• All talk is of a hefty rate cut this week – a half point at least, and possibly even a full one per cent.

But thus far lenders have been reluctant to pass on the cuts to consumers. So our question for today is:

 Loading ...

Use the comment box below to explain your answer.

With Halloween on the way, and inspired by Joss’s punning chocolate post, here’s my spooky tale based on streets and placenames around the UK. (Apologies in advance. I got carried away. I’m sorry. So very, very sorry.)

(original lightning pic: istock:nature_247)

Are you sitting comfortably? Then I’ll begin…

‘Twas the night of AllHallows.

Rain(ham) was lashing down and the Thunder(sley) rolled as I walked towards home.

Suddenly lightning flashed, and I spied a Black Dog. It let out a bloodcurdling Howl(ey) and turned towards me, eyes flashing Red(hill) and jaws slavering as if it had Rabies (Heath Road).

Unwilling to be a Lamb(eth) to the (Lower) Slaughter I turned tail and ran back along Gibbet Street.

Panting for breath I leaned against a wooden post which creaked ominously. Looking up, I screamed.

For I had unwittingly run onto Gallows Green, and the corpse of the notorious highwayman ‘Black Bourton‘ was swinging towards me on the Gibbet (Lane), his fleshless Skull (House Lane) grinning.

In blind panic I fled along the Hangman Path and into the Woodlands, wherein lurks the Goole. Legend tells of how it lures unwary travellers into its Crypt (Estate) and feasts on their Brains (Green).

Fortunately, I escaped unscathed but then, stumbling into the graveyard, I fell headlong into an open Grave(send), and landed on top of a Coffin(swell).

Laying there, winded, my blood froze as the coffin creaked open and a pale Hand(cross) groped towards me. The Dead (Lane) were rising!

Scrambling out of the Grave(ny), I ran towards a nearby cottage, and witless with terror hammered at the door.

It finally creaked open and, to my Horra(bridge), I was face to face with the Witch(am)!

My overwhelmed senses finally gave in and, as I slipped into a dead faint, the last thing I heard was the Witch (Close), as she cackled…

“Happy Halloween!!”

I blogged enthusiastically a while ago about Barratt Homes dishing out free beer at viewings.

Let me now take the opportunity to raise a glass (or three) to Ludlow Thompson for their splendid Good Pubs Rental List – in ma hones opinun (hic) … iz a brillen idea.

It’s not, let me hasten to add, that they’re trying to encourage us to knock back 15 pints after work – as we all well know, this is not how we do things here in Blighty.

No, no, no: we drink like this:

“If a stop at your local pub for a pint or a Pinot Grigio on the way home is part of your daily routine, check out our List of Rentals with nearby ‘locals’.”

Ah yes, many’s the time I’ve stopped by on the way home for just the one …

Still, hats off (if you can still find your head) to LT for acknowledging the incalculable (and try saying that after a few) value of a good local boozer.

My own local is a place called the Cleveland in Preston Park, Brighton; a fine hostelry that also serves bloody good grub. If you’re ever in the neighbourhood … mine’s a pint of the black stuff.

Does the local matter? Tell us about the boozer that makes your neighbourhood more … neighbourly …

Cadbury’s recently bucked the trend of most other businesses when they announced their profits were up by 11 per cent over the last quarter.

There’s got to be a connection between that and the general gloom that’s going around, surely?

We might not be able to heat our homes anymore but goddammit, we can still afford the odd Dairy Milk to cheer ourselves up.

So in honour of Cadbury’s range of feel-good products, I’ve written a few chocolate-coated words on the housing market.  My apologies in advance…

This past year has been no Picnic or bed of Roses for anyone affected by the credit Crunch(ie).

But will the recent government cash Boost lead to Gordon Brown & Co. being hailed as the Heroes who saved us from an economic Melt(s) down?

Is there a Wispa of optimism in the air, or will Gordon be accused of Fudge-ing the financial truth, and end up with (Creme) Egg on his face?

Thinking about it too much is sending me into a mental Twirl; I need some Time Out before I turn into a total Flake…

The brilliant Bird & Fortune explain the credit crunch…

Bird: … all the milk is standing around and gets rancid and hardens, and then when you get hard milk what do you get?

Fortune: Cheese.

Bird: No, no, no, no, no. It’s more like a jelly. It wobbles, you see.

And at this point the man in the street turns to his wife and says, “Irene,” or whatever her name happens to be, “em, we can’t have that new house you wanted because all the milk has turned to jelly.”

I hope that’s clear…

Mervyn King, top banana at the Bank of England, hit the headlines today because he dared to utter the ‘R’ word - recession.

I like Merv. His press appearances at the Bank of England’s Quarterly Cure For Insomnia have always been enlivened by his intellectual sophistication and sly sense of humour.

He seems like a really good bloke, King, which is why I’m almost reluctant to point out that as I was reading the news reports today I couldn’t help feeling he reminded me of someone.

But who? Later in the day a light bulb flashed in my noggin: Penfold! You know … from Dangermouse.

Ok, I’ll grant you: the resemblance is not as uncanny as Steve Martin and Alistair Darling … but still, it’s pretty darn* close…

Question is: who would be Dangermouse to Merv’s Penfold? Suggestions please…

*Howdedoodee Palin fans, apologies Obama supporters …

My new favourite designers are the Play Coalition, who first came to my attention with their selfless light fitting, The Martyr; a neat little visual pun on the idea of energy-saving.

They’ve now come up with a crazy, Tim Burton-esque solution to light-starved houseplants, The Plantbot.

Slap in your favourite fern, yucca, whatever and say goodbye to wilted foliage as the Plantbot doggedly follows sunlight around your room.

Warning: if the Day Of The Triffids gave you nightmares when you were a kid, it’s probably not for you.

But if the idea of a perambulating plantpot shakes your branches, you can see more pics at the Play Coalition website.

If nothing else it’ll freak the hell out of the cat. No more peeing in the plantpot for you Mr Moggy!

(All pics: The Play Coalition)

I’ve been looking at pictures of the Kingsway Exchange bunker complex … which has just come on the market … and I can’t shake off an overwhelming sense of dread and panic.

Maybe it’s because to my eyes those long yawning corridors look like something from the spaceship in Alien.

You just know that if you ever have to take refuge here you’re going to end up in a lung-bursting sprint down these corridors with lights flickering, klaxons blaring, pipes bursting and something big slithery and … Oh j j jesus… What’s that overhe… aggghhhhh!!!

That’s bad enough.

But then I looked at the living quarters and I started to pray that if ever there’s a nuclear strike on London I’ll be close to the bomb blast because I’m not sure I could endure the awful tedium of brown carpet tiles creeping up the cafeteria walls and … year after year of … snooker.

The complex was initially constructed as a communications and intelligence hub if the Germans invaded … and later it contained a ‘hot line’ connecting the White House directly to the Kremlin during the Cold War.

(It’s 1974. A red phone echoes shrilly down the corridors. A hand adorned with a sovereign picks it up: “Nikolai, mate, look, let’s knock this arms race on the ‘ed and settle this like men … best of 17 frames?)

No wonder Churchill was keen to fight ‘em on the beaches instead …

If you like this kind if thing, you’ll love Subterranea Britannica Ltd.

Full details of The Kingsway Exchange.

It’s official: Glasgow is great. The Dear Green Place has only gone and made it into the Lonely Planet’s Top Ten list of best cities for visitors.

Not only that but it was the sole UK city to be included. Even better, it beat Edinburgh! Bring it on.

Of course, this news comes as no surprise to me – being a local lassie, I know how fantastic Glasgow is.

The city is blessed with stunning architecture, a surprising amount of greenery, first-class theatres, galleries and museums, an easy-peasy subway system, and absolutely fabulous shops, sweetie.

Kelvingrove Art Gallery & Museum

And, contrary to popular belief, the West Coast of Scotland diet doesn’t consist purely of deep-fried Mars bars.

Nope. You can actually have whichever type of chocolate you want fried in batter - although your more discerning diners will find plenty to scintillate their delicate taste buds, too.

The other wide-held notion of Scots enjoying a tipple or twenty is, however, almost universally true – my own favourite spot for this is the West End’s Ashton Lane, a wee piece of drinking and dining heaven that makes my heart sing…even when I’m sober.

Ashton Lane

But – and I reckon this is where Glasgow’s greatness really lies – local people  have such a deep-rooted sense of pride in their city that they’ll go out of their way to make sure visitors receive a warm welcome.

Glasgow: it’s pure dead brilliant, by the way.

Suggestions please on which cities you’d include in your Top Ten list for visitors…

Not that I want to blow our own trumpet (toot-toot!) but it seems the good people (person?) over at the Property Owl Blog have some kind words to say about how engaging our humble blog is:

“Findaproperty.com rightly identified this area recently and now produce a good and interesting blog, which is aimed more at the punter.”

Good, interesting and punter-friendly, that describes us very well. (We’ll let you off the fact that you forgot ‘devastatingly witty, supremely sexy, godlike genii’.)

Thank you Property Owl, you’re our new best friend.