Day: March 11, 2018

Nearly half of Scottish firms are struggling to hire skilled staff

  • Two in five local employers are struggling to recruit skilled staff and 41% have seen increased staff turnover since the EU Referendum
  • Businesses report this is impacting their growth and expansion efforts
  • To solve the crisis more than half are planning on recruiting more apprentices and many are engaging with education providers

More than a two fifths (44%) of Scottish firms are reporting difficulty recruiting skilled staff, and 41% have seen increased staff turnover since June 2016, according to a new employment and skills study from Lloyds Banking Group and London business membership organisation, London First. The study sought to analyse the impact of Brexit on business recruitment and access to skills across the UK. Continue reading Nearly half of Scottish firms are struggling to hire skilled staff

Edinburgh Climate Festival next Saturday

After two successful events, the third Edinburgh Climate Festival aims to be even bigger and better. Community-led organisations from across Edinburgh and surrounding areas invite the public to join them on Saturday 17th March (11am – 4pm) in Out of the Blue for the Climate Festival as part of Zero Waste Scotland’s #PassItOnWeek. Continue reading Edinburgh Climate Festival next Saturday

A poem for Mother’s Day

LUCOZADE

My mum is on a high bed next to sad chrysanthemums.
‘Don’t bring flowers, they only wilt and die.’
I am scared my mum is going to die
on the bed next to the sad chrysanthemums.

She nods off and her eyes go back in her head.
Next to her bed is a bottle of Lucozade.
‘Orange nostalgia, that’s what that is,’ she says.
‘Don’t bring Lucozade either,’ then fades.

‘The whole day was a blur, a swarm of eyes.
Those doctors with their white lies.
Did you think you could cheer me up with a Woman’s Own?
Don’t bring magazines, too much about size.’

My mum wakes up, groggy and low.
‘What I want to know,’ she says,’ is this:
where’s the big brandy, the generous gin, the Bloody Mary,
the biscuit tin, the chocolate gingers, the dirty big meringue?’

I am sixteen; I’ve never tasted a Bloody Mary.
‘Tell your father to bring a luxury,’ says she.
‘Grapes have no imagination, they’re just green.
Tell him: stop the neighbours coming.’

I clear her cupboard in Ward 10B, Stobhill Hospital.
I leave, bags full, Lucozade, grapes, oranges,
sad chrysanthemums under my arms,
weighted down. I turn round, wave with her flowers.

My mother, on her high hospital bed, waves back.
Her face is light and radiant, dandelion hours.
Her sheets billow and whirl. She is beautiful. 
Next to her the empty table is divine.

I carry the orange nostalgia home singing an old song.

Jackie Kay