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The piece analyzes the ripple effects of the US‑Israel war on Iran's economy, noting that heightened geopolitical tensions have led to increased sanctions and disrupted traditional trade routes. Analysts point to a growing strain on Iran's financial sector as regional instability hampers investment and complicates access to international markets. While specific figures are not disclosed, the article underscores that the economic fallout extends beyond immediate conflict zones, affecting broader Middle‑East fiscal stability.

The strategic Strait of Hormuz, linking the Persian Gulf to the Gulf of Oman, has become the focal point of the Israel‑U.S. war on Iran that began in February. In peacetime the narrow waterway handled about 20% of global oil and liquefied natural gas shipments without any tolls, but the conflict has turned it into a contested zone. After a series of Israeli and U.S. strikes, Iran retaliated by targeting merchant vessels it deemed hostile, effectively shutting the passage and triggering one of the most severe energy‑distribution crises in recent memory. While a two‑week ceasefire, brokered by Pakistan, was declared on Tuesday, Tehran has issued a set of official terms that would govern the strait moving forward. According to Iran’s foreign minister Abbas Araghi, safe passage will be allowed in coordination with the Iranian armed forces and subject to technical limitations. The Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) has even published a new navigation map that pushes traffic farther north, away from the traditional route near Oman’s coast, citing the risk of anti‑ship mines. Central to Tehran’s 10‑point peace proposal is the idea of charging fees for strait usage. Iranian media report that the plan could levy up to $2 million per vessel—a sum to be shared with Oman—or a charge of $1 per barrel of oil shipped. The revenue would allegedly fund reconstruction of military and civilian infrastructure damaged by the U.S.–Israeli campaign. Oman has publicly rejected any toll scheme, with Transport Minister Said Al‑Maawali reminding that the country has already signed all relevant international maritime transport agreements that prohibit such fees. International law adds another layer of complexity. The United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS) prohibits levying charges for mere passage through international straits, allowing fees only for services like navigation assistance or port use. Neither the United States nor Iran have ratified UNCLOS, but the principle remains a benchmark for maritime norms. Analysts suggest a possible workaround: charging for de‑mining and safety services rather than for passage itself, which could be permissible under existing legal frameworks. The proposal has sparked diplomatic pushback. At the United Nations Security Council, Bahrain led a resolution urging coordinated reopening of the strait, backed by Qatar, the UAE, Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, and Jordan. The resolution passed with 11 of 15 votes, but was vetoed by Russia and China, who argued it unfairly targeted Iran and ignored the initial strikes. Beyond the region, the United States is unlikely to accept indefinite tolls. Former President Donald Trump, who announced the ceasefire, warned that U.S. forces would remain in the area and threatened to resume attacks if negotiations faltered. American troops are reportedly “hanging around” to assist with traffic buildup, though the extent of their operational control remains unclear. Maritime analyst C. Uday Bhaskar notes that only three to five ships have traversed the strait since the ceasefire began, underscoring the lingering uncertainty for global shippers. He adds that ship owners facing multi‑million‑dollar losses each day may ultimately acquiesce to Iran’s terms, at least temporarily. Should Iran implement a toll regime, the immediate impact would fall on Gulf oil‑producing nations, but the ripple effects could destabilize global energy markets, already strained by supply shocks. Major powers such as the United Kingdom have been coordinating with a coalition of 40 countries to explore alternative mechanisms for reopening the waterway without conceding to tolls. In sum, Iran’s proposed protocol for the Strait of Hormuz introduces a contentious new variable into an already volatile geopolitical landscape, pitting national security interests against established maritime law and the broader stability of world energy supplies.

In the Dutch town of Veldhoven, social‑housing operator Woonstichting ’thuis has installed the first of its “rain fences” – garden fences that double as rain‑water storage units.Homeowners Theo and Willy Bolder report that the fence’s linked plastic blocks can retain up to 2,160 litres of water, lowering the load on municipal drains during intense rainstorms and supplying the garden when summer droughts hit."The rain is getting heavier and heavier nowadays, and if you have a cloudburst the drainage isn’t good and it comes up through the toilet," Willy explained, highlighting the growing problem of surface runoff in a country where average temperatures have risen by 1 °C since 2000 and cities are about 5 °C warmer than surrounding rural areas (KNMI data).Recent climate events underscore the urgency: the 2021 Limburg floods saw more than 15 cm of rain fall in 48 hours, causing the River Geul to burst its banks, while the historic 1953 North Sea flood claimed at least 1,800 lives and spurred the iconic Delta Works.Deputy mayor Rik Thijs of nearby Eindhoven stresses that traditional sewage capacity cannot keep pace with these extremes. "We need to capture as much as possible on the surface," he said, pointing to complementary measures such as resurfacing the old Gender river, creating wadi pools, and installing green roofs.The rain‑fence concept was developed by Harry den Hartigh of SunnyRain Solutions, whose personal connection to the 1953 disaster in Zeeland inspired a design that merges functionality with aesthetics: a fence that stores water while enhancing the garden’s look.Academic Jannes Willems, an urban‑planning professor at the University of Amsterdam, notes that simple, scalable solutions like rain‑water harvesting can offset the Netherlands’ “water‑shortage” concerns during hot summers, especially as the national water system was originally built to discharge water as quickly as possible.For property managers, the benefits extend beyond environmental stewardship. Matthijs Hulsbosch, sustainability manager at Woonstichting ’thuis, says the fences help protect the complex’s 11,000 homes from water‑related damage, potentially saving significant repair costs and reducing tenant inconvenience.Neighbourhood manager David Hearn adds that the pilot also improves community relations, turning a simple fence into a shared asset that residents are eager to adopt.

Gentleman's Relish, a traditional British condiment, has been discontinued by its manufacturer, AB World Foods. However, Simpson's restaurant in London and Fortnum & Mason have stepped in to keep the spread alive. Jeremy King, who reopened Simpson's in the Strand last month, has instructed his chef to create a version of Gentleman's Relish almost identical to the original.The relish, made from anchovy fillets, rusk, butter, and a secret selection of herbs and spices, was created by John Osborn in 1828. It was a favourite condiment of James Bond writer Ian Fleming and has been named as one of the 10 foods that Nigella Lawson cannot live without. Simpson's serves the relish on toast for £6.50, while Fortnum & Mason offers it in a Tiffany blue pot for £14.95.King's version of the relish is based on a classic Victorian recipe for patum peperium, which he prefers to the mass-produced version. While he would like to sell it as a takeaway product, health and safety regulations prevent this. Nigella Lawson has expressed her love for the relish, saying it's a savoury version of cinnamon toast and just as comforting.

Lidl announced a major expansion in the United Kingdom, pledging to open 50 new stores over the next twelve months. The rollout is part of a broader strategy to become the country’s fifth‑largest supermarket, challenging Morrisons for that slot. In a unique move, the German‑owned retailer is also constructing its first pub in east Belfast. Local licensing rules require supermarkets to acquire a licence surrendered by an existing premises, and Lidl failed the standard off‑licence test but succeeded for a pub after two nearby bars closed. The venue, set to seat about 60 patrons, will open this summer and will feature a curated selection of Lidl‑branded beers, wines, spirits and other drinks, with a focus on supporting local suppliers. Lidl GB, which already operates more than 1,000 stores across Britain, said it will invest **over £600 million** in the UK expansion. The capital injection is expected to generate **almost 2,000 jobs** as the company enlarges its warehouse and logistics network to service the new outlets. Among the first locations slated for summer openings are Abbots Langley (near Watford), Warrington in Cheshire, and Thornbury in Gloucestershire. The company reported 50 store openings planned for the coming year, up from 40 in the previous twelve‑month period, and expects **no closures** during this time. Market data shows Lidl now matches Morrisons with an **8.3% share** of the UK grocery market, achieving the fastest growth among physical grocers. In the three months to 22 March, Lidl’s sales rose **9.6%**, outpacing Morrisons’ modest **2.3%** increase, which lagged behind inflation. Over the year to February 2025, Lidl’s UK sales climbed **8.3% to £11.7 billion**, while profits more than doubled to **£156.8 million** and employee numbers rose to **11,422**. Chief Executive Ryan McDonnell emphasized the broader impact, stating, “Our expansion translates directly into high‑quality jobs and gives British suppliers the certainty they need to invest in the future.” The move has also drawn praise from Kate Dearden, the minister for employment rights and consumer protection, who highlighted the importance of such investment for community standards and fair wages. While Lidl and rival Aldi have surged ahead by offering low‑price alternatives amid a cost‑of‑living crunch, traditional giants Tesco and Sainsbury’s are responding with enhanced loyalty programmes and price‑competitive ranges to retain market share.

The author's four-decade groundhopping odyssey culminated on a dreary afternoon in December, watching his team lose 3-0 in a modern stadium. This journey, which began in 1982, has seen significant changes in football culture.Traditionally, fans displayed their allegiance by flying scarf outside their homes. Now, this practice has given way to executive car stickers and personalized number plates, reflecting a shift in how fans express their support.Visiting stadiums near town centers has become a rare treat, offering a sense of place and community. However, many pubs near grounds have closed, and clubs now encourage fans to buy beer inside the stadium, altering the pre-match experience.The introduction of safe standing and big flags has enhanced the fan experience. Yet, the author notes that clubs often require prior permission for large flags, suggesting a desire to control these displays of support.The commercialization of football is evident in sponsorship deals and advertising hoardings. The author humorously speculates about obscure sponsors, such as 'Betterwave' and 'D Catchesides Roofing.'Despite changes, some constants remain. The seasonal transition from autumn to winter, marked by a sense of accomplishment after a match day, endures. The author's reflections offer a nostalgic and insightful look at the evolution of football culture.

The romantic comedy 'You, Me & Tuscany' offers a wholesome and harmless meet-cute that will appeal to fans of the genre. The film stars Halle Bailey as Anna, a young woman navigating life after her mother's death, and Regé-Jean Page as Matteo, a charming Italian man who sweeps her off her feet.The movie's plot is full of familiar romantic comedy tropes, from the fake engagement to the picturesque Italian setting. However, the film's charm lies in its strong performances from the cast, particularly Bailey and Page. The chemistry between the leads is undeniable, and their romance is sweet and engaging.Despite its charm, the film has received criticism for its lack of originality and predictable plot twists. Some critics have argued that the movie relies too heavily on overused romantic comedy clichés, which detracts from its overall impact.The film's success is significant for the romantic comedy genre, as it marks a shift towards more diverse and culturally specific storytelling. The movie's diverse cast and Italian setting offer a fresh take on the traditional romantic comedy, and its positive representation of Black culture is a welcome change.Overall, 'You, Me & Tuscany' is a charming and engaging romantic comedy that is worth watching for fans of the genre. While it may not break new ground in terms of storytelling, the film's strong performances and picturesque setting make it a delightful watch.

On 23 June 2016, the United Kingdom’s electorate shifted from party‑centric voting to a binary choice between staying in or leaving the European Union. A decade later, about 60 % of the population still define themselves by the side they chose in that single referendum, turning a one‑off political decision into a lasting personal identity.While analysts often focus on the policy fallout—economic turbulence, party infighting, and shifting trade relations—the real impact runs deeper. The referendum ignited a civil‑war‑like split that continues to shape elections, media narratives, and everyday conversations across the country.Before the global upheavals of the George Floyd protests and the Covid‑19 vaccine rollout, Brexit was Britain’s most potent form of identity politics. It spawned new media outlets, such as GB News, and programmes like The Rest Is Politics, while also marginalising older cultural tropes like the “centrist dad” or “gammon” heckler on Question Time. Figures such as Nigel Farage and Zack Polanski now occupy the political fringe rather than the mainstream.The analysis draws on the new book Tribal Politics: How Brexit Divided Britain by political scientists Sara Hobolt and James Tilley. Their longitudinal surveys reveal a simple yet striking pattern: the referendum transformed a previously lukewarm public attitude toward the EU into a powerful, identity‑based habit.Prior to 2016, most Britons held only a mild Euroscepticism and gave the EU little thought. Even former Prime Minister David Cameron tried to silence the issue in 2006, believing it failed to engage voters. The sudden elevation of a niche concern to a national obsession forced ordinary citizens to pick a side, discuss it in pubs, and embed it into their self‑image—a process James Clear describes as building “identity‑based habits”.Data from Hobolt and Tilley show that emotional attachment to the Brexit identity was modest before the vote, rose sharply as the referendum approached, and surged dramatically after the result was announced. The post‑vote period saw a flood of EU‑themed merchandise, street rallies, and even flag‑clashes at cultural events such as the 2017 Last Night of the Proms.Crucially, the tribal divide has not faded. By 2025, only around 40 % of “Leavers” feel comfortable discussing politics with “Remainers”, and the sentiment is reciprocated. This goes beyond mere disagreement; it reflects a level of social discrimination where individuals on opposite sides would hesitate to share a home or marry into each other’s families.The authors note that the split now extends to perceptions of reality itself. Even in 2024, Remainers and Leavers disagreed on basic economic indicators, illustrating how the referendum reshaped not just policy preferences but fundamental worldviews.Class‑based voting, which dominated the 20th‑century British political landscape, has been largely supplanted by this new cultural cleavage. A previous study co‑authored by Tilley showed that the Labour Party’s turn toward the political centre in the 1990s eroded traditional working‑class loyalty. Today, leader Keir Starmer’s working‑class credentials appear largely symbolic, offering little substantive change.With class politics receded, culture wars have taken centre stage. The Brexit campaign’s vague promises about trade left the nation with a protracted, messy adjustment period. Immigration, famously dubbed the “baseball bat” issue by Dominic Cummings, remains the most polarising policy divide, followed by foreign aid and even the death penalty.Hobolt and Tilley’s most striking chart shows that while Remainers and Leavers clash over immigration, they share little disagreement on economic equality, workers’ rights, or public ownership—issues that directly affect household incomes. This suggests that the political battle is driven more by symbolic identity than by material concerns, benefitting those already financially secure.In sum, the United Kingdom’s post‑Brexit reality is one of entrenched tribalism, where a single referendum has reshaped social bonds, political discourse, and perceptions of truth itself. The nation continues to grapple with the legacy of a vote that turned a policy decision into a lasting cultural fault line.

Assam, India – Under the sweltering April sun, Akram Ali stood amid the rubble of his four‑room house, a home he had built over 45 years ago. The demolition, part of a government‑led bulldozing operation on March 14, turned his residence into a pile of debris.Bulldozers descended on Islampur, a Muslim‑majority neighbourhood on the outskirts of Guwahati, and for four hours razed homes across 177 hectares (437 acres). The sweep rendered 400 families homeless, including Ali, who now lives in a tarpaulin shanty a few kilometres from his former home.Ali, a daily‑wage worker, told Al Jazeera that despite identifying as Goriya – “son of the soil” – his house was destroyed. The Goriyas are an Assamese‑speaking Muslim community traditionally settled in the tea‑belt region. In 2022, the ruling Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) officially recognised the Goriya, along with four other Muslim sub‑groups, as “Indigenous” to Assam.While this designation has afforded the Indigenous Muslims a degree of cultural safety, it has not shielded them from the state’s aggressive land‑clearance drives. Ali questioned the distinction, asking, “Weren’t our homes demolished because we are Muslims?”Muslims make up more than a third of Assam’s 31 million residents, according to the 2011 census. Of these, roughly 6.3 million are Bengali‑speaking “miyas,” often labelled “outsiders,” while about 4 million belong to Indigenous groups like the Goriya.The BJP, led nationally by Prime Minister Narendra Modi, has been courting the Indigenous Muslim vote ahead of the April 2026 state elections, where it seeks a third consecutive term after governing since 2016. Chief Minister Himanta Biswa Sarma, who has spearheaded the party’s crackdown on “miyas” since 2021, claims the government will “never target” Indigenous Muslims.Political analyst Bonojit Hussain explains that the BJP’s outreach serves two purposes: softening its communal image and capturing decisive vote blocks in constituencies where Indigenous Muslims and Hindus together decide the outcome. In seats such as Nalbari, where Indigenous Muslims account for over 25 % of the electorate, and Barkhetri, with roughly 80,000 Muslim voters, the community’s support can swing the result.Upper Assam, a region with a strong Assamese‑speaking identity, is especially critical. Journalist Firoz Khan notes that Indigenous Muslims influence the outcome in seven or eight of the 39 seats there, prompting the BJP to temper its overtly anti‑Muslim rhetoric in the area.Despite the party’s overtures, many Indigenous Muslims remain skeptical. Moinul Islam, spokesperson for the rights group Sadou Asom Goria Jatiya Parishad, warned that the BJP’s broader anti‑Muslim policies—evictions, voter‑list objections, and alleged deportations—are unlikely to win their votes.Earlier in 2025, similar demolition drives displaced hundreds of Goriya families in Lakhimpur and Golaghat districts, and a systematic campaign to challenge Muslim names on electoral rolls further strained relations.BJP spokesman Kishore Upadhyay dismissed the allegations as “malicious, biased and politically motivated,” but Indigenous groups argue the pattern signals an attempt to erase their cultural legacy.Recent actions by the state government reinforce this perception. Chief Minister Sarma renamed the only medical college in Barpeta—previously bearing the name of Goriya freedom fighter Fakhruddin Ali Ahmed—arguing that institutions should reflect their geographic location. Critics view the move as symbolic of a broader effort to marginalise Muslim contributions to Assam’s history.In December 2025, Sarma also proposed dropping the hyphen in “Sankar‑Azan,” a name that celebrated the syncretic legacy of 15th‑century polymath Srimanta Sankardev and 17th‑century Sufi saint Azan Peer. Communist Party member Isfaqur Rahman warned that such revisions reflect a “slow erasure of Assamese Muslim heritage.”For Ali, the demolition has hardened his political stance. “After being evicted, the chief minister called us illegal immigrants and broke our backs by destroying our homes,” he said. “We are the new miyas.”