Dear Tesco:

I’d just like to bring to your attention a bit of misleading packaging on one of your own brand SimplyCook meals, chicken BBQ breasts withhunters style sauce. The front of the packet shows a chicken breast which looks yummy but on the back in much smaller writing it also says that it contains maple cure bacon. I think this should be more prominent on the packet because I bought it in error as i don’t eat bacon. I have kindly donated it to a hungry friend of mine but I just wanted to bring it to your attention,

Regards

Clem Silverman

EDIT

Result! Victory for annoying complaining!

Dear Mr Silverman,

Thank you for your email.

I’d like to apologise that there has been a delay in responding to your email. We are experiencing high volumes of contact, and therefore we have not been able to respond to our customers as quick as we would have hoped. Your patience has been greatly appreciated.

I am very sorry to learn that you are unhappy with the labelling of our Simply Cook Hunters Chicken meal. I can appreciate how disappointing it must have been for you to realise that you could not eat the dish, since you do not eat bacon. I do apologise for your disappointment.

Bacon is a key ingredient of all “Hunters Chicken” recipes, and I apologise that we hadn’t made this clear on the front of our packaging. Our suppliers have confirmed that because the bacon was not one of our main ingredients of this dish, they did not find it necessary to communicate this on the front of the packaging, as this may mislead our customers in to presuming that there would be a large content of bacon within this dish.

Our Design Team try very hard to make sure that the illustration and the wording on our packaging is a good example of the content. We regularly invite customer panels to review product samples in our own kitchens and amend any felt unsuitable, as soon as possible. I have passed on your comments through to our suppliers, for their consideration.

However, I appreciate your disappointment, and I’d like to send to you a £5.00 Tesco Moneycard, with my best wishes. Please would you be so kind as to forward to me your full postal address so that I may send out this Moneycard at the earliest opportunity?

Thank you for taking the time to contact us. I look forward to hearing from you shortly

No clock!

That’s the most annoying thing about the basic model of the Chevrolet Spark (1.0l) Jordan and I rented for our jaunt around Cape Town and South Africa. But it did take us just around 4000km – so we became rather attached to the little thing. This is a blog post dedicated to Sparky.

We didn’t actually nick-name it Sparky. 

The £6,000 car has novelty wind down windows, rather than the usual electric ones. That’s OK for cruising around Cape Town, and we had no need to exercise our arms too much on account of the air conditioning. It took us to the beautiful beaches of Camp’s Bay and Clifton, where it blended in with all the other Audi R8s and Ferraris. We drove it up Signal Hill above the city skyline and watch the sun sink down into the sea somewhere the Atlantic and Indian Ocean meet. The handling was demonstrated to be excellent as we wound around Chapman’s Peak Drive to see the famous Captonian wind whip up the sea into a spray, and then blow a forest fire across the hill side.

Being a white the car, it felt very much at home on the streets of Cape Town – most of the other cars were white too… (insert astutely observed observation about the political and social make up of South Africa in here)

Then we decided to test the speed and headed out of Cape Town. Jordan’s mate Nick lives in Jo’Burg so we basically aimed to give him a lift home. Hours and hours of driving passed by broken only by the beauty of the scenery and the need to refill the HUGE 20l tank.  Dodging animals and people wandering aimlessly into the motorway, the little beast took us over mountains on to Plettenberg Bay. There we viewed the worlds largest aviary, home to Zamatt: the notorious necklace thief. Previously owned by Simon (Nick’s cousin) but donated to the sanctuary, the bird still remembers his previous owner. To our wonderment the cockatoo came flying out of nowhere, landed on his shoulder, bobbed his head in acknowledgement and then flew off with his new feathered mate – a pink headed cockatoo.

Pothell.

The car came into its own on the drive from Plett to Coffee Bay. All eleven hours of it. Stopping off briefly in the preserved colonial town of Grahamstown, we needed all our strength from Steers burgers to tackle the potholed ridden HELL that was the road down to the coast. We had an unsavoury brush with some less than trustworthy fellows at the filling station. Jordan then did a marvellous job of navigating the moon craters on the way down the seemingly endless road to Coffee Bay.

Coffee Bay is mostly full of hippies and German backbackers. There is a hike you can do to a place called Hole In the Wall, where the attraction is: a hole in a wall. We found out that unfortunately people seemed determined to con us out of money on this part of the trip.

Unsatisfied we braved the only road back out again. Luckily Nick’s wonderful holiday home was only a few hours up the coast. There we could enjoy a good braii, swim in the sea and get our washing done by the maid.

A few days later, refreshed and raring to go, we drove up towards the St Lucia coast to see some wildlife. We spent a couple of nights at Isinkwe backbackers surrounded by electric fencing – which meant the omens were good. Next door to the backpackers was a big cat rehab centre (not an Amy Winehouse style rehab centre for cats on crack) where we could get close to and cuddle some cheetah. We also took a boat ride on the lake at St Lucia to watch the hippo and crocodiles wallow in the shallow waters.

A ‘journey’.

Not a zebra crossing

The car hit it’s 3000k milestone inside the Hluhluwe-Imfolosi game park. It carried us over some authentic dirt tracks and we did see some prettyawesome animals. In the dark I could see the eyes of hyena lit up in the brake lights. We were never sure if there was an elephant, or ajourney of girraffe around the corner. I mean, how many rhino does it take to get bored of them? The answer is many!

So leaving the game park behind (without seeing any lions), we hit the final leg up to Johannesburg. This was to be a simply blast up the motorway…until we encountered the hundred or so miles of road works that seem to be a hangover from the World Cup. Instead of just restricting traffic, they chaotically hold up a whole line for up to half an hour and then let you drive over the untreated road surface for miles on end. What should have been a breezey 4 hour drive took us at least double that. And it was stressful avoiding all of those potentially deposit losing potholes. I was paranoid that a knock sustained in a ditch in the game park had sprung a leak under the engine compartment.

Eventually we made it to Nick’s family home in a lovely part of Johannesburg. We swam in his pool and gave the car a deep clean inside and out to shed the dust of 4000 kilometers. It was sad to let it go at the airport, it had served us well over 3 weeks. Let’s just hope that no speeding tickets come out of the blue in the next few weeks…

All four of us

Young people from Great Missenden and surrounding towns and villages came out to say no to the proposed line that will cut through the Misbourne Valley if it goes ahead. A class from the Great Missenden School performed a play to a crowd of more than a thousand in Buryfields to show how it could affect their lives.

Somewhere to Someplace

Felicity Simpson told the crowd she was worried about ‘horrible trucks and lorries’ that would make her local roads dangerous. As spokesperson for the under-18s, she was worried about safety during building of the line that would only be going from ‘somewhere to someplace’. She warned the government that they must listen to the voices of young people as they will be voters in the future.

Erica, 10, from a village near by didn’t want it to be built through the woods she and her friends go walking in. ‘Who’s going to pay 200 pounds to go a bit faster’ at the expense of people’s houses, it’s ‘horrible’, she said.

Other children had concerns about the noise. They could have trouble concentrating at school if the line passed through the grounds of The Misbourne. The teachers would have to stop every two minutes as the train passed.

The sound of a train was played to create an impression of the noise impact on the surrounding area.

The rally was organised by HS2 Action Alliance. Two local MP’s Cheryl Gillan and David Lidington came out in support; she described the impact as ‘enormous’ whilst he said people should ‘work together’ and create a ‘force of argument to preserve this landscape’

The Prime Minister David Cameron attended the fireworks in Great Missenden the night before, but did not take up the offer of an invitation to Sunday’s HS2 rally, according to Buckinghamshire county councillor Martin Tett.

Carrying trains at 250mph from London to Birmingham, the line would cut journey times from 90 to 50 minutes. When it is extended, it is estimated that times to Manchester, Leeds and Scotland will be nearly half what they are now and it is hoped that it will link to High Speed 1 taking trains in to France.

We arrived in the beautifully rustic village of Snape to provide 3 workshops over the weekend for the Snape Malitings shops, galleries and concert halls. Holly Burrows gave the kids a taste of her illustration skills making Twit Masks and Patricia West – the Museum’s animator in residence – held one hour sessions making stop-frame-animation films of children floating and spinning and wiggling like a snake.

Of course, Mathew Stubbings and I were the storytellers, and I think we went down a treat!

‘Many parents said they have not enjoyed such a good belly laugh like that in ages! The children were enthralled so all in all a great day’

Someone even recorded us on audio boo! http://audioboo.fm/boos/205026-snape-maltings-roald-dahl-book-reading

http://www.clemsilverman.com for more storytelling

After you jostle through the crowds massing at the Mondial de l’Automobile, you’ll see that everyone seems to be crowding round the new Ferrari California or queuing to get a close up look at the Lotus Elise, the Porches and even the Bentleys are being mobbed. But what the organisers would like you to believe is that everyone is getting excited about electric cars.

A lot of media coverage in France has been drooling over this sexy looking Renault concept, run purely off batteries called the DeZir (or Desire to you and me) it partners the more practical Zoe concept which is supposed to answer the planet’s prayers for cleaner cars. The DeZir’s selling points are that it’s got “10kW (147.5bhp) and 226Nm of torque. That, says Renault, is sufficient for a 0-60mph time of 5 seconds, a top speed of 112mph and a range of 100 miles”. Wow. Great. Fantastic. But does it go brum?

It seems that most people who like cars, buy cars or just know what a car is, prefer it to make a sound that in an onomatopoeic way, goes brum. Or nneeeeeoooowwwwww. But never hummmmmm. If I wanted an electric vehicle I’ll get on the train. The way the Jubilee line sings as it pulls out of a station is just lovely. But when I put my foot down on the accelerator I want BRUM goddamnit. Even the tiny tin box of death Fiat Seicento (sporting) I used to have had a brum, and that practically had no engine at all. When I can one day, god-willing, afford to have a decent car, I want the car of my dreams. An Aston, a Ferrari that makes other car alarms go off due to the guttural grumblings of the engine. Not Tesla silent gliding nonsense, no matter how much they try to sex up a sub-station on wheels.

There were lots of little manufactures with stands like this one, with a small electric concept city transport excuse for a car, that actually might be quite good if you lived in a huge metropolis and you couldn’t man up and cycle or get a motorbike. But otherwise what’s the point? No-one wants this. There were no crowds around this, other than a passing “ooh that looks interesting” mumble.

Eventually all cars will be electric, and it’s probably a very good ida to help save the environment and stop our lungs being choked up. I really hope that all the cars one day will be; in the I, Robot world where we only keep the odd sports car or motorbike in the garage that still runs on petrol for cool robot ass-kicking police officers, kind of way. I just wish all whole electric gimmick wasn’t forced down my throat for huge companies wanting a bit of greenwash bullshit publicity, when all I really want is to have a car that goes brum brum!

Maybe we’ll get to see online pioneers like Oxfordshire’s very own http://www.witneytv.co.uk/ move onto our local digital TV or satellite services. This BBC article points out that our Birmingham with a population of over a million has no local television, whereas Birmingham, Alabama has a total of 8 despite being much a much smaller place.

This is great news, we can now look forward to the classic semi-amateur channels that you get in America. They provide great coverage of news, weather and have cheesy grinning presenters on shows like Good Morning Alabama. Maybe people will be tuning into Hello Hull, or Sunrise Southampton (the possibilities are endless).

Great news for the hundreds or thousands of people who have the skills and the equipment to make it happen. All those journalist churned out each year (including myself) who can do everything from web development to putting together a TV package, but are stuck somewhere in limbo where there are no jobs in print and broadcasters aren’t exactly dishing out opportunities. We can do all of this. Westminster MA class of 2010 could put together a half decent news programme twice a week for 5 weeks, so why not an entire channel? Just give us the equipment and off we go.

But it’s harder than that. As local radio is finding, there is no money and limited demand in this country. What we need – and what is being proposed by the the culture secretary, Jeremy Hunt – is the loosening of regulations that will allow companies to own a paper and a radio station. Or a radio station and a TV channel in a local area. There are big towns and cities in Britain who’s residents are severely under represented.

Come on step forward PSBs (public service broadcasters) and see if this can’t work. I know a bunch of people who’d be happy to help. Gi’us a job!

Getting sweaty up Primrose Hill was worth it

My Bunbury on a Boris bike couldn’t have started better

The membership key (£3) arrived the day after I ordered it from Transport for London and I was bursting from when it was first announced to give this a go, though I’m very casual peddler and ever rarer an actual cyclist. Cycling in London does seem scary with all the traffic and the lycra clad one-speed racers out there. Still – I’d rather stare death in the face than put my face in someone’s armpit on the Tube sometimes.

Yes, there have been teething problems: the full roll out to casual users is postponed until September and some of the docking stations haven’t been installed yet. But this ambitious project to bring the success of the Parisian Velib to London was always going to be a challenge in a city area twice the size but with smaller and busier streets.

I took my blue Barclays branded bike from just outside Marylebone station. The key worked, the green light came on, and I yanked the front wheel out of the slender dock. The first thing I noticed was the weight – it’s really heavy basically. Built to withstand rough handling no doubt.

The seat was easy to adjust and comfy too. I tucked my rain mac and newspaper (classic London gentleman, me) into the rather rubbish token magazine rack with a bungie cord attached to the front, and put foot to pedal.

Shaky, wobbly and ungainly I was for the briefest of moments, before confidently powering off in top gear  - there are three – tearing up to the first junction with the automatic lights flashing both front and back. And the thing just glides beautifully. The weight is comforting and solid. Bumps aren’t a problem and before I knew it I was half way round Regent’s Park, ding-dinging my little bell. People smiled and pointed “look! it’a a Boris bike!” I felt like a pioneer, bringing blue cycling love to the pedestrianised plebbs rooted to the pavement.

And there’s no traffic in London! Seriously. Get away from the main busy roads, and all the backstreets in Soho, Marylebone, Kensington, St Johns wood and its like being anywhere else. I think we all get tied into the image of Marylebone Road at Baker St with busses and traffic jams and lorries and scary scary black cabs baring down on you relentlessly.

My confidence soon turned into folly. After missioning up Primrose Hill in 15 mins for the views, I whizzed down to Camden to find a docking station. I’d already gone over the free 30 mins, well into the £1 for an hour and could be risking going into £6 territory. Error. Big roads, no docking station. Lots of tourists jumping out into the road, no docking station. “look, there’s one of them Boris bikes”, yes yes, but I don’t want it anymore. I went to Camden Town station. “Hi there, where’s the nearest place to dump this”, I asked cheerily, “no idea” they said. Unhelpful. My time was running out.  Quick quick up to Camden Road Station. “Seen a docking station?” “Not round ‘ere, seen one at Euston though”, quick quick pedal pedal down to Euston then.

Luckily London is smaller than you think.

Within a couple of minutes I was baring down on Sommers Town, just behind Euston, and there I saw welcoming sight of blue topped street column and a line of Boris bikes. With three minutes to spare I firmly docked my wheel, waited a few tense seconds, the light went green and I stood to get my breath back.

I took the tube back to Marylebone – but I know that in the future I won’t have to. But I will take a map next time!

Being in a big newsroom at BBC London shows just how much goes into the news production and indeed the BBC that sometimes we take for granted. The huge resources behind all the journalists at the BBC, all the news feeds from the wires coming in and reporters with cameras and microphones on the ground spoils us for choice.

With a catchment of 8 million plus people, the size of a small country, the London area can seem like a different country. Yet the radio station still manages to acquire a local feel, bringing the common gripes of tube delays together with the hard news stories from across the Capital. It does phone ins, chat, light entertainment, music: lots.

And that’s what people expect from a local radio station. What with news being so London centric anyway, all the other big newsy channels covering loads, the challenge is to find stories that really speak to people. Like the murder of a teenager or Boris’ cycling follies.

Back at the beginning of June I went to a journalism conference where Boris Johnson mused over who it was that ran Britain. He said, polititians have to whip hand, but must be held to account by a strong press. And I found that in evidence even here in little local London. Collecting an award, BBC middle east correspondent Jeremy Bowen said that telling the truth ought to be putting people’s noses out of joint.

Seeing how is all works (just like how our newsroom worked at uni – except infinitely more professional and on a bigger scale) makes me excited and happy to be in that environment. Breakfast show tomorrow – early start!

Victoria Hollins

Rather than hit the regular sites I instead headed off to the Musée Jacuemart-André housed in a grand residence set back off the Boulevard Haussmann. To get to the entrance you had to follow in the carriage tracks of 18th century socialites as they made their way under the building via a drive way that led to the back of the house where the proprietors Edouard André and Nélie Jacquemart would great you with a sumptuous reception room capable of holding up to a thousand people. Here they showed off their vast private art collection, as well as a more intimate display of fine Florentine and 15th century Venetian painters meant only for the very closest of friends to view. Mantegna, Bellini or Carpaccio, Botticelli, Botticini and Perugino are all here.

The house is also used as an exhibition space for other artists. At the moment there is a focus on Spanish painters – in particular some notable pieces from Dali.

Very well worth a visit.

And if you’re searching for a good view; you can go no better than the free terrace on top of Les Galeries Lafayette – an absolutely stunning vista looking out over the roof-tops and a fantastic opportunity to leave your girlfriend downstairs shopping whilst you chill out. Here was the site of one of the very first crash landings – someone landed a plane on the roof right in the heart of Paris – deliberately

Galeries Lafayette promised 25 000 Francs to the aviator who could successfully land their plane on the terrace of the store. On January 19th, 1919, Jules Védrines took off from Issy-Les-Moulineaux at 12: 40 aboard his Gaudron G3 aeroplane and landed it a few minutes later at the store. He was awarded the grand prize, but was given a 16-Franc ticket for having flown over Paris and landing in a forbidden area. Click HERE for more history of the store.