Latest news with #CommunityTrust
BBC News
28-07-2025
- Health
- BBC News
Whitehaven plans for mental health hub at former bank
Plans have been submitted to create a 24/7 mental health hub in a former bank building, as part of an NHS pilot Community Trust Limited has applied for permission to turn the former Halifax branch on King Street, Whitehaven, into the Hope Haven comes after NHS England announced the pilot to expand mental health services in the area and bring different services under one roof."The hub will provide drop-in support, 1:1 consultations, group therapy and sessions focused on physical health, fitness, health promotion and shared learning," planning documents submitted to Cumberland Council said. Various organisations would work from the hub including Cumbria, Northumberland Tyne and Wear NHS Foundation Trust, mental health charities and organisations that can provide housing and employment Halifax branch shut in 2024 and although the building is not listed it sits within the Whitehaven town centre conservation documents said minimal alterations would be made to the outside of the building and any work would respect its "architectural character and historic value"."The proposed use seeks to revitalise the building, currently vacant and in a state of decline," they added. Follow BBC Cumbria on X, Facebook, Nextdoor and Instagram.
The National
12-07-2025
- Health
- The National
How my son's illness showed me football's accessibility gaps
There are certain things you think will never happen to you, or your family. Until they do. It was just before the Covid pandemic really took hold. The whole world, it seemed, felt uncertain, but for us, the threat of the virus was a secondary concern. Our eldest son was eight at the time. He was football daft. He went to watch his favourite team, Motherwell, every chance he got. As I would usually be working on matchdays, he would go along to Fir Park and away from home often too with his Grandad and a squad of his pals from school. He played for the club's Community Trust team and was still dining out on recently captaining his side to a last-gasp comeback win. He lived for it. One day, he complained of a painful sensation down both arms that he likened to 'electric shocks'. He came running out of the bathroom one morning soon after and suddenly went down like he had been picked off by some distant, crack sniper. (Image: Graeme McGarry) His doctor was puzzled. Growing pains, perhaps? No. Eventually, the symptoms were too severe for that. He had recently bumped his head on the pavement while playing football at his Gran's, could that be the cause? Several visits to the hospital and CT scans revealed nothing amiss. The shocks worsened and their duration lengthened, to the point he could no longer bear the pain, nor could we bear to witness his distress. He began to lose feeling down his right arm, and was struggling to drag his right leg behind him. A first socially distanced trip to Tesco to stock up on toilet paper ended with us having to abort the mission and carry him back to the car in tears. His, less well hidden than mine. He was admitted to Wishaw General Hospital. We spent three nights there, the only ones on an otherwise deserted ward, as his condition slowly worsened. A neurologist came to see him on the Friday and immediately instructed us to drive to Glasgow's Queen Elizabeth University Hospital for an MRI. He walked in the front door, albeit with something of a struggle. When he would eventually leave, many months later, he would do so in a wheelchair. At last, though, and at least, we had an answer. Jack was suffering from a Spinal Arteriovenous Malformation, an incredibly rare condition to present in children where blood vessels coil around the spinal cord and restrict communication from the brain to the rest of the body. The surgeons could attempt to 'fix' it, or at least limit the damage, with an angiogram, but that couldn't be performed until the Tuesday due to weekend staff shortages. Still, as long as the blood vessels didn't burst in the intervening period (a million to one shot, one consultant said) then the prognosis wasn't all that bad, all things considered. (Image: Graeme McGarry) There would be rehab, particularly for his right hand, which had all but ceased to function by this stage, but the prospect of him being unable to walk still seemed a relatively distant one. Or maybe that's just what we wanted to believe. On the Sunday morning, the blood vessels burst. He awoke with no feeling from the neck down. The room became a blur of doctors and nurses in full PPE gear. He was whipped away for an urgent CT scan. Papers had to be signed in case they had to operate. Perhaps to his brain. In a cramped room with a small table at its centre, a box of tissues placed on top, the gravity of the situation was spelled out in no uncertain terms. Luck, as we found, is a subjective notion. Having described the situation above, you may wonder how any parent, any child, finding themselves suddenly in the middle of it could be described as fortunate. But we were indeed lucky. The bleed had travelled down the spinal cord, not up towards the brain. The lesser of two unimaginable evils, yes, but in such a situation, you take what you can get. This would mean an operation of at least eight hours. Further procedures. Gruelling rehab. Months, and indeed, years of uncertainty over his future. Still, there are no clear answers to how that will look. In the immediate aftermath, we had no way of addressing the concerns on his mind, of which, there were chiefly two. Will I play football again? Will I be able to go to the football with my mates again? Time will tell, pal. What else could be said? But in time, we were able at least to answer one of those questions. As news of his illness spread, Motherwell reached out. An area would be reserved for him not in the disabled shelter at the far end of the Main Stand away from his friends, but in the Davie Cooper Stand, in amongst them, where he had always watched his team. As a family, we will be eternally grateful to the club, and in particular, to stadium manager Robert Park, for making this possible. I can't begin to adequately explain what that meant to him in that moment, and what it has meant since. (Image: Graeme McGarry) Again, we were lucky. Others in similar situations may not be, though, and that is why I am telling this story here, and why Herald Sport is running this campaign on disabled facilities in Scottish stadiums today. We want to highlight the great work that is going on in Scottish football, the admirable investment from many clubs in this area, and above all, the unsung heroes like Robert, or Alexis Dobbin at Celtic, or John Speirs at Rangers and the countless others who go above and beyond to make going to the match as inclusive an experience as possible. However, we also want to highlight areas where improvements could be made. As I said, and this goes for me too, it is only really when you or a loved one is thrust into such a situation that you give these issues much of a second thought. It is only now, as my son drags me to grounds up and down the country, that I can truly appreciate the hurdles that disabled football fans face just to watch their team. Unfailingly, staff bend over backwards. But the standard of facilities is inconsistent from ground to ground, and often are far from acceptable, whether that is due to a lack of protection from the elements, poor sight lines, or inadequate toilet facilities. In most cases, particularly at away grounds, there is no choice of where to sit. You take what you get, whether that is a shelter down the front far away from the rest of the support, or even in amongst opposition fans. Often, disabled fans have no access to food kiosks. Helpful staff at most venues take orders and deliver refreshments to the disabled section at half time, but there is no opportunity to peruse the menu, or independently go for something to eat or drink whenever you might actually feel like it. Even simple things like buying tickets is a more complicated process than it would be for your average fan, with online purchasing almost always unavailable. Emails have to be sent, phone calls have to be made. Some of these issues are smaller than others, but they all add up to a feeling that disabled supporters are different, and separate from the rest of the crowd. Hopefully, these articles will help to share best practice between clubs, highlight areas where they can improve, where they may be able to source financial help to do so, and help deliver a more inclusive experience that makes every supporter feel a part of their fanbase and their community. We were lucky. But can we establish a standard, so that a disabled fan's experience doesn't come down to fortune, or the good grace of a club employee? Take it from someone who sees what it means - it would absolutely be worth it.
The Herald Scotland
12-07-2025
- Health
- The Herald Scotland
How my son's illness showed me football's accessibility gaps
There are certain things you think will never happen to you, or your family. Until they do. It was just before the Covid pandemic really took hold. The whole world, it seemed, felt uncertain, but for us, the threat of the virus was a secondary concern. Our eldest son was eight at the time. He was football daft. He went to watch his favourite team, Motherwell, every chance he got. As I would usually be working on matchdays, he would go along to Fir Park and away from home often too with his Grandad and a squad of his pals from school. He played for the club's Community Trust team and was still dining out on recently captaining his side to a last-gasp comeback win. He lived for it. One day, he complained of a painful sensation down both arms that he likened to 'electric shocks'. He came running out of the bathroom one morning soon after and suddenly went down like he had been picked off by some distant, crack sniper. (Image: Graeme McGarry) His doctor was puzzled. Growing pains, perhaps? No. Eventually, the symptoms were too severe for that. He had recently bumped his head on the pavement while playing football at his Gran's, could that be the cause? Several visits to the hospital and CT scans revealed nothing amiss. The shocks worsened and their duration lengthened, to the point he could no longer bear the pain, nor could we bear to witness his distress. He began to lose feeling down his right arm, and was struggling to drag his right leg behind him. A first socially distanced trip to Tesco to stock up on toilet paper ended with us having to abort the mission and carry him back to the car in tears. His, less well hidden than mine. He was admitted to Wishaw General Hospital. We spent three nights there, the only ones on an otherwise deserted ward, as his condition slowly worsened. A neurologist came to see him on the Friday and immediately instructed us to drive to Glasgow's Queen Elizabeth University Hospital for an MRI. He walked in the front door, albeit with something of a struggle. When he would eventually leave, many months later, he would do so in a wheelchair. At last, though, and at least, we had an answer. Jack was suffering from a Spinal Arteriovenous Malformation, an incredibly rare condition to present in children where blood vessels coil around the spinal cord and restrict communication from the brain to the rest of the body. The surgeons could attempt to 'fix' it, or at least limit the damage, with an angiogram, but that couldn't be performed until the Tuesday due to weekend staff shortages. Still, as long as the blood vessels didn't burst in the intervening period (a million to one shot, one consultant said) then the prognosis wasn't all that bad, all things considered. (Image: Graeme McGarry) There would be rehab, particularly for his right hand, which had all but ceased to function by this stage, but the prospect of him being unable to walk still seemed a relatively distant one. Or maybe that's just what we wanted to believe. On the Sunday morning, the blood vessels burst. He awoke with no feeling from the neck down. The room became a blur of doctors and nurses in full PPE gear. He was whipped away for an urgent CT scan. Papers had to be signed in case they had to operate. Perhaps to his brain. In a cramped room with a small table at its centre, a box of tissues placed on top, the gravity of the situation was spelled out in no uncertain terms. Luck, as we found, is a subjective notion. Having described the situation above, you may wonder how any parent, any child, finding themselves suddenly in the middle of it could be described as fortunate. But we were indeed lucky. The bleed had travelled down the spinal cord, not up towards the brain. The lesser of two unimaginable evils, yes, but in such a situation, you take what you can get. This would mean an operation of at least eight hours. Further procedures. Gruelling rehab. Months, and indeed, years of uncertainty over his future. Still, there are no clear answers to how that will look. In the immediate aftermath, we had no way of addressing the concerns on his mind, of which, there were chiefly two. Will I play football again? Will I be able to go to the football with my mates again? Time will tell, pal. What else could be said? But in time, we were able at least to answer one of those questions. As news of his illness spread, Motherwell reached out. An area would be reserved for him not in the disabled shelter at the far end of the Main Stand away from his friends, but in the Davie Cooper Stand, in amongst them, where he had always watched his team. As a family, we will be eternally grateful to the club, and in particular, to stadium manager Robert Park, for making this possible. I can't begin to adequately explain what that meant to him in that moment, and what it has meant since. (Image: Graeme McGarry) Again, we were lucky. Others in similar situations may not be, though, and that is why I am telling this story here, and why Herald Sport is running this campaign on disabled facilities in Scottish stadiums today. We want to highlight the great work that is going on in Scottish football, the admirable investment from many clubs in this area, and above all, the unsung heroes like Robert, or Alexis Dobbin at Celtic, or John Speirs at Rangers and the countless others who go above and beyond to make going to the match as inclusive an experience as possible. However, we also want to highlight areas where improvements could be made. As I said, and this goes for me too, it is only really when you or a loved one is thrust into such a situation that you give these issues much of a second thought. It is only now, as my son drags me to grounds up and down the country, that I can truly appreciate the hurdles that disabled football fans face just to watch their team. Unfailingly, staff bend over backwards. But the standard of facilities is inconsistent from ground to ground, and often are far from acceptable, whether that is due to a lack of protection from the elements, poor sight lines, or inadequate toilet facilities. In most cases, particularly at away grounds, there is no choice of where to sit. You take what you get, whether that is a shelter down the front far away from the rest of the support, or even in amongst opposition fans. Often, disabled fans have no access to food kiosks. Helpful staff at most venues take orders and deliver refreshments to the disabled section at half time, but there is no opportunity to peruse the menu, or independently go for something to eat or drink whenever you might actually feel like it. Even simple things like buying tickets is a more complicated process than it would be for your average fan, with online purchasing almost always unavailable. Emails have to be sent, phone calls have to be made. Some of these issues are smaller than others, but they all add up to a feeling that disabled supporters are different, and separate from the rest of the crowd. Hopefully, these articles will help to share best practice between clubs, highlight areas where they can improve, where they may be able to source financial help to do so, and help deliver a more inclusive experience that makes every supporter feel a part of their fanbase and their community. We were lucky. But can we establish a standard, so that a disabled fan's experience doesn't come down to fortune, or the good grace of a club employee? Take it from someone who sees what it means - it would absolutely be worth it.
Yahoo
21-05-2025
- Sport
- Yahoo
Reading Women open applications for 'expressions of interest' in joining club
Women and girls across Reading have been invited to apply to play for the club next season. A club steeped in history, regulars in the Women's Super League for over a decade under the management of Kelly Cousins, the side are now in the fifth tier (Southern Region Women's Football League Premier Division.) This is under the control of the Community Trust, who stepped up after Dai Yongge refused to fund the women's side. No longer playing out of Reading, the Women play at Slough Town's Arbour Park. Last season Pedro Bruno's side finished eighth out of 10, winning four of their 18 matches. Lucy Bolitho won Player of the Season and received her award on the pitch at the SCL Stadium on the final day of the League One season. If you wish to express an interest in playing, fill in this form attached where you must disclose your current club, previous playing experience and injury history. The future could be exciting though with news of Rob Couhig's takeover. Speaking of his plans, the former Wycombe Wanderers chief said: "We're going to want to establish a relationship with the women's team to see what we can do within the economic confines of our overall remit to help them. I want to work with the Trust to see what I can do to assist them." Wycombe Wanderers Ladies finished second in the same division as Reading last season.
National Post
09-05-2025
- Politics
- National Post
Terry Newman: RCMP puts land, African Nova Scotian acknowledgements before missing kids
Article content This has likely spread to the RCMP due to the initiative's fifth stated action to: 'Prioritize advancing the work of Dalhousie's Diversity and Inclusiveness Strategy, Indigenous Strategy, African Nova Scotian Strategy, and actions that reflect Dalhousie's commitment to an anti-racist culture.' Article content Now, putting the valid distinctness, histories, legacies, and contributions of African Nova Scotians aside for the moment, what use did the RCMP see in making this announcement? They're obviously not looking to be recognized as one of the world's leading universities. Article content Is the RCMP in Nova Scotia insecure about past and present treatment of African Nova Scotians? If that's the reason, say so. Deliver a clear, public apology for each and every wrongdoing, not at a press conference scheduled for an update on missing kids, but at an event tailored specifically to that purpose. Then, move past it. Change policies that may have led to such wrongdoings. If forgiveness is what the Nova Scotia RCMP seeks from African Nova Scotians, then ask for it. Article content Was it the RCMP's attempt to show African Nova Scotians that they can trust them? Well, there are better ways to do that, too. They can begin by stating outright that they are, in fact, seeking to earn their trust. They could become a more regular and warm presence at community festivals and participate in youth initiatives. If you want a community's trust, earn it with actions. Article content Article content Just don't blow smoke up their backsides by delivering the vaguest of possible statements about their distinctness, histories, legacies, and contributions to the enrichment of the province. They know what they are. Article content Like the land acknowledgment which preceded it, this was a shallow ritual. Both were out of place in the context of an update on a search for missing children. Neither lead to any real-world effects, other than the delay of timely information being communicated to the public and a checkmark on some public relations expert's checklist. Article content Even from the most well-meaning of orators, acknowledgments like these are largely a form of self-flagellation for actual or perceived wrongs. They are an attempt for the speaker and/or those in attendance to cast off feelings of guilt in a pseudo-religious ceremonial way. Their underlying purpose is to deflect blame by avoiding direct specific apologies and/or actual efforts needed to put issues to rest. They do not solve cultural problems. Instead, they ensure their persistence by enshrining them as if they were scripture, behaving as if a particular groups' unfortunate conditions, stated or implied, will be a constant, continuing, and necessary feature of our society. Article content And where will these declarations end? Does the Nova Scotia RCMP have a hierarchy of groups it believes the public should be acknowledging? Which group is next? Will they be trickling them out one at a time? How do they make these decisions about groups and their contributions to the province? Clearly, they are no longer based solely on length of time spent in Canada. If so, Acadians — who were literally ethnically cleansed from Acadie in 1755 — would have been mentioned before African Nova Scotians. Or are they no longer 'distinct' enough, whatever that means? Will future acknowledgment choices be added based on the relationship between the RCMP and particular groups they police? How long can we expect future RCMP updates on missing kids to take, by the time they get to the end of their acknowledgments list? Article content It's not clear why such acknowledgments exist, at all, before RCMP updates. One thing is for sure — they certainly should not be reciting them in order to deflect blame, or to avoid apologies or the exertion of the genuine efforts required to actually engage with these groups, which they clearly see as disadvantaged, even if they do not admit it outright and, instead, state the exact opposite. Article content
