Carrier Bags

London, Mar 31 (ANI): Brazilian prisoners, who no longer have access to communication with the outside world, were discovered to be using carrier pigeons to get mobile phones delivered to them. Two of the pigeons were intercepted by prison guards as they were carrying mobile phones to detainees at a prison in Sorocaba, 62 miles from Sao Paolo, revealed a spokesperson for the state penitentiary system. "Penitentiary agents found the pigeons outside the Danilo Pinheiro prison but, fortunately, the birds did not have time to enter the prison building with the material," the Telegraph quoted Rosana Alberto as saying. The two birds caught on two successive days were each carrying a small bag containing a mobile phone and charger, she revealed. The use of pigeons to smuggle contraband into jail is the latest twist in an ongoing struggle by criminal networks to deliver forbidden goods into Brazil's prisons. (ANI)

The Chancellor's last minute decision not to increase business rates by five per cent tomorrow (Wednesday 1 April) is good news for beleaguered retailers and a major victory for British Retail Consortium (BRC) campaigning.

Ahead of the G20 summit in London tomorrow, the British Retail Consortium (BRC) is today (Wednesday) calling on the world's most powerful leaders to make a bold commitment to free trade as the best solution for the current worldwide recession.

Elsie held the porcelain figure in her hand and regarded it thoughtfully. She had always hated it - ever since George had first brought it home to her that day and laid it before her, proudly - almost like a cat presenting a mouse to its horrified owner. "It's horrible", she had said, contemptuously, when he had first shown it to her. "Whatever made you think I'd like that?", she had spat, making not even the slightest attempt to season her words with a hint of gratitude for the thought behind the gift. Elsie was the kind of woman who called a spade a spade and seemed proud of the fact. "It's rubbish. I won't have it in the house. Get rid of it", she had ordered, turning her attention back to her dishes. George looked hurt...crestfallen...devastated - like a little boy who had just received a sharp slap across the back of his hand as he helped himself to a biscuit intended only for visitors. "I...I thought you would like it", he had stammered, trying to hide his hurt. "Look - it's a little bear - with a hat - and a collar and tie. I thought it was cute. I'm told it's a collectable", he had finished lamely. "I'm not having it in the house", she had stated. "I don't want the ladies from my guild thinking I've lost my marbles, cluttering up my living room with cartoon ornaments. It's junk. Give it to a jumble sale - but get rid of it!", she had said. And that was that. Or at least it would have been if George hadn't been made of sterner stuff than his wife gave him credit for. He just couldn't throw out 'little Yogi', as he referred to the unwanted gift. In fact, George's affection for the figurine seemed to increase in direct proportion to his wife's hatred of it. He would tuck it away, half-hidden, behind a picture-frame or a vase until, inevitably, she would discover it and then the game of 'hide-and-seek' would begin again. Many a time she wondered why she simply did not throw it in the bin, but there was something about the face of the figure which rendered her incapable of such action; a bit like a kitten staring into your face, lovingly, as you tried to pull the trigger of the gun whose muzzle it so affectionately rubbed itself against. It was simply impossible, but she hated it - hated it with a passion. "Damn the man", she used to say. And so it went. Until the day she had received a 'phone call from George's office. Was she sitting down? They were terribly sorry. It was so sudden. He wouldn't have felt a thing. If ever there was anything they could do to help, they had said. She had placed the 'phone back on the receiver, slunk down on the chair next to it - and cried - and cried - and cried. She cried for two hours, then made herself a cup of tea, then watched Coronation Street and went to bed. She never cried again. A few months later, the sum total of George's life lay collected in an assortment of boxes and carrier bags gathered in the hall. On the top box, lying on one of George's lambswool sweaters, was the object of Elsie's loathing - that damn porcelain bear, grinning inanely at the ceiling as if it expected the ceiling to grin back. "Hark at me", she thought. "It's almost as if I thought the blasted thing was alive". She laughed at her foolishness and consoled herself with the knowledge that, from tomorrow, it would be someone else's eyesore. Sam from next door had offered to drive George's things down to the charity shop in the town. Then it would be time to forget the past and move on to the next chapter in her life. Life had begun to feel good again - a new optimism had recently begun to permeate her soul and she looked forward to the future with enthusiasm. Her years with George seemed almost like a dream. "This all there is?", Sam had asked when she opened the door to him the next day. He took out the carrier bags first then came back for the boxes. The top box was the smallest so he put that to one side and carried out the bigger, heavier ones, puffing and grunting as he did so. "Last one", he said, as he bent to pick up the box containing that damn porcelain bear. Elsie's eye fell upon it as he did so, and a strange feeling that she did not quite understand suddenly started to well-up in her innermost being. A feeling of...grief, loss, pain, remorse, pity - a kaleidoscope of emotions that threatened to overwhelm and engulf her. "Wait a minute", she heard herself saying as she plucked the figure from its place atop the sweater. "That's it, Sam. Thanks very much for all your help", she said, quietly and with a bewildered tone. Elsie held the porcelain figure in her hand and regarded it thoughtfully. She had always hated it - ever since George had first brought it home to her that day and laid it before her, proudly - like a cat presenting a mouse to its horrified owner. Now, however, she suddenly found that she held a strange affection for it. Like a mother -to-be who has been told that her child will be horribly handicapped, but, surprisingly, finds herself finds herself loving it anyway. Not grudgingly, not reluctantly - but totally and unreservedly loving it despite its flaws and handicaps, when reason would suggest that she be appalled, horrified - disgusted, even. Sometimes we are surprised to discover that we are not as hard, or as rough, or as unfeeling as we imagine ourselves to be. And so it was with Elsie. She looked at 'little Yogi' and thought of George...and remembered how much she had loved him...and realized just how much she missed him. She tenderly caressed the little figure, kissed the top of its head and, walking over to her very best display cabinet, placed it in prize position on the top shelf where visitors would be sure to see it. Then she smiled to herself and went and made herself a cup of tea, and sat and thought of all her wonderful years with George. "Bless the man", she said. And - somewhere - George was smiling to himself too. (Sorry, I was cut off. Hope it doesn't disrupt the flow too much.) Please note that NO t/ds are from me. Nice one, hydro. Now you're getting into the spirit of the game. Humour is fun, see? Prot, thank you for your glowing comments, but I do need to tidy it up. The main idea has been at the back of my head for a while, but I pressed the "ask" button and then wrote it as I went along. I'll revise it at some stage. Andy, why the surprise? Did you think I couldn't write or something? But thanks for the comments. (Won't you even give it a little kick?) Ah, but Buk...the journey is half the fun. This is really a short story in disguise. I actually think it needs expanding in places. Now, tell me (criticisms aside)...did it move you? (And I don't mean to the toilet.) There are bits that need trimmed, of course, but it WAS written on the hoof. Maybe I'll repost an edited, revised version. And when I do, Cilla, I'll generously explain the basics to you. Then your 'shopping lists' will be sure to show a vast improvement. Incidentally, the use of the word 'had' in places is to denote that these pieces of dialogue are, in effect, flashback sequences. Miss Buns, I can see why you're still single. Difficulty keeping a man, perhaps? No 4, come in...your time is up. Nice of you to describe your own comments in the first sentence.

Product development discussion with FUCHS EUROPE SCHMIERSTOFFE has proved that the telescopic closures used in the past do not fulfil the requirements of a modern closure (consumer-friendly handling and supporting requirements on safety). Together, a target was decided: the development of a telescopic closure system that should allow for easy filling of gear oil for the consumer, be easily re-closed and stored, and still offer optimum safety features. Based on the brief, Bericap developed a closure system consisting of four parts that fulfils the requirements and is in line with the target ...