loves and fears. But that’s too much to hope for, to wish for, or pray for So I don’t, not anymore. Now I keep to myself And by that

Psalm for Harvest Sunday

A short responsive psalm for us as a call to worship on Harvest Thanksgiving Sunday, and given that it was pouring with rain as I headed into church this morning the first line is an important remembrance that the rain we moan about is an important component of the fruitfulness of the land we live in: You tend the land and water it And the earth produces its abundance. You crown each year with your bounty, and our storehouses overflow with your goodness. The mountain meadows are covered with flocks and the valleys are filled with corn; Your people celebrate your boundless grace They shout for joy and sing. from Psalm 65

Anointed

There has been a lot of chatter on social media among some of my colleagues and others about the liturgical and socio-political niceties of Saturday's coronation and attendant festivities, especially the shielding of the anointing with the pictured spoon - the oldest and perhaps strangest of the coronation artefacts. Personally I thought that was at least an improvement on the cloth of gold canopy used in the previous coronation, but (pointless) debates are raging as to whether this is an ancient practice or was simply introduced in the previous service to shield the Queen from the TV cameras, not for purposes of sacredness, but understandable coyness, if she actually had to bare her breast bone in puritan 1950s Britain. But as any church leader knows, anything performed twice in a church becomes a tradition. All this goes to show that I did actually watch it, while doing other things - the whole shooting match from the pre-service concert with yer wumman in that lemon-