Welcome to 2025! We hope you had a fantastic break. If you're one of those late-into-January types who manage to organise their lives in such a way that they are away right up until the schools come back, then kudos to you and thanks for being here with us while still on holiday. To everyone else, we hope you're ready for work tomorrow!

A return to routine isn't always a bad thing. That twilight-zone-esque period between Christmas and New Year, where time becomes a fluid concept and none of us knows what day of the week it is anymore, can do some crazy things to your brain. Now consider Sommarøy, a charming little fishing village in Norway, where this timeless state almost became a permanent feature once (or so we were all led to believe).

Due to its position above the Arctic Circle, Sommarøy’s +-300 residents experience life like few others on Earth. From May to July, the sun never sets, resulting in 69 uninterrupted days of daylight. Sounds great, except from November to January the sun doesn’t bother coming up at all, leaving the island shrouded in polar night!

In 2019, this tiny village made global headlines thanks to a cheeky marketing campaign by Innovation Norway. They spread a rumour that Sommarøy’s locals wanted to ditch the concept of time altogether, declaring their island the world’s first "time-free zone". According to the campaign, residents had even petitioned the government to abolish civil time - no clocks, no schedules, no calendars. In a place where the sun shines as brightly at midnight as it does at midday, you can almost imagine that time becomes… well, unnecessary.

“All over the world, people are characterised by stress and depression,” said Kjell Ove Hveding, the leader of the campaign. “In many cases this can be linked to the feeling of being trapped by the clock. We will be a time-free zone where everyone can live their lives to the fullest. Our goal is to provide full flexibility, 24/7. If you want to cut the lawn at 4 AM, then you can do it. If you want to paint your house at 2 AM, it’s OK. If we want to take a swim at 4 AM, we will. Here we enjoy every minute of the midnight sun, and yes, a coffee with friends on the beach at 2 AM is a normal thing.”

The story went viral, appearing in over 1,650 articles and reaching an estimated 1.2 billion people worldwide. Not bad for a campaign that cost less than $60,000 to run! The resulting media frenzy generated an impressive $11.4 million in publicity value, sparking heated debates online, with some calling it clever marketing and others dismissing it as outright “fake news”. It may not have been a real effort, but Sommarøy’s reminder rings true: time is a human construct, not a law of nature.

Also, the next time you feel down about a South African challenge, just imagine living in complete darkness for a few months each year. Eskom tried hard to give us that life, but thankfully failed.

In her first column for 2025, Dominique Olivier dives into the circular economy and specifically the right to repair and why it matters. The history of this is fascinating, with a fight between consumers who want to repair their possessions and producers who find ways to bake obsolescence into their products, forcing people back to the store to buy something new. Learn all about this issue here>>>

Read on for the tale of Just Nuisance, a special dog in the Royal Navy (rather than a report on activities over the festive season). And in this week's Fast Facts, Dominique brings you words that we learned in 2024.

Have a lovely day!

The Finance Ghost (follow on X) | Dominique Olivier (connect on LinkedIn)

TL;DR: If there’s one South African naval legend who stands head and paws above the rest, it’s Just Nuisance, the Great Dane who holds the singular honour of being the only dog ever officially enlisted in the Royal Navy.

Born on April Fool’s Day in 1937 (of course he was), Just Nuisance was a towering Great Dane with an even bigger personality. Over the years, he became a beloved icon of Simon’s Town, leaving his paw prints all over the naval base and the hearts of its sailors. His name wasn’t just a title; it was a promise. Charming troublemaker? Absolutely.

Nuisance lived up to his reputation from day one. His owner, Benjamin Chaney, ran the United Services Institute, a favourite sailor haunt in Simon’s Town. Nuisance wasted no time worming his way into the hearts (and pockets) of the crew, scoring endless snacks and tagging along on their adventures. When he wasn’t busy lounging on ship gangplanks (blocking anyone trying to board) he was off on escapades, most famously his solo train trips to Cape Town.

And that’s where things got complicated. Nuisance’s habit of sneaking onto trains didn’t sit well with railway officials, who threatened to have him put down unless his fares were paid. Cue an outcry from locals and sailors alike. One kind soul even offered to buy him a season ticket, but the Navy had a better idea: they enlisted him. On 25 August 1939, Just Nuisance became Able Seaman Nuisance, with “Bonecrusher” listed as his trade and “Scrounger” (later politely updated to “Canine Divinity League”) as his religion. Best of all, the rank came with free rail travel, putting his fare-dodging days behind him.

While he never went to sea, Nuisance took his duties on land seriously. Well, kind of. He accompanied sailors on trains, shepherded them back to base after a night at the pub, and even participated in promotional events, including a “wedding” to his fellow Great Dane, Adinda. Their union produced five puppies, two of whom were auctioned to raise funds for the war effort.

Of course, no naval career is without its mishaps. Nuisance’s service record was as colourful as his personality: he often went AWOL, lost his collar, refused to leave pubs at closing time, and once commandeered a petty officer’s bed. He even got into brawls with rival ship mascots, some with unfortunate outcomes. Yet through it all, Nuisance remained a morale booster and a legend in his own right.

Sadly, a car accident left Nuisance with injuries that led to his medical discharge in 1944. On his seventh birthday, he was put down at Simon’s Town Naval Hospital. His funeral was nothing short of grand: his body was draped in a Royal Naval White Ensign, a gun salute echoed through the hills, and the “Last Post” played in tribute.

Today, his legacy endures. A statue in Simon’s Town’s Jubilee Square stands tall in his honour, while an annual Great Dane parade keeps his memory alive, crowning a new lookalike each year. Mischievous, loyal, and utterly unforgettable, Just Nuisance isn’t just a naval legend; he’s the naval legend.

An assortment of facts that will only take you five minutes to read. In this week's edition, it's "Words we learned in 2024" (brought to you by dictionary.com)

• Bed rotting
  noun. The practice of spending many hours in bed during the day, often with snacks or an electronic device, as a voluntary retreat from activity or stress.

• The ick
  noun. A sudden feeling of disgust or dislike, often in response to the actions of another person.

• Barbiecore
  noun. An aesthetic or style featuring playful pink outfits, accessories, decor, etc., celebrating and modeled on the wardrobe of the Barbie doll.

• Greedflation
  noun. a rise in prices, rents, or the like, that is not due to market pressure or any other factor organic to the economy, but is caused by corporate executives or boards of directors, property owners, etc., solely to increase profits that are already healthy or excessive.

• Enshittification
  noun. The gradual degradation of an online platform or service’s functionality, as part of a cycle in which the platform or service first offers benefits to users to attract them, then pursues more and more profits at the expense of users.

• Brainrot
  noun/verb. A slang term used to describe the effects of being “perpetually online” and consuming large amounts of low-value internet content. The term, which can be used as both a noun and verb, is also used to describe an intense and often obsessive preoccupation with a particular topic, such as a TV show, movie, fandom, or idea.

• Nepo baby
  noun. A notable or powerful person, such as a celebrity or politician, with a parent who is also notable or powerful, especially one whose industry connections are perceived as essential to their success.