Author: anneethompson

Letter to a Sister : Brazil

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20th June

Showered, breakfast then left Cult Hotel in Recife. Was glad to survive shower, which has electrical wires coming out the top, was hard to relax when using it. Also left the room with some added duct tape, which David had used to seal the massive gap around the aircon unit. It worked – we got no mosquitoes ( which was important as they carry dengue fever here) but I’m not sure the bright red tape blended very well with the dingy brown decor.
Apparently all the electricity is slightly weird in Brazil. Was certainly a challenge to bring the correct power adaptors, as the plugs seem to change from region to region. ( If you plan to visit, bring a range!)
We also left the rather sexual art displays at the hotel. On the first evening the team leader led us in a time of prayer. It is the first time I have ever prayed next to a large statue of an erect phallus, while sitting below a painting of a naked woman ( who definitely had not had ‘a Brazilian’!) Tearfund trips are always unexpected.
Drove for a couple of hours to Coqueral. Interesting drive, passed lots of small communities, people driving horse and carts, big lorries. Rained hard a few times.
Coqueral is a small farming town (1,500 people.) The area did not really support that many farmers, the town was off a track beyond a track, most people were unemployed and on benefits. The pastor told us they were ” less poor in money” than the people we saw yesterday but ” more poor in the mind”. I don’t think he meant they all had ‘special educational needs’, more that a sense of hopelessness pervaded the town.

They had a lot of knife crime and alcohol addiction. We didn’t see any teenaged drug addicts though, which is good as I found it very difficult to just walk past them yesterday and leave them in their mess ( and I just know my family would be cross if I arrive home with a selection of drug addicted boys – never mind that I wouldn’t have the first idea how to help them.)
It is StJohn’s festival time ( seemed like our harvest festival but is cultural, not religious.) The children at the mission hall had decorated the hall with plaited banana leaves and dressed in costumes and make up. They danced for us, a bit like a barn dance. I certainly didn’t feel the display was too short. We then joined in, which they thought was hilarious, especially as most of us were wearing the ‘aid worker’ sensible outfit of long sleeved shirts, long trousers and massive walking boots ( look really ugly and no good for dancing in but when you’re wading through raw sewage in the slums, fashion doesn’t seem so important.)
We had lunch there, which was a bit unusual. They seem to eat a lot of carbs here ( I had spaggetti and rice for my lunch, as salad might be washed in local water and I didn’t feel like eating meat.) They also have a fizzy drink, which is everywhere and has a picture of something like cherries on it but isn’t cherry. Was comfortingly synthetic. Barbie stuck with coke.
Drove for about 5 more hours. Someone put a religious CD on. David ranted at length about the quality of the music ( for the length of the song in fact.)
Arrived in Afogados. Staying at Hotel Brotas, which is quite like a motel. Room full of mosquitoes and ants ( will use lots of deet while here.) D busy rigging up a mosquito net to sleep under. Am hoping it doesn’t involve anything too structural.
Take care,
Anne xxx

Letter to a Sister : Brazil

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. Fri 19th June

Just got back from visiting the slums. We go to dinner in an hour and tomorrow we leave early, so forgive the errors in this. I’ll write you a more organized article when I’m home, I just want to give you a splurge of words so you understand something of the day’s experience.

We started off going to Instituto Solidare. This was on the edge of the city and was a concrete building with big gates that locked. We could see teenagers playing football in a large covered area. We were taken upstairs, shown into a classroom and joined by about six of the workers. We all introduced ourselves – I got to use my Portuguese, very exciting! We then learned a little of their work. They began by having different projects, run by the church but then realised that actually there was a disconnect between what they believed and what they were doing. They needed to be part of the community, not just doing the odd project, they wanted the projects to BE the church. They see their worship as what they are doing.

They began with working with children, this extended to teenagers, then whole families and then the community. There is a huge problem with prostitution, drugs and the violent crime that goes with it. They aim to remove the kids from the streets, to occupy their time with lessons, sports, a proper meal, then they go to school in the afternoon and spend the evening with their parents. They are then hopefully, too tired to get into trouble.

We looked around the institute, then walked around the community. The houses were small, unmade roads, lots of dogs. The river was where all the toilets empty. In the rainy season ( June and July) the river floods, taking the sewage into the houses. Many of the houses had moved all their furniture upstairs. It was hot, lots of flies, lots of dogs wandering around. We saw young men strutting, with hard faces, appraising eyes. There were children, cute, smiling, wanting to be in photgraphs. Then the other teenagers, the ones with thin faces, dead eyes, wasted bodies. As a mother, it broke my heart to see them. They have mothers, somewhere. They are feeding their lives into hungry addictions, dead before they have known what it is to live.

We went to another favela. This one seemed much poorer, it felt unsafe walking around ( we were told to leave all our bags and cameras in the car. We just took our phones for pictures.)The homes were made of cardboard, hardboard, odd bits of wood and scaffold. It smelt, litter was everywhere. I photographed beautiful children sharing bags of crisps, giggling. They lived in the equvilant of a shack. It felt hopeless.

Yet there was hope. Tearfund are working with their partners to educate the people, to teach them about flood control, clearing up litter. They are teaching them skills so they can find work, things like making jewelry from discarded stuff, metal work. They are lobbying the government, trying to get better housing, more respect for the people.

It wasn’t a horrid day, though I feel exhausted by all we have seen. We laughed with children who were playing a game with David. Some teenaged girls had done a play about clearing up litter, which they had performed to their neighbours in the flavella. They were so proud of it, wanted to take us to where they had done it, sang us some of the songs. We chatted a bit and they laughed when I told them I have chickens and ducks. I wanted to scoop them up, bring them out of the favella to somewhere safe, somewhere that they wont probably end up as sex workers. I cant. All I can do is pray, support the work that Tearfund is doing. And tell you about it.

Will do a proper article with photos etc when I’m home.

Take care,

Anne xx

Letter to a Sister :Brazil

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wednesday 17th June, continued

Swam, briefly, was cold. Then went in hot tub. I cannot see the point of hot tubs, its too much like having a bath with lots of other people. Then a man got in who I would definitely NOT want to have a    bath with. Left. Changed in a toilet. Not ideal.

Met Ken and Barbie for cocktails. Mine was perfect. Ken said he had checked tomorrow’s flight and it left at 7am, which was odd as he’d thought it left at midday. D checked on laptop. Turned out that TAM airlines had changed our flight times (5 hours earlier) but decided not to mention it. Interesting decision.

Waitress brought unusual looking snacks to eat with our cocktails. Barbie tucked in enthusiastically. D then told her they were dried donkey foreskins. Didn’t deter her.

Nice dinner in hotel restaurant. Then packed small bag to take to poorer area of Brazil and stored luggage with hote

Thursday 18th June

Got airport very early. This was lucky as check in on airport computer took a while. It printed out boarding cards which resembled the crunchy variety of toilet paper – lots ofs perforations. Ken’s machine had run out of paper, so he had to fetch someone to refill it. It then spat out all the last few boarding cards and half of his.

Flight okay. Landed in Recife. Raining hard. Lots of aggressive people in airport offering taxis, which you just knew would turn out to be an expensive ‘limo’ service. Found official taxi rank. By the time the taxi arrived at hotel it had stopped raining but was so humid my glasses steamed up!

Area is very mixed. We saw some expensive cars and very nice housing. Also saw a family sharing a bike, small roadside stalls selling fruit, lots of concrete. When we stopped at red lights, people walked amongst the cars selling stuff ( like steering wheel covers)  and there was a man juggling in the road.

Staying at Cult Hotel. Has some interesting art – mainly phalic in style. It’s clean but basic. No mirror in room but a massive tele.

Met the other people on our trip and had dinner in nice restaurant next to sea.

Better go now, have to meet everyone in lobby. We’re going to Instituto Solidare. Main info we’ve been given isa the high murder rate. Super.

Sorry for any mistakes, writing in a rush on D’s ipad in a dark humid corner of room.

Take care

Anne xx

Letter to a Sister : Brazil

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Arrived in Rio after long flight. Really really long flight. We (David and I plus friends:Barbie and Ken) were met at airport by hotel driver. Bit of a squash fitting cases into boot due to two large gas cannisters. I thought he had brought along his scuba diving gear (silly man) then learned that they were full of natural gas, it was a gas powered car (silly me).
His ticket didn’t open the exit barrier, so he went and parked in deserted car park. He did NOT then draw a gun and ask for all our valuables, he just apologized and went to pay for parking. Clearly has watched different films about Rio to me.

Checked in at Sheraton Hotel. Nice. Discovered I had forgotten to turn off ‘data roaming’ on my phone and had already been charged £26:04 for excess internet. Good old Three Mobile. (Not nice.)
Was surprisingly difficult to get into a lift going in the right direction to find our room. Must’ve been more tired than I realised.

Hotel nice. Our room overlooks beach and has a little balcony. D complained sea was too noisy (such a romantic.)
Showered, ate a burger, slept really well. Until 4am.

Wednesday 17th June
Opened curtains and watched dawn break over the sea. Beautiful. D explained what several of the viewpoints were. There are two lumpy hills called ‘The Two Brothers’, Ipanema beach, Leblon, etc. He told me the small beach by the hotel is called Viagra beach. Pretty sure he was lying.

Met Ken and Barbie for breakfast. Friendly staff, good buffet, ate overlooking sea. Tried some pretty tasteless papya and some very nice melon. Coffee average.

Walked to Ipanema beach. Saw Corcovada Hill with big Jesus statue on it. Saw a ‘muscle beach’ with people working out, doing pull-ups, etc. Lots of muscle. Barbie joined in (went on a swing.) I paddled in the sea (cold).
Saw people playing volleyball. Beach not too crowded. Sun gradually burnt of cloud and it warmed up, though didn’t get too hot. Saw coconuts for sale and some growing in trees. You can buy fresh coconut milk at beach stalls.

David and Ken discussed birds on beach (feathered variety.) Interesting shape, big and black and white. Tried to look them up in guide book but it concentrates mainly on nightclubs. Surprising really.

Lunch by pool. Barbie had coconut milk, served in the shell. Looked really cool but she said was a bit tasteless. I used my best Portuguese (first time I have used it) and ordered a mineral water, still, no ice. I received a water, sparkling, with ice. Considered it a success (they understood the water bit.)

Sun disappeared behind hill disappointingly fast. By 3pm we were sitting in the shade. Tomorrow we go to Recife, then off to see some Tearfund projects.

Am writing this on D’s computer, keep hitting wrong key and losing everything. Also not yet figured our how to add photos. Will aim to improve by end of trip.

Take care
Anne xx

Letters to a sister 9

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Cassie (black labrador) died last week. I couldn’t write about it at the time, was too busy crying. She was old for a lab – 14 – and she was losing the feeling in her back legs, pooped without knowing it and her sight and hearing were pretty much gone. I didn’t mind clearing up after her, I owed her that much, she has given the family so much joy over the years. And until recently she has seemed happy enough. She mainly slept but so did the old cat and they snuggled together in her bed, so she had company, she still got excited at meal times and once a day she would go for a plod around the garden. But then she stopped wagging her tail and began to seem frightened by things, so it seemed kinder to let her go. Horrible decision. I had so hoped I would just find her dead one morning but in the end we felt it was time to take her to the vets, to put her to sleep before her life became a torment of fear at not seeing and unhappiness if I didn’t clean up her bed fast enough.

Although I knew she was ready to go, that it was the kindest thing to do, it was still hard, I still cried most of the weekend. It also makes me look harshly at life when someone/something I cherish dies. What is the point of it all? Life is so short, such a brief time of healthy happiness before we all decline, what is it that keeps us going? Why do we strive so hard to stay alive? And how will I cope when/if I lose those closest to me?

I look at the elderly people we cook for on Fridays. Most of them were married, had children, jobs, hobbies. Yet now, for the most part, they live alone, they cope with everything by themselves as their bodies deteriorate and everything gets harder. It seems to them like yesterday that they were vibrant, powerful in their own life, now they are becoming more and more dependent on others. How does that feel? How will I cope when that happens to me?

Maybe we are not meant to look ahead too far. If we trust in God (and deep down I do, I just have blips every so often, times when it all seems a bit scary ahead) then perhaps trusting him is all that matters. We do not know when or how our life will end, only that it will and that was always part of the plan, an intended consequence of having lived. Perhaps it is the now that matters, rather than the past or the future.

I know that what is in my past is finished, that those things I am proud of are not important anymore, that the things I did wrong have been forgiven. The future is a void, I cannot even predict what will happen this afternoon, in the next hour, I can only make a good guess and plan accordingly. But now, this actual moment in time, is mine. I can decide what I will do, how I will act, think, behave. And because I do not know what will happen in the next hour, what phone calls I might receive, accidents or happy surprises, then the most sensible thing would be to rely on God.

We are on a timeline, we can see the past, live in the present but the future is invisible.
(As an aside, did you know that the chinese language actually shows this in the words it uses. So the future is ‘behind’ you, because you cannot see it. It is like sitting on a train looking backwards. All the words relating to past are in front, before, you and all the words relating to future are behind you. I love that language!)
However, God is outside of time, above the line if you like. He can see my past and future and present all at the same time. So surely it makes sense to ask him for help when I live my present, to ask for his guidance as I stumble through this bit of life, doing the best that I can.

I guess if I am honest, I don’t really know what ‘the point of life’ is, especially when I get to the really tough, lonely bits of it. But God does, I really do think he has a plan and so I will just trust him on this one. I will cry for my dog, because I miss her, but I will know that her life (and mine) are not futile. There is a point, I just don’t know it yet.

Take care,
Anne xx

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Letters to a Sister 8

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Last week Mags cooked at the lunch club. She always makes huge lemon meringue pies. After they had eaten, one old lady came into the kitchen and said she kept meaning to ask for the recipe, was it a family secret or could Mags bring it for her? Mags said she would. After she had gone, Mags admitted she wouldn’t really know what to write on said recipe as the pies are packet mixes from Morrisons!

It’s the end of Spring. England does Spring so well, not like some seasons when you can’t be sure where you are in the year. I remember when we lived in the US, Spring came and went in a flash, if you blinked you missed it. Here we’ve had bulbs everywhere, bluebells in the woods, so much life. Not sure if I usually don’t notice because I’m too busy or if writing helps me to see better. I just walked Kia. There was a cuckoo calling, a deer in the field next to the house, baby rabbits hiding in the hedgerow. We saw a baby thrush perched on the bottom rung of a fence, looking all lost with its spotty tummy and baby fluff round its head. No idea where its mother was, probably having a heart attack in a nearby bush when she saw a monster german shepherd sniffing her offspring!

Last year when I was walking Kia I saw a baby deer. She had seen the mother and gone off on a long chase (still doesn’t realise that she cannot leap over hedges like deer can.) I was standing there, shouting at her departing back (futile activity) when I saw something ‘hop’ in the corn. Thought it was a rabbit at first, then went nearer and saw it was a tiny fawn. So cute. Worried that it may be abandoned due to disobedient dog chasing away mother. Went home and told James that he needed to come with me tomorrow and if baby was still there, we (he) would be carrying it home.

Was unclear how I would explain to David we had a deer living in the shed. Also some concerns over ticks, but ignored them.

Anyway, next day we set off.James asked if deer should be moved or if it was the same as when you find baby birds and you should leave them where you find them. Told him I had no idea. He then used fancy phone to google it and find out info. (Oh to be young and to understand how fancy phones work! )
Anyhow, he informed me that deer are born and left by the mother, who returns regularly to feed them until they are big enough to leap over hedges. They have no scent, so are safe from predators as they lie very still in long grass and are rarely seen. Pretty clever.
We decided to therefore leave deer where it was and just took some photos. Though it would have been SO cool to have a pet deer!

We have agreed to go on a charity trip with Tearfund to Brazil. Will visit their projects in the slums (which apparently I am not meant to call the slums, but it makes it clear that we’re not going to posh hotels.) Slightly worried we might get shot (you will be on mother duty. Ha!) though have been assured we’ll be safe.
Is bit of a logistical nightmare arranging someone to live here and look after two dogs, six cats, six chickens (including two cockerels who definitely have an evil look in their eyes) and fourteen ducks. Seems to be pretty much sorted.

I have tried to learn Portuguese. Got the duolingo app for my phone. It is impossibly difficult. Everything changes depending on who says it and whether the thing is masculine or feminine. Even “thank you” changes if I say it or a man says it. Crazy. What makes an object masculine anyway? Who decides these things? Am hoping to meet only English speakers or Mandarin speakers. David assures me this is unlikely.
One of Mimi’s friends lived in Brazil for a while and she has given me a couple of lessons (think she is a bit surprised at how slow I am!) In an effort to look keen I bought some dvds from Amazon. Could not understand a single word, not even ‘Hello’ or ‘thank you’ (which I definitely sort of know.) Complained to friend who looked at dvds and told me they were Spanish. Ah. Felt rather stupid (but she laughed for ages!)

Take care,
Anne xxx

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Kittens still cute.
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Should Companies Pay Tax? (Tax 102)

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     Image 15 IMG_2397

     The Conservative’s recent manifesto claimed they would, ” raise at least five billion from continuing to tackle tax evasion and aggressive tax avoidance and tax planning.” However, in the Queen’s Speech (May 2015) no new bill was mentioned. Does it matter? What does it mean anyway?

To begin with, we need to look at what the terms ‘tax evasion’ and ‘tax avoidance’ mean. They are not the same. Tax evasion is against the law. It is when your friendly builder doesn’t declare all his earnings, so he is not taxed on them. It’s illegal and if he is caught he can be prosecuted.

Recently, there has been more focus on tax avoidance. This is completely legal and is when you set up your financial affairs so that you do not pay unnecessary tax. In the past, people have considered this to be good sense and most people have done it. For example, if you have your savings in a building society account, you will pay tax on the interest. If you move the savings into an ISA, then you don’t pay tax on them. This is tax avoidance. Most people would think this was good money management, a sensible thing to do.

However, in the last few years we have become aware that some companies are taking this to an extreme. It is still legal but most of us feel that it is undesirable, it feels like cheating. Let’s look at a couple of examples.

The first example is fictitious. Annie decides to set up ‘Annie’s Global Coffee Empire‘. It quickly grows and is very successful, with coffee shops all over the world. There are over a thousand of Annie’s Coffee shops in the UK, they serve delicious coffee and are very popular, everyone drinks Annie’s Coffee. You might expect them to be paying lots of tax in the UK, as all businesses pay corporation tax on their profits. But they are not. When Annie set up her company, she did some cunning tax planning. She set up her head office on a remote Pacific island. An island that has 1% tax. That head office owns all the recipes for the drinks and the brand name. It charges the Annie’s Coffee shops in the UK a fortune for the use of the recipes and the brand name, such that the UK shops do not make any profit at all (but head office, paying just 1% tax makes loads!)

Now, the employees in the UK all pay tax on their earnings, the shops all pay their rates, VAT, etc. However, all the profit, which should be liable for corporation tax, is only taxed on the island because on paper the UK coffee shops earn no profit at all. The parent company makes a fortune from it’s highly priced recipes and brand name, the UK shops appear to make nothing. This is not illegal. Nothing is secret or hidden, their accounts are accurate and open. However, all of Annie’s successful coffee shops pay no corporation tax in the UK at all. This seems unfair.

Our next example is a real one. Associated British Foods own Zambia Sugar (who make Silver Spoon sugar.) They have a big sugar factory in Zambia. Outside of the big, profitable factory, is a small street market. In the market, people can have a stall and sell a few vegetables that they have grown in their gardens. The stall holders pay a few cents of tax as a government fee for having a stall. Some years, they are paying more tax than Zambia Sugar. They contribute more to Zambia’s health and education budget than the big corporation. I do not know if ABF set this up deliberately but again, this seems vastly unfair, whilst being completely legal.

So, what is the answer? These companies are not doing anything which is against the law, they are are not ‘breaking the rules’ but morally it seems wrong. Sometimes there are clever accountants setting up the tax avoidance schemes when the company is set up. Sometimes a country is too corrupt to care (so in some places you find that government officials will charge a ‘set up fee’ when a big business wants to go to the country.)

So what should we as consumers do? Should we boycott products like Silver Spoon sugar? My feeling is that that would be a mistake. Whilst they are not paying tax, Zambia Sugar are hopefully improving Zambia. They will be giving gainful paid employment to thousands of people, do we want those workers to be unemployed, impoverished?

Yet the situation clearly seems unfair. The solution would seem to be in asking for transparency. If companies had to publicly publish a complete list for every country they worked in, clearly stating how much tax they paid in each country, then they would be embarrassed into changing their tax arrangements. No large corporation likes bad publicity. Public pressure can force them to change what they are doing in a way that the law cannot.

We as consumers should be aware of which companies pay tax in the countries in which they work, and which do not. If we switch our coffee consumption from Annie’s coffee to another, tax paying, brand, then that seems right. In those developing countries which need employment, we can be campaigning for greater transparency. We can let these corporations know that what they are doing may be legal but it is not right. There is an ethical element involved and that affects us all.

I have this week seen a coffee company ‘named and shamed’ on facebook for not paying UK tax. Now, I do not know if in fact, this company does not pay UK tax, I have not yet checked. I am uneasy with how quickly we like to criticise big companies, to all band together against a common scapegoat without checking the evidence (which is how the Nazis got to be so successful.) However, even if they ARE paying tax and the facebook friends are wrong, this will still be influencing companies. They will see the mood of the public and will be checking their own stance, eager to confirm that they are a moral tax payer. We do have influence. We need to use it.

A financial article is published weekly at:
https://anneethompson.com/the-mystery-of-money/

Letters to a Sister 7

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I have just tried to book an appointment to have a Hep B vaccine ready for visiting the slums of Brazil. First of all, my surgery said they did not do this any longer, I had to go to the next town and gave me the number of the surgery. That surgery informed me that they were full, they only have one nurse, I will have to have it done privately in London.

I wont name the receptionist, but I would like to because she represents to me all the rude/bolshy/unhelpful doctor’s receptionists who I have had the misfortune to have to phone in the last twenty years. She did not apologise, she did not give a reason, she did not ask whether that was a viable alternative. There was no discussion whatsoever. She just spoke to me as though I was an annoying inconvenience who should have known better than to call and ask such a silly question.

I then phoned the vets. I needed to find out if it was safe to worm Milly and Molly while they were feeding kittens. She didn’t know (apologised) and went to find out. She came back with the information, I drove to the surgery, collected what I needed and it was not an unpleasant experience.
She did not treat me like an idiot. She explained more than I had asked so that I could make the correct decision and anything she didn’t know, she went and found out for me.

Now, both people work with the public (which can, I know, be stressful. I was a teacher remember, you often see the public at their worst then, because everyone’s been to school, so everyone knows how to best teach, right?) However, I hope I was never as rude to even the most obnoxious of parents as doctor receptionists have been to me.

It is actually dangerous. If you have been up for a couple of nights with an ill child and you know that when you phone the surgery, after being put on hold for five minutes, they will interrogate you as to whether the visit is really necessary, let you know that the doctor’s schedule is full and you really should have known last week that your child was going to be ill and made the appointment then. Well, you just cannot face it. You decide you will wait. Then when you finally do go, the doctor says you should have come earlier, the complaint is now much more serious.

How can you tell them that actually you are terrified of the Hitler on the reception desk, that last time your child was ill she actually made you cry and this time you would have missed the 8:30am appointment phoning time because after not sleeping all night again you fell asleep from 7 til 9am. Which makes the lack of appointments totally your own fault.

Even if you are not phoning with an ill child, why is it necessary for them to be rude? I had brain surgery last year, it was still not possible to see my own GP, the receptionist still treated me like I should not really be there (even with a three inch scar across a hole in my skull!)

I know that doctors are over stretched and the receptionists have to protect them. I know that some people have appointments when a trip to Boots for some throat lozenges would suffice. I know that sometimes ill people might be stressy and unreasonable when they call. But is it necessary to be rude? Really?

So what is the solution? The only difference, as far as I can see between the vet and the doctor is that I pay for the vet, I am a customer, if they are rude I will go elsewhere and take my money with me. Now, I do NOT want to see the health service privatised. I love that we can go to the doctors and not worry they might be recommending treatment in order to get the money (I lived in the US remember). I like that everyone, on any income, can go to the doctor.

However, there is no excuse for rudeness. Maybe the receptionists need to remember what their job is.

So, could we just privatise the receptionists? Could the National Health Service run as it is (maybe with a little more investment please Mr Prime Minister) but save the money in the budget that is paid to the receptionists. You could use it to pay for one extra doctor in every county (every little helps.) The receptionists would be paid by the patients.

Now personally, I favour a voluntary donation system, so they would have to be very nice or they would not get paid (like some waiters) but I can see that this might not work. So how about a small fee every time you visit the surgery? Maybe £2 a visit?

I am not poor now but I grew up poor (very very poor) and I still work with kids from an estate where many are on benefits. All of them can afford the occasional costa coffee, they use the bus instead of walking, they buy sweets (none of which I could have afforded as a teenager.) I think that £2 a visit is not too much for anyone to pay. It would also make some of the ‘time wasters’ think twice, to perhaps pop to Boots or wait a few days to see if the sore throat cleared up on its own, which it often does.

Most importantly, perhaps it would make those receptionists be nicer. It is possible. I had a very nice one once. When I phoned for an appointment, there were none available but she was polite and kind. She sympathised, asked if I was feeling very poorly, said she was sorry but all the appointments had gone. Then she asked if I thought I should definitely see someone that day, in which case she would fit me in as an emergency with another doctor, or could I manage to wait until tomorrow? Mostly she was just kind. If I knew her name I would include it. It is possible to do a difficult job well. Maybe they just need a little motivation. Maybe the surgery needs to fire the bad ones……

Take care,
Anne xx

PS. As promised, more kitten pictures. They are growing so fast!

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Letters to a sister are posted every Monday.

Why Do Supermarkets Price Match? (Game Theory)

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Why do Supermarkets Price Match?

      Do you have a price match card at your supermarket? Have you heard them offer to refund your money if you can buy it cheaper elsewhere? Why do they do it – are they being nice to their loyal customers? Actually, no. Actually, the price match promise is not even aimed at their customers, it is sending a message to their competitors. To understand why, we need to look at something that economists call ‘Game Theory’ (don’t get excited, Pictionary and Cluedo do not feature.)

     Game Theory is something that John Nash made a big contribution to (you may have heard of him – he was the person who inspired the film A Beautiful Mind. ) He showed that when individuals (you and me) or companies (Sainsbury’s) make a decision, we do not just take into account the things that will benefit us, the things that we want. We also take into account other people and competitors. Companies, when making a decision, guess what other ‘players’ in the ‘game’ might do. Supermarkets know that if they reduce their prices, the supermarket up the road will also reduce theirs. So they will both lose money. They do not want this to happen, so they make their ‘price match’ to their customers. This is sending a clear message to the other supermarkets. It says,

“If you lower your prices, we will lower ours too, so both of us will make less profit and neither will get more customers. So don’t do it.”

     Economists call this making a ‘strategic commitment’. (Economists like to make up fancy terms, it makes them feel important.) It means the shop has made itself inflexible, it has limited its own options (because when the customer tells them that baked beans cost less in Asda, they have to match that price, they can’t just say “Oh, we were only joking, sorry, you still have to pay the original price.”) They do this so their competitors will know they are serious. They are making a tough commitment (because they believe it will influence how the other shops behave and everyone will be better off. Except for the customers maybe.)

    Supermarkets have been having price wars for years. All of their actions have to be visible (no point in matching prices if your competitor doesn’t know about it) credible (their competitor has to believe that they actually will do it. If Morrisons promise a free BMW with all their loaves of bread, no one will believe that they will actually do that. Well, some people might, but not the sort of people who will be reading this) and understandable.

     But why bother with the price match thing at all? Why not just tell the other supermarkets that you will lower your price if they lower theirs, so don’t do it? Well, they are not allowed to. That would be called collusion, which is illegal. We will come to that in a little while.

     Firstly, let’s look at another company that has made a tough commitment. I like Kelloggs cornflakes, no other cornflakes are quite the same in my opinion. They are known in the cereal making world as being price leaders. They have always aggressively matched any price of any comparative cereal (not that any other cornflakes really do compare with Kelloggs.) Now, they are not allowed to tell their competitors that they will do this (it would be collusion – illegal remember.) Plus their competitors would probably just laugh and not believe them. However, they have behaved like this for about 200 years (I am guessing the time) and so all cereal manufacturers know what to expect and they behave accordingly. No one tries to out price Kelloggs, it just is not worth it, everyone loses (apart from the customers. Again.) Economists (the people who like using fancy phrases) would say the cereal companies are in ‘Nash Equilibrium’. They cannot individually change and still succeed because their competitors will step in and lower their prices too until eventually they go bust.

     There is another kind of commitment that companies make. This is called a ‘soft commitment’ and it is less aggressive, it more involves sharing the market place. So, Dominoes and Pizza Hut do not open shops in the same town. They have not agreed to do this (that would be collusion) they simply do not do it. They share the customer base rather than trying to force the other company to lower their prices.

     Another ‘soft commitment’ can be seen with Sony and Phillips. When CDs first came out in 1982, Sony produced them but Phillips (the main competitor) did not. It let Sony go first, spend lots of money on researching the new technology and then Sony flooded the market with them. It worked to both company’s advantage. Phillips had no risk, it did not invest in a new technology which might never take off, might just be a waste of money. Sony had the advantage of knowing that if it invested in new technology, it would then have an empty market place and could sell lots to recoup it’s expenditure. It suited both companies.

     Another way that companies share the market place is by aiming their products at different people. So, Illy makes expensive but delicious coffee, Nescafe makes cheaper but still drinkable coffee, Asda own brand is pretty yukky but very cheap. It is almost a class system for coffee! This is called a ‘fragmented market’. Again, the coffee producers could not agree to do this (collusion) nor was it historical (like with kelloggs) but they could see which areas their competitors were investing in (like growing only highly refined coffee beans or investing in cheap transportation in Brazil) so they could predict what everyone was doing and make their own decisions accordingly. (This got a bit messed up when the US coffee people entered the scene, but it still makes for a good example and I rather like thinking that I prefer ‘upper class coffee’!)

     Now, we have kept mentioning ‘collusion’. What is that about? Capitalism works with the belief that the market place works best if there is free competition, if everyone is trying to win the game. People believe this so strongly that they have created organisations to police this. In the UK we have the CMA (Competition Market Authority.) Other countries have different bodies, all trying to ensure a fair market place. Competition keeps the prices down and everything working efficiently.

     The exception to this, is oil. The countries that produce oil (note, countries, not companies) do collude. Which is why oil is so expensive. The actual companies don’t talk – BP cannot have a price chat (over a cup of illy coffee) with DNO – but the UK can talk to Norway. They set the price of oil (by adding tax) where they want it. They try to limit how much oil people will use.

     If we return to supermarkets, we can now see that their price match promise does not actually help us the customers very much. However, they are still trying to entice us into their shop. So, while they may not ever give away a BMW with a loaf of bread (sorry mother) they will offer us other things. We can still enjoy our free coffee and newspaper or our loyalty card or our free knife set. It all makes shopping a little less boring.

Financial articles are posted on Saturdays.

Letters to a Sister 6

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It was my turn to cook at Lunch Club. This is a major operation, beginning with a trip to supermarket at 8:30 the morning before. I then spent all day cooking beef casseroles and lemon crunch pies, which spend the night in my fridge and then get transported to church and reheated for the lunch. This week we had forty-two people. Lots of food.

It started fairly badly when I tried to open the condensed milk ready for the lemon crunch pies. We have a Jamie Oliver tin opener, which I am quite fond of as it is not immediately obvious how it works and leaves people looking confused and I can then show them and feel clever. In the past, it has always worked brilliantly. Anyway, my guess is that Jamie Oliver does not use much condensed milk in his recipes (do you still use his recipes? I am more of a Nigella cook -unfortunately am getting the waistline to match!)

This stupid opener would not open the tin, whichever way I held it. All it did was remove a hair sized slither of metal, which then splintered off into my hand. Hurt. And bled. Not a good start.

Now, I have done my hygiene safety course (what a thrilling morning that was) so I knew that blood and catering is a bad combination. I should immediately cover the cut with a blue plaster (blue so that if it falls into the food – gross thought – it is easily spotted.) However, we do not have blue plasters in my house. We only have Postman Pat ones which I buy because I like to hear ‘important-city-worker’ and ‘international – businessman’ both muttering when they cut themselves (I clearly don’t get out enough.)

I therefore decide that I will opt for hygiene rule two and wear plastic gloves. Unfortunately, the only plastic gloves which are unopened (and therefore safe to use with food preparation) are extra large black marigolds, bought to use in the garden. So, there I am, wearing my outsized black gloves, looking at unopened condensed milk cans and thinking bad thoughts about Jamie Oliver.

What do you do when your tin opener does not open tins? I can assure you that a cork screw is both dangerous and does not work. Nor does bashing it very hard with sons penknife. Taking it in garden, wedging it between logs and hitting it with an axe does work, however leaves milk too dirty to use. The only option, as far as I know, is to drive very fast back to supermarket and buy a cheap but effective tin opener. One that actually opens tins. I will suggest to Jamie that really this should be the defining point for any implement he sells under the name ‘tin opener’. Radical thought.

The rest of my preparation went well, though I was completely worn out afterwards. Luckily, both David and Mimi were at work functions in the evening, so Mum had agreed to cook me dinner. I shoved the food in the fridge, fed the animals and drove to Mum’s. As I stood on her doorstep I had a horrible feeling that she might be going to serve me beef casserole/stew (you will understand.) But no, it was very nice scollaped potatoes with sausages and cheesecake for pudding. No tin openers necessary.

The actual Lunch Club was fine. The oldies all ate their beef casserole and vegetables and absolutely huge pieces of lemon crunch pie. All very tasty and hygienic. Some of them bring in plastic containers and take home the leftovers to eat in the week. It’s a nice feeling to cook for them. They have jugs of water on the table and a few of them have started to bring in fruit juice to add to it so it has a flavour. This week one table had a bottle of alcoholic fruit juice. The leader asked if they realised it was alcoholic and they just winked at her! That’s so how I want to be when I’m ninety-five!

Actually, we recently renamed the group. It’s now called Lunch Club (imaginative huh?) We did consider a few possibilities. My personal favourite was Fifty Shades of Grey (this was deemed to be misleading – they might arrive with the wrong expectations!)

 

We went to visit Noreen in hospital. She has just decided not to continue with chemo, so probably wont live much longer. I was really nervous about going. She’s a friend, so I really felt that we should go but I was worried about getting all emotional, which would be awful for her and upsetting for me. Prayed hard. Arrived at hospital – why are they so beige? Found her ward, which bizarrely is the maternity ward. Apparently ‘womens bits’ are all categorised the same, whether it’s the beginning or end of a life. Actually, maybe that’s better, maybe being on a ‘cancer ward’ would be rather depressing. Anyway, Noreen was still Noreen. She is clearly unwell, but still bright and sparky and fun to talk to. I didn’t get emotional at all. Find that happens a lot when I pray – makes me wonder why I don’t spend more time doing it.

Take care,
Anne xx

The next ‘Letters to a Sister’ will be posted next Monday.