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May 30, 2008

Intern on skateboard

Last week, I made a reference to having seen, during rush hour Friday morning, a young woman in a sensible black business suit skateboarding to work in downtown Baltimore, along Guilford Avenue. Skateboard was hot pink, too.

Turns out she's Christine Carey and she skateboards to work at Maryland Legal Aid on Lexington Street, where’s she’s a summer intern in the organization's Farmworker Program. Joe Surkiewicz, Legal Aid's communications director, says Christine skateboards to UB Law School the rest of the year. "She started skateboarding as an undergrad at Loyola Marymount in L.A., a city, she reports, with better sidewalks and nicer drivers than Baltimore. She won’t skateboard in the street here." Christine walks home, because she lives up a hill, and she walks to work when it’s raining. "Replacing those bearings is expensive," she tells Surkiewicz.

 

$3.75 at Costco

I haven't waited in line for gasoline since -- what? -- Jimmy Carter was president? But at this price it's understandable. Pretty good rush on the pumps at Costco yesterday. Also, all the chicken breast was gone by Thursday night. What's up with that?

I rented a Honda Civic last weekend for the zip trip to Foxboro for the NCAA lax semifinals and, while I didn't measure the gas mileage, the Civic only seemed to sip as we zipped. I put $68 worth in the tank for the round-trip. Can't wait to end my eight-year stint as Dan the Van Man, and get into something more efficient and, you know, less dorky.

By the way, Foxboro is crummy. Nice stadium, awful place, the Great Un-Near. Baltimore is so lucky to have downtown stadiums for both major franchises. When TV directors present shots of historic sites of Boston during national telecasts of sports events from Foxboro -- it's a total fraud. Foxboro is more than 30 miles from Phaneuil Hall. You can look it up. 

 

May 29, 2008

DUI sentencing

In the matter of the tragedy in Howard County -- an illegal immigrant, drunk beyond drunk, slams his car into another, killing a Marine corporal and his date -- the parents of Cpl. Brian Mathews are predictably and understandably upset with the 10-year prison sentence imposed by Judge Louis A. Becker on the 27-year-old Mexican who killed their son. The corporal's dad told reporters that the sentence was not sufficient. The corporal's mother said her son "fought for the system and it failed him." But how does the sentence compare with those in other cases in Maryland, particularly those where the defendant's citizenship is not a factor, as it obviously was in this one?

Some recent news items from the Sun:

April 2008:  A former Johns Hopkins Hospital pathologist could serve as little as one
year in prison for his role in a head-on crash on the Jones Falls Expressway
that left a 22-year-old woman with injuries that later killed her.

February 2008: An Anne Arundel County man who was drunk and high on drugs when he caused a
crash that killed three dialysis patients was sentenced to five years in prison, amid emotional pleas from the victims' families for a more substantial punishment. Judge Paul A. Hackner sentenced Fontaine Pridgett, 47, of Cape St. Claire to 15 years in prison with all but five years suspended and five years of supervised probation - a slightly harsher sentence than prosecutors had
requested for the three counts of homicide by motor vehicle while intoxicated.

May 2007:  A day before he was to stand trial on charges of driving drunk at 120 mph
on the Baltimore Beltway, a former Annapolis man admitted guilt in a high-speed drunken-driving crash that occurred a month and a half later and killed his passenger, a Naval Academy midshipman. The driver's blood-alcohol level was 0.17 percent, about twice the legal limit. He received a five-year jail sentence -- with all but nine months suspended! -- from Anne Arundel Circuit Judge Joseph P. Manck.

It's also interesting to note that, in Baltimore County last year, a woman with a Spanish surname received a 10-year sentence for that awful dragging death of a child in a stroller on Loch Raven Boulevard. Baltimore County Circuit Judge John O. Hennegan sentenced the woman, Lazara Arellano de Hogue, to five fewer years than the state had requested, but he gave her a hard 10 -- with none of the time suspended. Arellano de Hogue was not drunk, had a valid driver's license and was a legal resident of the United States.

 

Immigrants

Anti-immigrant fever has not infested the federal judiciary -- at least not yet. Yesterday in Texas, a federal judge ruled a local ordinance prohibiting apartment rentals to illegal immigrants unconstitutional.

Strong piece today on the right-wing media, Obama and illegal immigrants by Ruben Navarrette of the San Diego Tribune. Click here to read it.

There's no question the right has created a new Red Scare with its obssession with our estimated 12 million illegal immigrants. It's probably the main reason Congress failed to make the comprehensive, sensible reforms proposed by President Bush last year. The other day on Midday, where most of our callers are informed and thinking people, one spoke with a kind of breathless concern about illegals moving to Maryland by the busload to take advantage of our "welfare" benefits.  (She must listen to some other radio station most of the time; hot talk about illegals is the rage there.) The people engaged in this debate claim to honor the distinction between "illegal aliens" and "legal immigrants," but the end result of all the angry rhetoric is a tragic blurring of the line in the minds of many. There's not much of a leap from the anti-illegals obssession to Pat Buchanan's clarion that white Christians have lost their dominance in America, dooming the country.

Discovered, in an old weather-beaten paperback titled, American Ballads: A little poem called "America Greets An Alien," by poet unknown. The poem probably dates from the 19th century. Imagine such a sentiment expressed on national televison or radio today:

          "Hail, guest! We ask not what thou art.
           If friend, we greet thee hand and heart;
           If stranger, such no longer be;
           If foe, our love shall conquer thee."

The Big Sort

Thursday on the Midday show at 1:

Bill Bishop, author of The Big Sort (Houghton Mifflin, May 2008)

In 1992, about 37 percent of American voters lived in landslide counties – that is, counties where one political party won elections by 20 percent or more. By the year 2000, the number of Americans in landslide counties had risen to 45 percent, and the polarization continues to grow. America has become a series of population clusters, with many of us having as neighbors people who live, think and vote as we do. More than ever in the history of the nation, the once-Great Melting Pot has become segregated into a series of homogeneous communities where Americans are surrounded by the like-minded. Bill Bishop, calls it The Big Sort, and he says the clustering of like-minded America is tearing us apart.

MTA on Midday

Midday at noon Thursday (88.1 FM)

As gasoline prices hit $4 a gallon, more commuters in Maryland are leaving their cars and trucks at home and hopping a bus or train to work. As the Sun reported earlier this month, the Maryland Transit Administration wants to expand service on its long-distance bus lines from places as far-flung as Hagerstown, Kent Island and Ellicott City. Ridership on almost all forms of transit - including subway, city buses and light rail - is up in Maryland and across the nation. In the first hour of Midday, a talk about with Paul J. Wiedefeld, top man at the Maryland Transit Administration, about how the MTA is dealing with increased ridership and what’s ahead for public transportation in Maryland.

Comments and questions welcome at midday@wypr.org

 

May 28, 2008

Clem Florio

I'm sorry to say that my last conversation with Clem Florio, handicapper of race horses, gifted dancer, student of boccie and lover of the sporting life, took place too many years ago. It was just after Hasim "Rock" Rahman, heavyweight out of Baltimore, had lucky-punched Lennox Lewis to the world title, and that, my friends, was seven -- count 'em -- seven years ago.

We were at the Swallow at the Hollow, talking about the sweet science, and how all the world prefers a heavyweight. Clem had been a boxer himself, once upon a time, and he fought as a middleweight when he was growing up in New York. Clem had fought his way out of Ozone Park in Queens, and in those days, boxing was for the young Italian-Americans there -- as it has been for young African-Americans -- a way to make some money, a way out of poverty. Guys who fought for money dressed better; some even had cars. To Clem, a few rounds, a few punches landed and taken, followed by a payday - all that looked pretty good -- at least for a little while. I think he said he' been in 85 fights, and one marriage.

Back in the spring of 2001, within minutes after Rahman defeated Lewis, the Baltimore-trained heavyweight said something that struck a nerve with Clem. "After he beat Lewis," Clem noted, "he says, `Ma, you won't have to work no more.' . . . Oh my God! I mean, that's what I wanted to come of it for my mother - that she wouldn't have to work anymore. That's like something out of a movie."

So was Clem -- a Balitmore guy with New York roots, a dancer's charm, a pugilist's feisty attitude, a handicapper's savvy, and an Italian-American's passion for just about everything, particularly a good game of boccie. He had a romantic spirit, a sense of humor, a baritone's pipes and a flare for the dramatic. One thing about Clem -- he was always nice to me, always took an interest in what I was writing about, my stories. He believed in unions and was a proud member of the NAACP. He hated hypocrisy and phony pols. He called me once in a while with a story about some down-and-out palooka who needed a hand. He gave me -- and many others with a microphone or note pad -- great interviews during many a Preakness Week. He was always colorful and animated, and funny; he was a man in love with life.

I'd see Clem at the fights now and then, or in Little Italy, in the sun and sausage-scented smoke of the St. Anthony Festival. He always had a smile and a good word, and he wasn't above taking a little action on the outcome of a boccie game.

Rest in peace.

May 27, 2008

Dance For Cause

Like to dance? Want to take lessons in salsa and tango? Here's an opportunity to cut a rug for a good cause. Mindy Mintz Mordecai's husband, John “Monte” Mordecai, died from esophageal cancer in March, and she and her two daughters have taken up the cause of public awareness of this form of the deadly disease. They're putting together a dance event to raise funds.

"More Americans will die of esophageal cancer this year than from melanoma, yet the public knows little about this deadly cancer and how to prevent it," Mindy writes. "Esophageal cancer cases are increasing at a faster rate than any other cancer in the U.S.  Fewer than one in five patients diagnosed with esophageal cancer will survive five years.  Heartburn or reflux can lead to esophageal cancer."

Mindy's family created a non-profit organization to fight esophageal cancer. Her 12-year-old, Mara, wanted to host a fundraising event that would raise money for medical research and incorporate her love of dance. So, on June 1, Mara and many volunteers will host the first annual Dance for the Cure at Towson University’s Center for the Arts. 

From 10 am until 3 pm, participants of all ages and levels of experience can take classes in a wide variety of fun dance disciplines like salsa, hip hop, ballroom, swing, tango, Irish, Afro Caribbean and belly dancing. Baltimore’s own Britt Shubow, who danced on Broadway in Mamma Mia, will teach some Broadway hoofin'.  Monte Mordecai’s surgeon, Dr. Stephen Yang of Johns Hopkins Hospital, is a ballroom dance aficionado and will teach a class, too.

During each of five hours, participants can choose from four different dance class offerings.  Proceeds from the fees paid for classes, as well as any donations, will go to fund medical research into esophageal cancer and raise public awareness about how to prevent or detect this deadly disease at an early stage.

www.BeACancerDancer.org

May 26, 2008

Two other solutions

Regarding Sunday's column, a reader in Charles Village says there's one other solution to the prospect of the $100 fill-up at the gas tank: "Suck it up. If you were all so obtuse as to buy those obnoxious, oversized, endanger-everyone-else-on-the-road gas-guzzling SUVs to begin with, then y'all are getting exactly what you deserve."  And Hummer drivers? Please! I can't wait to see them get their comeuppance!"

Regarding global warming and reducing our carbon footprints, I suggested that Congress just ban gas-powered lawn mowers. All our sprawling lawns, and massive highway median strips -- they'd be better with trees, wild native plants or ground-cover. But former Sun reporter Bob Erlandson contributed this solution -- a way to keep lawns without gasoline:

A couple of years ago, after my heart surgery made hauling the heavy lawn mower out of the basement a couple of times a week a problem, I found what has been the perfect solution.
I didn't want an electric mower with the long cord trailing behind and just waiting for me to run the mower across and cut it.
Then I found the perfect solution: A battery-powered mower designed for suburban lawns. They are made by the DR Equipment Company, of Vergennes, Vermont.
Here's a link to their newest model, which is slightly larger and higher-powered than mine, which is now in its third season.
I'm sure you've seen DR's commercials on TV for their heavy-duty brush-clearing machines, tillers, etc. But then they developed this lawn mower, which I can carry up the basement steps easily. The batteries live on the charger in the dining room.
The battery runs for about an hour on an eight-hour charge. They recommend that you have two, and that's worked out perfectly.
The longer I've had it, the more I appreciate it. So, if you're looking for a nice, heavy gas-powered mower, call me, I have one for you.
If you want to be GREEN and operate a nice, quiet mower that won't wake up your neighbors, go DR and Neuton.

 

Memorial Day

There are really two holidays today -- the one marked by flags and wreaths
and ceremony, and the one that takes place in people's hearts. And it's in
hearts that Memorial Day endures.

Memorial Day is the most personal of public holidays. It has
transformed into that over the years. Somewhere along the way, between the
time it was officially recognized as a day to honor the nation's war dead and
the time it became an obscenely commercialized and busy holiday weekend,
Memorial Day became a time to honor the memory of all who passed before us,
civilian and military, and who gave our lives meaning. It was an important day
not only for families who suffered losses in American wars, but for all
families. My first memories of this holiday go back to a small New England
town and two striking images -- men in uniform weeping at the sound of taps,
and men and women in "Sunday clothes" decorating graves of our immigrant
ancestors.
    In searching for reflections on this holiday, I recalled a poem by another
New Englander, Walter Hard of Vermont, and asked a friend to fetch it off his
bookshelf. 
    It is titled, "On Memorial Day," and I was surprised to discover
that, in it, Hard makes no mention of combat or valor. Instead, it is a
starkly personal meditation about a man visiting a graveyard by a brook.

And so it was with all the people there
    Whose names were carved on the stones:
    They were each one a part of the living present.
    To the living, who would come to that spot
    On this special day of remembrance,
    Had come something which lived on
    From generation to generation.
    Something passed on to be woven into the warp and woof
    Of new and ever-changing times.
    Things worthy and things unworthy;
    Things that helped and things that hindered;
    Talents hidden in a napkin of obscurity
    Which chance unfolded in another generation.
    There he stood in the midst of a world that had been
    But which was part of the living present
    As it would be of the days yet to come.
    Here indeed was life immortal.

Bob Blatchley, RIP

I was saddened to learn of the death of Bob Blatchley, one-time Baltimore news reporter and a story teller so gifted he would make his Irish ancestors proud. Blatchley was one of our favorite people. Joe Curran had it right when he said, "He was a man who had nothing but friends." Blatchley brightened any fire, crime or election scene into which, cigarette at lip and notebook or microphone in hand, he strolled. He worked for The News-American and some of the radio stations here. He spoke in as strong a Bawlmer accent as you'd ever hear, and made not attempt to disguise it or even polish it for broadcast.

Blatch was a hard-working news reporter, trying to patch together enough income to support his family. I first encountered him when the governor or Maryland was on trial in federal court. For a time, in my experience, he was Forrest Gump, showing up at every major event in the Baltimore of the 1970s -- the Good Friday killing of a police officer, the crash of a plane into Memorial Stadium, the World Series, the Preakness, major elections and indictments. Blatch seemed to relish opportunities to teach me a thing or two about Baltimore -- and it didn't matter that I worked for the competition, The Evening Sun.

Blatch seemed to always be around, and then suddenly, he was gone from the news business. He'd been going to law school at night, and now the time had come for a career change. After that, almost every time I saw Blatch he was dressed in a jacket and tie, and he had a briefcase. But he still had funny stories.

He was employed for a time with the Maryland public defender. I saw him in District Court one day, holding a stack of files, searching in the gallery for men and women he'd been assigned to defend. There's a time, about 30 minutes before court convenes, when assistant public defenders might stand before the assemblage of defendants and their families and simply call out names. Blatch and another PD were doing this together one morning, taking turns calling out names, except the names Blatch uttered were all famous murderers:  "Richard Speck? Richard Speck here? . .  Elizabeth Borden? Is there an Elizabeth Borden here? Looks like a failure to appear . . . . " This went on for several minutes, with none of the real defendants recognizing the joke.

Blatch always had a joke, or an amusing anecdote. I think I first heard the phrase "listing to starboard from too much port" when it came off Blatch's lips in telling a story of a drunk, and the story probably came from Blatch's experiences growing up near Greenmount Avenue and Dolan's Bar and Grill in the old 9th Ward.

Dolan's had been opened by an immigrant Irish family in the 1920s and became a Baltimore institution over the decades. The Irish-Americans gathered there to plot politics and, beginning in the 1950s, Joe Dolan made the family-run tavern a theater where hospitality and pranks were raised to art forms. Blatch told me all these stories -- how Joe Dolan kept a casket in the bar's basement so he could play jokes on passed-out patrons by placing them in it, guaranteeing that they'd wake up terrified and full of promises never to a drop of grog again; how he rigged a bar stool with electricity, how he flew his airplane low over Greenmount Avenue and tossed dummies from the aircraft. All those tales came from Blatch. He had an endless supply. He loved his hometown and he was one its great story-tellers. Last time I saw him, at a lacrosse game, I suggested he write a book.  I don't know if he did. If not, then surely it's our loss, but surely heaven's gain.

 

May 22, 2008

Mom's encouragement

Here's something I had to share -- the comments of a mother of a former Maryland prison inmate who contacted us for help a while ago as he tried to re-enter society and find a job: "My son is doing fine. He had a minor setback with a parole violation, but is now moving forward again. We continue to support and encourage him, always reminding him that your future will always outweigh your past when you live your present with purpose and integrity."

Alonso

Today on Midday at noon: Baltimore school administrators unveiled a plan to reduce violence and the dropout rate by overhauling alternative education. We’ll discuss this plan and other school issues with Andres Alonso, Baltimore City Schools CEO. Listeners can e-mail a question in advance of the show to midday@wypr.org

Midday airs on 88.1, WYPR-FM, noon to 2 pm, Mondays through Thursdays.

Hollow Meatloaf

I hadn't even been drinking much. I had only cut half way through a Cuba Libra at the time.
But the menu came and said, "Hollow Meatloaf."
Hollow Meatloaf?
And I didn't get it. For a moment, I'd forgotten where I was -- in the dining room of our corner saloon, the Swallow at The Hollow, Northern Parkway and York Road, know by most of us as The Hollow.
Still, the wires weren't connecting in my brain.
Hollow Meatloaf?
I thought it meant Lite Fare -- you know, a slice of meatloaf with nothing inside -- an air-filled meatloaf.
My dinner companion pointed out that the meatloaf was named for the establishment.
And, well, duh . . .
And that's my story.
Next time, I will have a couple of drinks before ordering.

Cops, courts, courtesy

What we have here is a letter a lawyer wrote to a Maryland District Court judge after appearing as a defendant in a traffic case. The lawyer decided to share it, three years after he wrote it, in response to last week's column about the action taken against the rude and sometimes profane Baltimore County judge, Bruce Lamdin. The lawyer who wrote this wimped out about mailing it; the judge never saw it. The attorney asked -- and this won't be hard to believe -- that I not publish his name.

Comments welcome. Personally, I like the idea of judges asking about courtesy in traffic cases.  I don't find the question offensive, and being biased in favor of civility is a good thing. I have no problem with it. I just think the defendants should be asked whether the cops who stop them are courteous, too.

Anyway, in the interest of starting an argument on today's blog, I publish the letter:

"During the time that I sat waiting for my case to be called," the attorney wrote the judge, "I had the opportunity to observe your management of the docket and conduct of the proceedings and was generally impressed.  But (sorry, there is always a but.)  there is one thing you did that gave me pause, and the more I thought about it, the more it troubles me.  Thus, this letter.

"For each defendant who plead 'guilty with an explanation,' you heard the explanation and then turned to the officer and asked, 'W he/she polite and courteous?'   The first couple of times you made this inquiry, I dismissed it as an offhand remark.  But it became clear from your repetition of this question in every case that you believed the officer’s subjective perception of the defendant’s 'politeness' and 'courteousness'  was somehow relevant to your decision on disposition.  Candidly, I was offended by the question.  It implies that I may not have been 'polite.'  Would you not be equally offended if I asked your bailiff if you are a polite and courteous person.  Defendants should be presumed to be honest, polite adults who should be treated as such notwithstanding their having plead guilty to a violation (often technical only and not unsafe) of the traffic laws.  I guess I am saying I think your question was impolite and discourteous.  Perhaps you, in turn, think my last sentence is impolite and discourteous.   I am getting dizzy and confused.   Do you see my point? 

"My experience leads to the conclusion that police officers are probably not the best judges of what constitutes 'politeness' and/or 'courteousness.'   I think it likely that any contrariness or assertiveness by a defendant runs a high probability of being characterized as 'impolite' or 'discourteous.'  This worries me because I am a lawyer. Lawyers are accustomed to be being assertive and sometimes contrary.  To wit, this letter.  Your 'politeness' question gives the perception that you are conferring on police officers even greater discretionary authority than they already enjoy by inviting their subjective input into the sentencing decision.  Is this good?

"The public is not naïve to the 'wink and nod' that sometimes takes place in courtrooms.  In times past, I have heard judges ask the officer in traffic case guilty pleas: 'Anything to add, officer?'  This was obviously a much more subtle way of asking, 'Officer, would you like me to hang this guy for any reason?' The officer could then say something like, 'The defendant was very impolite, discourteous and disrespectful, your Honor,' which the judge would then understand was code for 'hang him, please.' Your politeness question makes this 'wink and nod' even more obvious. 

"I understand that judges may develop a certain kinship with officers that appear repeatedly before them and want to help them out by punishing the 'discourteous and impolite public.'  But as a practicing attorney and as a private citizen, I have seen plenty of examples of police abuse of discretion.  I can’t forget the friend who upon becoming an assistant states’ attorney commented that the most interesting thing about the job was how frequently police officers fabricate facts, even when completely unnecessary to the conviction. 

"Perhaps you should more appropriately have asked me whether the officer was 'polite and courteous' when he stopped me and taken that into account in your disposition.

"I have not investigated whether other judges on the District Court ask a similar 'politeness' question of police officers, however, I am informed by attorney colleagues that some do.   Thus, it might be appropriate to pass this letter along to the administrative judge, for further consideration and action.  Obviously, I think you and any other District Court judges who ask 'politeness' questions should cease this practice.

"I hope that you accept this letter as friendly constructive criticism and do not consider it too impolite.  If you do conclude that it is impolite, I sure hope I never see you again in traffic court!"

Wounded warriors on ice

Here's a link to an Armed Forces Press story out of the Gardens Ice House in Laurel last weekend -- veterans disabled from the war in Iraq giving ice hockey a try. Two Baltimore fellas are mentioned, and John Coleman, quoted in the story, is the father of a Iraq veteran.

May 21, 2008

Lost mural

Mark Chalkley, who keeps an eye on such things, says some of Baltimore's cityscape murals have been painted over. These were at Wells and Hanover, in South Baltimore as you come past Port Covington and under the I-95 South overpass. I can't say that I ever noticed them. But Chalkley has photos -- and good thing, since the murals are now gone.

"In case you hadn't seen them," Chalkley says, "for about 4 years, the walls of a nondescript building at Wells and Hanover were decorated with a sort of mysterious but very beautifully painted large-scale mural about some immigrant story. There were scenes from the life of some Eastern  European immigrants, done in very bold strokes. Why there, I'm not sure, but they did something for that otherwise bleak corner of the city.

 "About May 6, coming back into the city from Anne Arundel County,  I noticed they were gone--painted over with a heavy brown paint. The building is now labelled 'Bumper Globes of Federal Hill,' whatever that means. I assume it's a business. I am sorry that the trade in bumper globes, whatever they are, required these people to paint over a unique artwork.

  "I'm wondering if the artist or artists still live in Baltimore, and if they could be helped to re-create that mural some place more hospitable. I think the destruction of that good public art is a loss to the community.
  "Anyway, in case anybody is interested or cares, I have some photos of that mural that I took a few years ago, and the negatives. So it is gone but not completely forgotten."

Triplet Eagle Scouts

Nick, Jim and Matt Podhorniak, the triplets from Middle River featured in my Mother's Day column, become Eagle Scouts Friday night at St. Joseph's in Fullerton, 8400 block Belair Road. Triplets have reached Eagle status only one other time in the history of the Boy Scouts of America. The boys graduate from Calvert Hall next week. Here's a link to their troop's web site.

Spell check

The Scripps National Spelling Bee is next week, and today on the radio show, we'll talk with the woman who directs the competition, two Maryland children who have competed -- one a contestant this year -- and we'll quiz our listeners. Call in, spell our words correctly and win a prize. That's the 1 o'clock hour on 88.1 FM

 

Bealefeld

Today at noon:  A conversation with Baltimore Police Commissioner Fred Bealefeld. Questions and comments welcome at midday@wypr.org 

Midday, 88.1, WYPR-FM

May 20, 2008

Preakness 'time bomb'

One-hundred-and-twenty-six people were ejected, Baltimore police made six arrests and Pimlico staffers made 17 calls for emergency medical treatment to the infield, but Marty Kwedar of Virginia, who says he's survived four Preaknesses, thinks things were a lot worse than reported. He also thinks the owners of the track are asking for big trouble -- allowing a "time bomb&q