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Our failing water firms are a damning reflection of Broken Britain

Our failing water firms are a damning reflection of Broken Britain

Independent2 days ago
The latest report from the Environment Agency on the state of Britain's rivers is a veritable shower of euphemism and shame. 'Serious pollution incidents', the bland bureaucratic term preferred by the agency, are up by 60 per cent just in the last year.
We all know what that means: lumpy sewage in streams and on seashores that turns the stomach of anyone nearby, asphyxiates fish, and generally decimates the environment. 'Wastewater' leaking out while being carried uphill is apparently a particular problem, one 'impacting' swimmers.
Around 80 per cent of the most serious 'incidents' were down to three companies – Thames Water (33 spillages), Southern Water (15) and Yorkshire Water (13).
There is no suggestion that the situation is likely to improve; indeed, all the talk is of Thames Water, the largest company of its kind in the country, collapsing under the weight of its own debt rather than its scandalous record on pollution.
It's a damning reflection of 'Broken Britain'. Why has a supposedly civilised G7 economy grown so easily accustomed to such an appalling state of affairs? It may be true that de-industrialisation has cleaned up some of the larger rivers and estuaries in recent decades, but the water companies, the regulators and successive governments can hardly take credit for that.
What they are responsible for is what is in their control – maintaining a sewage system that does what it is expected of it in the modern world. It is one of the most basic services – and yet in parts of the UK, it feels little more than a hopeless aspiration.
This river of excrement has been rolling for years, and, while the details can be complex, the principal streams of blame that feed into the scandal can be easily identified. Incomprehensibly weak regulation is the strongest of the currents, either because Ofwat was never given sufficient powers or a wide enough remit, or because it was incompetent, or all three.
There has never been a shortage of official bodies nominally overseeing matters – the Environment Agency and various iterations of the Department for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs, as well as local authorities – but always a huge deficit of effective democratic control.
There is, of course, a fundamental contradiction at the heart of this particular privatised industry: the provision of clean running water and efficient sewage disposal may not align with the commercial imperatives of the companies denationalised in 1989 in England and Wales (Scotland and Northern Ireland were spared the experiment). Profit and public service can co-exist and even flourish – but not always, and not everywhere.
Even if the industry had been regulated better, the privatised model combined with zero competition and regulated tariffs was poorly prepared for the task of investing the vast sums needed to renew the crumbling Victorian infrastructure, let alone build the reservoirs and pipework required to cater for a population that was to expand by some 12 million in the ensuing decades. Some public services ought not to be expected, let alone forced, to turn a profit.
But from early on, the major weakness in the regulatory regime was becoming apparent – that while the need to monitor charges and water quality was recognised, there was no oversight of the financial health of the companies.
Once the shares had been acquired from the small shareholders in the initial public offerings and placed in the hands of private equity firms, the companies were free to load themselves with as much debt as they fancied – which paid for bumper dividends for the new shareholders. It left a vital public service hopelessly over-mortgaged.
The chance was taken for some lucrative asset stripping, even certain reservoirs were sold off, and the companies were left so enfeebled that if Ofwat tried to fine them, they could plausibly claim that they would go bust. They contrived to make themselves too big to fail. Or so they hoped.
On Monday, the government will publish a review of the industry by Sir Jon Cunliffe, the head of the Independent Water Commission, and its own proposals will follow. As we reported on Friday, the government is expected to scrap Ofwat. It must use the power of parliament to chart a new course for the industry.
Despite the pollution crisis, the Treasury cannot afford immediately to renationalise the most distressed of the operators, Thames Water, because of its enormous debts – more than £16bn.
It seems inevitable that Thames will fall into the special procedure that will ensure continuing water and sewage services to 15 million customers in southern England and London while the government takes control.
This is a far cheaper remedy for the taxpayer, but it does still mean that the considerable cost of cleaning up the rivers, keeping the taps on and the loos flushing will, to some extent, fall to the taxpayers as well as the bill payers. Either that, or we just get used to having the dirtiest rivers and beaches in Europe.
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The confrontation at Orgreave: a visual timeline
The confrontation at Orgreave: a visual timeline

The Guardian

time29 minutes ago

  • The Guardian

The confrontation at Orgreave: a visual timeline

The mass picket of the Orgreave coke works in 1984 has its origins in what has become known as the battle of Saltley Gate. It involved a mass picket of a Birmingham fuel depot and has been called the British miners' Agincourt. The picket was initially 400 miners from Yorkshire, led by a 34-year-old firebrand called Arthur Scargill, but was swelled by at least 15,000 engineering workers from surrounding factories. The picket was successful and helped bring Edward Heath's government to its knees. Heath, subsequently forced to introduce a three-day week, lost the election in 1974 while Scargill was propelled to national fame. A meeting is held at Silverwood Miners Welfare, in Rotherham. Scargill, now president of the National Union of Mineworkers (NUM), addresses miners about the following day's picket. He says 2,000 miners from South Yorkshire collieries would be at Orgreave, an enormous plant outside Rotherham where coal was processed into coke to be used in British Steel's vast factories, 40 miles east in Scunthorpe. That evening, miners from further afield arrive, staying overnight in places such as the Northern College, in Barnsley. Others sleep on floors. About 400 pickets gather near the plant. It is shaping up to be a beautiful day with not a cloud in the sky. It was 'scorching' even at that time, recalled one picket. 'All the Scottish boys had their tops off, it was that warm,' he said. A union official is being filmed. 'They tell me it's the biggie,' he says, as men cheerfully stream behind him. Birds are singing. Spirits are high. The official continues: 'It's about seven o'clock. A few of us are here already. I'm told there's going to be thousands. Let's have a look, see what happens.' Police seem to be directing the miners to a field. Some play football. Nearby villagers bring out trays of orange juice and iced water. But why were they being guided by police? 'I'd never seen this before,' recalled one. 'Normally they'd stop you on the motorway and make you walk, six or seven miles.' When miners get over a railway bridge and on to a hill overlooking the plant they see some of what is to come. Police officers are lined up in staggering numbers in front of the plant. Bill Frostwick, a miner from Durham, recalled: 'They were so well organised, man, it was a trap. And we fell for it, went straight in.' The number of police, some on horseback, some with dogs, is remarkable. But so too is the number of miners, in jeans, trainers, T-shirts and no shirts, looking down at a motionless thick black wall of police, sometimes 10-deep. There are an estimated 8,000 pickets facing 6,000 officers. A unit of riot police carrying long shields is ordered to move in front of the lines of uniformed police guarding the coking plant. Tensions are rising. 'It was something out of Gladiator or some Roman film,' said one. 'It was just beyond belief.' Empty wagons start arriving to pick up coke from the plant. Miners push towards the police line and police push back. Pickets who were there recall struggling to keep their feet on the ground or even breathe. The police line opens and officers on horses, carrying staves twice as long as truncheons, advance on the miners. Hundreds of miners can be seen running, trying to get out of the way before the police ride their horses back and the ranks close up. Stones are being thrown towards the police. There is footage of police in uniform trying to avoid missiles. There is a second horse charge. As they return, police applaud and bang their batons on their shields. A third charge. This time they are accompanied by snatch squads of police with batons and short shields, the first time they have been used on the UK mainland. A senior officer can be heard on film shouting into a megaphone: 'Bodies not heads!' Lesley Boulton, the subject of what has become one of the most famous photographs taken on the day, recalled: 'There were policemen on foot with short shields, laying about people with truncheons. I was numb with shock. This was violence far in excess of anything I'd ever witnessed.' Miners are being dragged out of the crowd and pulled to the ground. A TV news crew captures footage of Russell Broomhead being repeatedly bludgeoned over the head with a truncheon. About 2,000 miners are sent to another entrance to Orgreave where there is another large field. The gates open and aabout 30 coke-laden lorries begin to drive out. Pickets begin moving forward to try to stop the lorries. Arrests, along with more allegations of brutality, are made. The lorries get through. The police launch new attempts to clear the area of pickets. There are more horse charges and more snatch squads of officers with short batons. Miners can be seen running as fast as they can to get out of the field. Scargill sits dazed and injured after being hit, he says, by a police shield. 'All I know is that these bastards rushed in and this guy hit me on the back of my head with a shield and I was out.' The police deny that Scargill was hit by a shield. The trouble subsides. In two late-night sittings of Rotherham magistrates court, scores of arrested arrested miners are charged with criminal offences and given bail. The newspaper headlines and stories focus on Scargill being treated for minor injuries. 'Scargill in hospital after bloody battle of Orgreave,' is the headline on the lead story in the Times. 'Blackest day for pit strike violence,' is the headline in the Guardian, which reports that the battle lasted for 10 hours. The Labour MP Tony Benn said the scenes amounted 'in some cases to almost civil war proportions', the Guardian reports. Sources include the documentary film Strike: An Uncivil War, on Netflix, and Robert Gildea's book, Backbone of the Nation.

World's oldest KFC worker who first started frying chicken in 1978 dies after more than four decades serving MILLIONS of drumsticks
World's oldest KFC worker who first started frying chicken in 1978 dies after more than four decades serving MILLIONS of drumsticks

Daily Mail​

timean hour ago

  • Daily Mail​

World's oldest KFC worker who first started frying chicken in 1978 dies after more than four decades serving MILLIONS of drumsticks

The world's oldest KFC worker who first started frying chicken in 1978 has died after more than four decades serving millions of drumsticks. Pauline Richards has sadly passed away from cancer aged 74 after 47 years of dedicated service at the branch of the fast food chain in Taunton, Somerset. Known as 'Miss KFC', the grandmother worked nearly every possible role - including a cleaner, cashier, supervisor, manager and team leader - in her time at the firm. Ms Richards was famous in the town and has been hailed as 'one of its most loved residents' for her kindness, hard work, smiley conversation and dry humour. Local children called her 'Mum' and 'Nan' - while adults have fondly said she watched them grow up, seeing them through many a night out safely. She was even honoured with a Civic Award by the town's Mayor Councillor Vanessa Garside earlier this year for her 'outstanding long service' at the restaurant. Tributes have poured in for the award-winning fast food worker, who residents have all agreed will be 'truly missed', 'till we meet in the big KFC in the sky'. One customer wrote on Facebook: 'She was an absolute legend, simple as. A beautiful soul and will be sadly missed.' A spokesperson for Taunton Town Council said: 'All of us at Taunton Town Council are saddened to learn of the passing of one of Taunton's most loved residents, Pauline Richards, aka Miss KFC, the world's longest serving member of KFC staff and a friendly, well known face in our town. 'She was an excited and incredibly deserving recipient of one of our Civic Awards back in March this year. 'Our thoughts are with her family and all of those who knew and loved her.' Taunton restaurant the Spud Shack posted a tribute online, saying: 'We, as many of the town are mourning Pauline from KFC. 'She was the world's longest-serving KFC employee. She will be very missed by everyone in Taunton. 'Pauline was very well known in the town for her dry sense of humour when dealing with people who were a tad intoxicated!' Another customer commented: 'Sending massive condolences to her family, she was [a] one of a kind lady in there and those of us who grew up here were her kids and she saw most of our parents grow up and then us grow up and become parents ourselves, she will be truly missed.' One added: 'Very sad to hear the news of Pauline's passing, what a lovely lady, I feel I've know [her] all my life, you fed me many a night on the town, during my teens, twenties, thirties, forties and fifties. 'A lovely hard working lady, who will be sadly missed by many I'm sure, thank you Pauline, till we meet in the KFC in the sky.' Residents have suggested putting up a bench or plaque in a 'sunny spot' in the town, in memory of 'a true star of Taunton Town' and a 'local legend'. They said it would be a fitting tribute to the woman who 'brought a ray of sunshine' to everyone she met and 'made us all smile with her customer service banter'. Ms Richards, whose daughter and grandson have also worked at the branch, previously told of her love of the job. She said: 'When I go out for a break, children would shout over to me "Hello Miss KFC" and call me "Mum" and "Nan". 'Even on a Friday and Saturday night here, you get customers and some young boys start singing my name out and they are pleased to see me. 'When I'm not in, [the customers] are asking where I am. If I've been out, I get people asking why I'm not working tonight.' Ms Richards began working for KFC in the seventies as a cleaner to support her friend who had just started working at the former branch on East Reach. She went on to become a cashier and took customer's orders before helping to cook the food. The dedicated employee even worked her way up to becoming a manager for two-and-half years. Ms Richards stuck with the firm when the branch on East Reach closed and the town's KFC relocated to East Street. She said she always aims to 'help [customers] out to the best I can'. 'A lot of people say, "Don't ever leave"', she said. 'They say, "You know what you're talking about, you help me out, and you're always friendly". 'I always make sure I get people's orders right. I think that is a good thing for the customers.' She added: 'I love my job. 'Customers I have always spoken to and I have been friendly with and I have always tried to help as best I can and this job has always suited my life. 'I do want to say thank you to my customers that I have been friends with and I really appreciate it.' She explained her long service at the brand: 'KFC haven't done anything wrong for me and I think they are good to work for. 'I haven't had any complaints. If I ever had a problem about certain things, I spoke to my manager. 'I do like working with people here and I can't say I don't. We have a good little group here.' Ms Richards recalled how things had changed over the years: 'We cooked the hot wings in the pots in those days and breaded them all up and put the BBQ sauce on.' The beloved fast food worker also previously told The Sun: 'If you keep them happy, they are happy to come and see you. 'They come in and look for me and if I am on a break, they ask for me to come down and say hello.' KFC has previously said Pauline was 'an important role model in her local community and created a legacy the Colonel would be proud of'. Estimated to have served more than five million of the brand's famous chicken drumsticks, she has been its longest-serving worker for two years. Ms Richards earned the title after surpassing American employee Lorena Neely, who worked for the chain between 1976 and 2023.

‘After I retired, my drinking skyrocketed. Here's how I finally quit'
‘After I retired, my drinking skyrocketed. Here's how I finally quit'

Telegraph

time2 hours ago

  • Telegraph

‘After I retired, my drinking skyrocketed. Here's how I finally quit'

I was already drunk when I arrived at the dinner party. I could tell I was slurring and I caught some of my husband's friends exchanging looks. Shame washed over me but I reached out for a glass of wine and knocked it back. And then another. I tried to join in the conversation, aware I was talking too loudly and stumbling over my words. I think I kept saying the wrong thing. There were more looks; more whispers – or maybe it was my imagination. I vaguely recall falling over on the way home before stumbling into bed. The next day was tough. I had a hideous hangover and there were large parts of the night I couldn't remember at all. My husband Johnnie wasn't happy: he was clearly embarrassed by me. I had to face facts – my drinking had become a problem. My earliest memory of drinking is of sneaking some of my dad's homemade cider into boarding school and getting drunk, and very sick, at our harvest festival. My mum and stepdad drank quite heavily, every evening, and there were often arguments over dinner. I didn't drink that much growing up but it all changed when I moved to London. I was 24 and working in IT in the financial sector. It was a very male-oriented business environment and alcohol was de rigueur. We all drank at lunchtime and again after work: it was part of the team culture. We worked hard but played hard too. I often worked with a hangover; nobody would dream of taking the day off. However, there were boundaries: I never drank in the office. We would go to bars after work and, once they closed, we'd often go clubbing. I didn't have an off button so any excuse to go on elsewhere was good for me! It was fun and we would never have done it without alcohol. For the last 30 years of my working life, I worked as a project manager in a multinational finance corporation. I was mainly based in London but there were often work trips abroad – mainly to the USA, Singapore and Hong Kong. Expenses weren't really monitored so we ate and drank well, often staying up late and drinking at the hotel bar. You wouldn't have fitted in if you didn't drink. In fact, it never even occurred to me to cut down on drinking or that my drinking was a problem. I would have been laughed out of the office if I'd opted for a soft drink. I met Johnnie, when I was 24, in a bar. Our relationship was built around having fun and that always included alcohol. I didn't think about the health impacts at all. I was healthy, fit and active so why would I? I retired when I was 62. I loved it at first, filling my time with art, tennis, golf, piano, bridge, French classes – everything I had always wanted to do. But the structure had been removed, as had the boundaries, the scrutiny and the accountability. There were no longer 9am meetings to consider. I didn't have to worry about anyone smelling alcohol on my breath. I could start drinking earlier. When I was working, I'd drink a bottle of wine every evening. Once I retired, that swiftly escalated. Once I'd emptied that first bottle I'd often add a shot or two of vodka or gin, and occasionally I would open a second bottle of wine. It was becoming hard to get the hit I loved. The more you drink, the tougher it is to reach the old high. Evenings were difficult, particularly in the winter. I'd start watching the clock from around 4pm. I had a rule that I wouldn't open the wine until 6pm but that soon slipped back to 5pm. Johnnie had also retired but he wouldn't have his first drink until 6.30pm and some nights he didn't drink at all. We'd eat together but we slipped into watching TV in separate rooms. When he wasn't drinking he'd sometimes go up to bed early so I was on my own. The majority of evenings I wasn't even aware of being drunk. That dinner with Johnnie's friends was a major trigger. I saw myself through their eyes and it wasn't pretty. I might have thought I was the life and soul of the party but I'm sure I was actually the biggest bore. Things that are funny when you're young are just tedious in later life. It was more than just embarrassment. I saw my 98-year-old mother (a heavy drinker in her past) with dementia and macular degeneration – she is almost blind. It's hereditary but drink certainly speeds up the process. I could see the risks. Routine blood tests from the GP showed high cholesterol, liver and kidney issues. My drinking was affecting my health. Cutting down wasn't going to be enough, I realised: I had to stop altogether. But it's hard when alcohol is such a major part of your life. I needed help. I stumbled across sober coach Sandra Parker on social media. Her description of an active, fully functional person who drank too much was spot on for me. I joined her Just the Tonic programme and started one-to-one coaching with her, alongside listening to her online modules and joining group Zoom calls. I didn't go cold turkey on the booze at the start; I just cut it down. Then, after about six weeks, I went onto the 30-day challenge of no alcohol at all. There were many other retired professionals on the programme, some in their 70s and beyond. It was such a relief to realise I wasn't alone. Some were drinking more because they finally could. Others were bored after decades of purposeful work. Many were navigating loss or health scares. But we all had the same goal – to make the most of life without alcohol holding us back. That sense of shared purpose was a huge motivation – here were accomplished people who refused to let alcohol ruin their retirement. The programme totally changed my mindset. You cannot give up anything with just self-control: it wanes and it doesn't last. I needed to see alcohol for the illusion it is. It's marketed so brilliantly as a party drink; as a confidence-boosting wonder liquid. It's not. It's highly addictive and dangerous and we all need to be aware of that and be warned of its consequences. We learnt the facts about what alcohol actually does to our brain and our body – sleep, health, looks. Sandra taught me not to blame myself – it's not a personal weakness or faulty gene; it's the addictive nature of alcohol doing exactly what it's designed to do. She worked on changing the desire itself. Instead of reaching for that glass of wine I have learnt to ask: 'What do I actually need right now?' Usually it's to feel relaxed, to feel rewarded or to connect. Then you find something that really delivers – without the 3am wake-up and morning regret. I journal every day and post on the programme's WhatsApp group most days: the support from others is huge and the accountability really helps. I've now progressed into the follow-up programme, and still have coaching. Within a couple of months of giving up alcohol, my blood tests showed the difference – my liver, kidneys and cholesterol levels were all normal. These days I wake up clear-headed at around 6am and journal and meditate. I exercise five times a week and my golf and tennis have improved – a nice bonus. I don't fear dinners or parties anymore – I remember every conversation and can drive home. I drink alcohol-free lager or prosecco when I'm out but I'm perfectly happy with water at home. My friends are supportive on the whole and any that aren't I just don't see so much. I would never want to be judgmental and wouldn't ever suggest anyone drink less – this alcohol-free route is purely for me. My family has definitely noticed a huge difference. I can't believe how much better my relationship with my husband is without alcohol. He's 100 per cent supportive and is drinking less himself. Our daughters (33 and 30) are delighted. They never spoke about my drinking but I knew they hated it. They always clocked when I'd had even one drink and would leave the kitchen when I was drinking. Now we all hang out together and chat. They're both so supportive and we have a much better, more present and open relationship. I have so much more energy during the day now and I'm so much happier, so much more relaxed without alcohol. I've become someone who is simply not bothered about alcohol, rather than someone who's constantly resisting drinking: it's true freedom. I want to live my retirement, not exist in it. I am 70 this year – onto another chapter of my life. I intend to make it one of the best in so many ways. These are the practices that I found really helpful: Journal daily – it really helps. I also found listening to Sandra's modules incredibly motivating. Remind yourself that the first 20 minutes after drinking alcohol is the only time you actually feel good from it. After that you're chasing a feeling that's already gone. All those hours nursing a bottle of wine make no sense. Make sure you're accountable, whether that's within a group or with friends and/or family. Tell people what you're doing – you'll be amazed how supportive most will be. Be kind to yourself. This isn't about beating yourself up: it's a journey to a more pleasurable and healthy life. Indulge yourself with treats occasionally – jewellery, holidays, food treats, massage. Realising just how much money I was saving was a huge incentive for me.

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