Entries from January 2008 ↓

Thank you for visiting! If you're new here, you may want to subscribe to this Blog's RSS feed or join the Forum for exclusive articles, updates, stories, news, tips, and useful information for ameteur and professional writers alike.

British Gas is putting prices up by 15% or £85 for gas and 15% or £54 for electricity. The price hike comes into effect immediately and will hit standard tariffs, potentially affecting over half its 16 million customer accounts and adding an extra £139 on to the average dual fuel customer’s household energy bill. Bills are now set to rise from £912 to £1,051.

The move comes despite British Gas reporting record half year profits of £533 million - almost £3 million a day and up by £676 million year-on-year – off the back of lower wholesale prices. According to Citigroup, British Gas’ projected 2007 year end profits are set to hit almost £639 million – more than six times the £95 million British Gas made in 2006. The projections suggest that, for residential supply alone, the giant will see its profit per customer increase fivefold from £5.93 to £39.92.

For British Gas customers it means further pricing misery after enduring a three year run of price increases when dual fuel bills rocketed by 85% or £513 (2004 – 2006). This came to an end last year when British Gas dropped prices by 19% or £208. Today’s move shifts British Gas back into its old position as Britain’s most expensive gas supplier.

British Gas prices going up by 15% or £85 for gas and 15% or £54 for electricity

Average household bill for a dual fuel British Gas customer will go up from £912 to £1,051 – only £64 cheaper than when prices were at an all time high

Gas customers will suffer most, as British Gas will now be the most expensive supplier for gas – gas bills will go up from £568 to £653 a year

Increases are on standard tariffs – over half its 16 million customer accounts will be affected

British Gas reported record half year profits of £533 million, but Citigroup predicts that year end profits will hit almost £639 million – more than six times the £95 million it made in 2006

Average British Gas dual fuel bill rocketed by 85% or £513 (2004 – 2006) but only fell by 19% or £208 last year

However, customers are being warned to expect further price blows as British Gas recently indicated that it is considering regional pricing for gas – a ‘postcode lottery’ policy which will see consumers paying different prices for gas based on where they live in the UK.

If British Gas does introduce regional pricing for gas, other suppliers are likely to follow suit - some consumers can expect to pay close to £100 more for their energy compared with others living elsewhere in the country.

Ann Robinson, Director of Consumer Policy at uSwitch.com, comments: “Today’s increase is the thin end of a wedge – British Gas has left the door open for a change in pricing policy that will see consumers paying different prices for gas based on where they live in the UK. If this ‘postcode lottery’ policy is adopted across the board by all suppliers then previous estimates that price rises would add an extra 15% or £150 onto household bills in 2008 could fall short.”

Popularity: 8% [?]

Fancy a four day ride for eight hours a day?

Dust off your bicycle, slip on the lycra and join us for the fantastic 4 day London to Paris bike ride. You’ll be taken on a journey of 300 miles and you’ll be in the saddle for around six to eight hours a day.

Whether you want to lose weight, keep fit, or you’re mad about cycling, this event is for you! Continue reading →

Popularity: 10% [?]

We take the old roads from Kingston to Old Harbour, avoiding the new Super Highway, a journey of about ninety minutes by car.The Old Harbour Fish Market is now a shadow of its former self as is the disused railway station. The spot where the church stood that my aunt Annie and I walked the three miles to every Sunday morning is now a fast food joint while the church itself has moved to a more prestigious location, I’m told, with religion still big business on this tiny Caribbean island.

Cars can no longer turn down the Old Bodles Road that was the direct route to and from our house. Rain has apparently washed away the bridge and the road is now permanently closed. We must drive a further mile down the highway and enter onto the property at Bottom Bodles, then circle around to the main entrance from the opposite direction – a far too long a journey that I would never have undertaken as a child. For even along these dirt back roads the familiar whiff of fresh cow dung had brought on an instant sense of dread that started in the pit of my scrotum and gripped my bladder making me gasp for breath. All I could say to give our driver the cue to pull over was “I think I’m gonna have to pee you guys.”

Fear has always had a tendency to make me want to wet my pants, and as the piss hit the dry dirt road and bubbled up, the sweet sickly pungent smell of cow dung was everywhere. As I button up quickly and the car drives on, the sight of cows returning for their twice daily milking greets our journey just as they did when I was boy. I was always petrified of cows. As I made my way to school each morning, I would desperately try to avoid them by walking the three miles before or after I knew that they had made their familiar journey to the Dairy. Of course this meant that I was often late for assembly because if I was ever met by cows on the way, I would stand deadly still, clutching my satchel for comfort until they had passed at a safe distance.

Now and then, one particularly feisty cow would dare to charge towards me and I would run for my life, screaming at the top of my lungs, and scaring the young calves that darted off in all direction. It didn’t matter that they were small and probably just as scared as I was; the young ones frightened me too. So my days invariably began with negotiations about how best to get to school without meeting any cows along the way. Not easy when you live surrounded by several hundred acres of dairy farm, the existence of which represented the first examples of genetically bred cattle anywhere in the world.

The Jamaican Hope was bred specifically to adapt to the Caribbean by combining the British Jersey cow with the Holstein and the Indian Sahiwal breed. This new Hope produced three times more milk than any other cattle on the island, and so they were constantly marching towards the Dairy and across my path. Today, however, I am in the safety of a car and cows can’t bother me now. Riding across this rough terrain with my camera at hand, I’m surprised at just how photogenic cows can be. Were they always hornless all those years ago when I was walking to Old Harbour Primary in panic?

We reach a guarded gate and a handsome man with flawless black skin steps out of a hut and in front of the car to enquiry about our business here.

“We’re heading up to the house,” says David our driver, stating the obvious without giving any reason.

“Who?” replies the Guard.

“Gonsalves,” says my cousin Aubrey from his open window in the back seat of our car.

“Oh, Mr Gonsalves, sir - go on up.”

We smile then; things are as they should be, and David drives on.

“It’s good to see the name still counts for something round here,” Aubrey and I both chime.

A short drive further and we arrive at the once pristine electronic white gates that open onto a long driveway leading to the main house and research centre. The gates are rusty now, wide open too and possibly broken, but still they represent my first real point of recognition. My heart begins to race. I’m ready to step from the moving vehicle when David announces that we are about to drive through the gates and park up ahead on the overgrown lawn. This we do and I sprint from the car back towards what was once the grand entrance to an enchanting playground, The Banana Breeding Station Bodles, where I once lived.

Revisiting the scene of a distant memory can be a tricky business, they say. One is never quite sure, if the ghost is you, or if the place is ghostly. The net effect of this is like wandering through a dream wide awake, very eerie.

Three young Sparrow Hawks eye us from the scorching midday sky above. “Killy-killy-killy, yip-yip,” they cry in their rapid, high-pitched tone. They were lining up to pick at the bones of Bodles, and so was I. Continue reading →

Popularity: 36% [?]