Yet upon opening the app the patriotic thrill evaporates. I am no Jim Waterson, and this isn’t an exposé for London Centric, but a simple bit of “British Googling” reveals a painful paradox of experienced legacy business trying to reach new heights. It is not merely unpolished. It is a digital facade that lacks the basic craftsmanship one expects from a nation that produced the Spitfire and the Silicon Chip.

The modern user is unforgiving. A burnt app poisons the well. One bad experience and retention evaporates. Not because the market is broken, but because the product never earned the right to exist with its basic quality.

In digital growth is a science of cohorts and metrics. In the UK we often mistake it for advertising spend (but beautiful and well copywrited). The real loss, however, isn’t money, it’s narrative. When such products fail the boardroom conclusion isn’t that the software was weak, but that “the market is rubbish.” It becomes another quiet strike against building ambitious software in Britain, another pub conversation about how “apps are nonsense anyway.”

And this is a tragedy of execution. A locally rooted,UK-centric taxi platform could be a point of national pride, but independence doesn’t come from flags or slogans; it comes from the rigour of the build.

Perhaps what is missing isn’t funding, but fluency. We need an open digital council. A place where legacy operators can ask naïve questions without embarrassment, and where experienced builders can offer blunt, free advice before millions are burned.

I see this spirit already in founders like Barney Hussey-Yeo at Cleo who backs the UK’s AI ecosystem with genuine conviction and cold cash in his recent offer to topup 50k pounds. That same energy could lift traditional British businesses into the digital age without diluting the “engineering stubbornness” that makes them distinct.

Britain does not lack ideas, engineers or distribution. What we lack, occasionally, is the patience to do software properly. We must stop treating digital as a “bolt-on” and start treating it as the core engine of our future.

Let’s build again. Smarter. Locally. It is time to make “Made in Britain” a mark of digital excellence, because quality, quietly, is the easiest thing to fix.

If anything, I am always happy to help: https://www.linkedin.com/in/pavelguzhikov/

P.S. Jim Waterson, should you be reading: I am always available to provide the technical rigour needed to unmask the mindless burn of capital, be it from the taxpayer or the private investor, on digital vanity projects.

I was 33 when I properly visited a dentist for the first time. Four wisdom teeth gone in one sitting. After that — one filling in an entire lifetime. Statistically improbable, apparently. The great dental drama largely passed me by. I had already made the sensible switch from a hard brush to super-soft, settled comfortably into Swiss Curaprox and their exuberant, almost confectionery flavours and carried on blissfully untroubled.

But I do have a weakness. If something exists Made in the UK, I want to find it. Not for efficiency, but for affection. The quiet patriotism of engineering things properly. That question kept returning: aren’t we doing this ourselves?

And then I found Gutology. Only the British would be audacious enough to put the word “Gut” on a tube of toothpaste. In an industry obsessed with sparkling smiles and minty fireworks, it feels almost defiant. Grounded. Slightly eccentric. British.

The first impression was restrained. Clean, pleasant, but without the aggressive mint/fruit assault you get from the Swiss. And then something familiar happened. Like giving up sugar in tea (made it 12 years ago). At first you assume you’ve been cheated. Then, a few days later you suddenly taste the tea itself. Not the sugar. The thing. Gutology works exactly like that — quietly, politely, it wins you over.

The thinking behind it is deeply British too I reckon. The mouth isn’t a sealed system; it’s the beginning of everything. Microbiome, balance, gentler chemistry, no unnecessary violence to the ecosystem. A scientific idea delivered without theatre. A bit of research, a bit of humor and a lot of calm confidence. Not shouting. Just carefully made.

My children have fully surrendered to the strawberry version. The mouthwash is refreshing in a way that feels natural, not nuclear. And somehow it all feels not just oral, but systemic — as if your body notices the intention behind the product. British care, delivered without fuss.

Now, I should be honest. The floss is too thin. For now, the Americans — specifically Boka — still hold the title for tensile satisfaction. We can do better there. But the toothpaste? It’s magnificent. Everything else in my daily ritual is now Gutology. Used constantly. With pleasure.

A quiet, confident victory for British manufacturing.

Let’s scale it.

Gutology, British toothpaste: https://gutology.co.uk/

I was sitting at a red light, having dropped my daughter at school. London traffic is slow enough to feel civilised, so I reached for my phone to choose a song. Nothing dramatic. And then, in the side mirror, something large and yellow crept backwards towards me — a police car, reversing down the oncoming lane with surgical precision. It stopped window-to-window with mine. The officer, immaculate haircut and all, leaned out and delivered the most accurate sermon I’ve heard this year: “Hey, you idiot. Get off your fucking phone.”

No outrage. No performance. Just a clean, honest slap of civic responsibility.

I apologised on instinct. It felt almost… corrective. A baptism by traffic law.

A few weeks earlier, an elderly woman had done a similar job — scolding me at a crossing for holding my phone. “A boy was hit here,” – she said. – “We don’t need any more of that.” No hysteria. Just the authority of someone who remembers what society is for.

And then a man walking past my car recently. He’d already gone by, stopped, walked back, and said firmly into my open window: “Hey, mate — don’t. It’s dangerous.”

Three small interruptions.

Three strangers taking responsibility for a street they happen to share with me.

This, to me, is Made in UK.

Not the logos or the labels — but the stubborn belief that public space belongs to everyone, and therefore everyone must guard it.

As long as that instinct survives — that quiet, unembarrassed involvement — Britain will keep finding its way forward.

For a long time I drank San Pellegrino, but then I embarked on an adventure to explore various water brands from Scotland, Ireland, England, and Wales. After sampling many different types, I fell in love with the sparkling water from South Downs National Park. It's effervescent, playful, and delightfully bubbly. Perfect with a slice of lemon, some ice, or even in a protein shake — it's simply magnificent. This fizzy delight also pairs wonderfully with electrolytes.

Moreover, their still water is equally impressive — soft and smooth on the palate. Now I regularly order from them through their subscription service on their website, which makes purchasing water both convenient and cost-effective. The delivery is impeccable and timely, adding to the overall joy of this discovery.

It's puzzling why such an exquisite brand isn't readily available on retail shelves.

https://www.southdownswater.co.uk

Some time ago, my family and I visited Chewton Glen, which we enjoyed immensely. In my opinion, people who come to the UK (and even those who live here) tend to underestimate the zillion places outside London. Perhaps these places are so charming precisely because they remain untouched by tourist noise. Anyway, back to scents.

One of the things I particularly love about such places is their sets of shampoos, soaps, and other little luxuries. Every location tries to express its own character through small details — including the fragrances. And Chewton Glen introduced me to Noble Isle, a British bath & body brand.

“Designed to evoke nostalgia and re-live moments of happiness with every scent, using unique perfumes with distinctive and emotive top, heart, and base notes.”

They truly deliver on that mission — I now enjoy their products daily at home. I love that subtle dizziness when a familiar scent stirs a wave of nostalgic pleasure. The only thing I’d change is to make the bottle caps a bit more forgiving.

Enjoy them here: https://www.nobleisle.com/

It lacks the Barcelona-style marketing shine of TropicFeel (whose packs I also admire), but Salkan’s design feels lived-in rather than staged — you sense it’s made for miles, not Instagram ads.

Slightly odd that the best colour (imo) — that deep blue from their ads — isn’t actually for sale. But still, this is one of the few everyday-carry bags I trust equally for a hike or a workday.

And yes — it’s the first pack with a hook instead of a zip/lock on the main compartment that actually works for me.

https://www.discoversalkan.com/