Latest news with #JohnShipton
Sydney Morning Herald
26-06-2025
- Politics
- Sydney Morning Herald
What happened to my brother, Julian Assange, once felt extraordinary. Today it feels like the norm
The London rain was falling sideways as we walked from Plumstead Station to Belmarsh Prison. My father, John Shipton, had his collar turned up against the wind, but it was no use – we were soaked by the time we reached the gate. Beside us was journalist John Pilger, he moved a bit slower, his presence a quiet anchor in the storm. It was a pilgrimage we would make again and again over the next five years. But this was the first time. We were going to see my brother, Julian Assange. Inside the walls of that maximum-security prison, he was being held in solitary confinement – not for violent crime, but for daring to publish the truth. On the train ride back, still drenched, still angry, we knew we had to do more than visit. Pilger believed there was still a chance the British courts might block Julian's extradition. But we couldn't rely on legal processes alone. We needed a movement. On that dark day, the plan began to take shape. Legal action, yes – but also a broad, public campaign. My dad and Stella Assange would take Julian's case to Europe's parliaments and streets. We would build a grassroots network, organise street protests, mobilise supporters, and begin a media offensive. We needed a film to counter the years of smears. Every step would need funding, persistence, and people. That was the beginning. A small conversation on a wet train ride that became our mission. What we discovered along the way was this: when someone speaks truth to power, the infrastructure to protect them doesn't exist. Governments and institutions often fall silent. Legal defences are slow, expensive, and easily outmatched. Media outlets are inconsistent allies. And too often, the public is left watching from the sidelines, unsure how to help. So we built the response ourselves. What began as a campaign for one man became something bigger – a movement shaped by experience, driven by necessity. We took the lessons, tools and networks we forged during Julian's fight and turned them into something lasting: an organisation dedicated to protecting those courageous enough to speak out. Because what happened to Julian wasn't just a tragedy. It was a template for those who wish to suppress dissent on a global scale. Loading Now, that warning has become impossible to ignore. The silencing of those who seek to hold power to account has picked up a blistering pace. We've watched it unfold before our eyes with the deaths of more than 185 journalists in Gaza according to the Committee to Protect Journalists. In the United States, those voicing opposition are facing the threat of deportation to hellish prison conditions in El Salvador. Journalists are being stopped and questioned at the border and in some cases turned away. And in the past 24 hours, President Donald Trump's criticism of CNN and other outlets over reports on US strikes on Iran's nuclear program is creating a climate that discourages open dialogue and may limit the public's access to critical reporting. The same forces that came after Julian are now moving in broad daylight. These are not isolated incidents. They are signals – warnings meant to suppress speech, punish resistance, and make people afraid to resist. If what happened to Julian once felt extraordinary, today it feels like the norm.
The Age
26-06-2025
- Politics
- The Age
What happened to my brother, Julian Assange, once felt extraordinary. Today it feels like the norm
The London rain was falling sideways as we walked from Plumstead Station to Belmarsh Prison. My father, John Shipton, had his collar turned up against the wind, but it was no use – we were soaked by the time we reached the gate. Beside us was journalist John Pilger, he moved a bit slower, his presence a quiet anchor in the storm. It was a pilgrimage we would make again and again over the next five years. But this was the first time. We were going to see my brother, Julian Assange. Inside the walls of that maximum-security prison, he was being held in solitary confinement – not for violent crime, but for daring to publish the truth. On the train ride back, still drenched, still angry, we knew we had to do more than visit. Pilger believed there was still a chance the British courts might block Julian's extradition. But we couldn't rely on legal processes alone. We needed a movement. On that dark day, the plan began to take shape. Legal action, yes – but also a broad, public campaign. My dad and Stella Assange would take Julian's case to Europe's parliaments and streets. We would build a grassroots network, organise street protests, mobilise supporters, and begin a media offensive. We needed a film to counter the years of smears. Every step would need funding, persistence, and people. That was the beginning. A small conversation on a wet train ride that became our mission. What we discovered along the way was this: when someone speaks truth to power, the infrastructure to protect them doesn't exist. Governments and institutions often fall silent. Legal defences are slow, expensive, and easily outmatched. Media outlets are inconsistent allies. And too often, the public is left watching from the sidelines, unsure how to help. So we built the response ourselves. What began as a campaign for one man became something bigger – a movement shaped by experience, driven by necessity. We took the lessons, tools and networks we forged during Julian's fight and turned them into something lasting: an organisation dedicated to protecting those courageous enough to speak out. Because what happened to Julian wasn't just a tragedy. It was a template for those who wish to suppress dissent on a global scale. Loading Now, that warning has become impossible to ignore. The silencing of those who seek to hold power to account has picked up a blistering pace. We've watched it unfold before our eyes with the deaths of more than 185 journalists in Gaza according to the Committee to Protect Journalists. In the United States, those voicing opposition are facing the threat of deportation to hellish prison conditions in El Salvador. Journalists are being stopped and questioned at the border and in some cases turned away. And in the past 24 hours, President Donald Trump's criticism of CNN and other outlets over reports on US strikes on Iran's nuclear program is creating a climate that discourages open dialogue and may limit the public's access to critical reporting. The same forces that came after Julian are now moving in broad daylight. These are not isolated incidents. They are signals – warnings meant to suppress speech, punish resistance, and make people afraid to resist. If what happened to Julian once felt extraordinary, today it feels like the norm.
Daily Mail
22-05-2025
- General
- Daily Mail
If 70 is the new 53, what does that mean for your money and retirement? ANDREW OXLADE
At 51, there are mornings when I feel closer to 70. I therefore couldn't help feeling slight amusement to read that 70 is apparently the new 53. Research cited in the IMF's World Economic Outlook, based on samples in 41 countries, suggested the average 70-year-old in 2022 had the same cognitive ability as a 53-year-old in 2000. It is a remarkable improvement for such a short period. The report, published last month, suggested such improvements mean those employed at 70 see a 30 per cent uplift in earnings. John Shipton is an extreme and inspiring example of embracing later life work. At 93, he loves his job at Waitrose in Exeter. He joined at 80 and was immediately put on the tills, a decision he thought 'a bit remarkable'. Today, customers queue for a chance to be served by him. It's an inspiring example of finding purpose beyond our usual working lives. Not everyone can do it. Our careers can end due to ill health, or we may struggle to find the right work - the best fit - to work on. But the figures suggest that despite the dramatic increase in later life acuity, there is no mass inclination to work longer. Men exit the workforce at 65.3, only a smidgen higher than 63.3 in 2000, according to the Office for National Statistics. For women it has risen from 61.2 years to 64.5. But work can give purpose and it can offer a social network. The evidence shows these are health and life-giving factors - maintaining them can help us live longer and live well. I wrote about this on This is Money last summer. I shared my 37-year plan for surviving the 100-year life, and then 'CHILL' - my 'movement' to encourage people to relax about retiring early and find a career that gives them longevity. The acronym - Career Happiness Inspires Longer Lives - prompted some angry responses from the FIRE movement (who advocate obsessive saving to get out of the rat race). The FIRE group on Reddit even invented a spicy new acronym for me, which can't be repeated here. But these trends are not going away. With '70 the new 53', it may be time for a rethink, at any age. Age 25? Start your 'optionality fund' (and thinking) In Antifragile, financial author Nassim Taleb argues that a focus on giving yourself options allows you to outperform the average in an unpredictable world. Such optionality, I argue, can also extend your working live. Your life will, after all, likely be a long life. One in five girls born today can expect to live to 100. For 25-year-olds, average life expectancy is now 85 for men or 88 for women. They may well work to 70 or later. Even for me at 51, the expectation is 84, according to the ONS calculator. Live long and prosper: People may need to accept that longer lives mean more working years Five decades of work warrants a different approach - a longevity plan. This might include a career break, perhaps to travel. That may help you maintain your appetite and stamina to work longer. Or you could plan in a break to hone your work skills or to retrain - to enable a rotation to a career you've always wanted. It could be set up as a freelancer or to become a business founder. It could even merely to spend an extended period to focus on your family - children, parents or even grandparents. Employers are more inclined to support sabbaticals than a generation ago, but not all can do this. And sabbaticals are rarely paid. An 'optionality fund' can help make these dreams a possibility. Such a fund can sit aside from retirement savings. Consider a 25-year-old who puts aside £200 a month, into an Isa (the maximum allowance is a much bigger £20,000 a year). By age 45, it would have grown to £72,216, based on 5 per cent annual returns, with a 1.2 per cent charge incorporated, our sums show. The outcomes can be quite different - at a low growth rate of 3 per cent it would grow to £52,589 and at high return of 8 per cent it would be £100,922. These are powerful amounts. A fund of £72,000 opens up choice - it buys optionality. But the optionality mindset is as important the money. And it can start at any age, but the earlier the better - a conscious focus on developing the right skills can take you to a more fulfilling career. Taleb talks about a barbell strategy, keeping a core of safe work alongside more speculative punts. He cites the example of a lecturer earning a stable income in the day job but dedicating time to speculative ventures like writing books, consulting, or small-scale investing in start-ups. One of these might take off. For longevity, all the better if these areas match your passions. Taleb urges a focus on versatile, generalist skills, such as learning coding basics rather than narrow specialisations, such as becoming expert in a single software type. He also recommends networking without immediate return. Attend community events, informal dinners, or industry meetups without specific objectives. They may lead to unexpected opportunities at a later stage. This is about money - and thinking - that can buy you a different sort of freedom to the conventional aim of full stop retirement. I follow a Facebook group called 'The Epic Retirement Club'. Its members celebrate the merits of retirement, often early. But many tell the other side - a need to return to the fulfilment of some work. Which will you be? Sticking with the job will get easier Mastering optionality can unlock a new career. But perhaps you've already found one you love. Fortunately, it is becoming easier to remain in work. The Default Retirement Age was removed in 2012, banning compulsory retirement. More recently, flexible working is becoming more common. Working fewer days can help delay full retirement. Incidentally, this can also move the dial on your pension sums. If you thought you needed £500,000 to retire at 65, then working one day a week would mean you'd need a fifth less - £400,000. It's a crude assumption but it makes a point. Further policies may follow to encourage later life work - the government needs to undo an alarming trend. In the 1970s, 42 per cent of our lives was spent in economic activity, according to the International Longevity Centre, where I serve as a trustee. The most recent figures show it had dwindled to 38.5 per cent, despite decades of women increasing paid employment. If people aged 50 to 64 worked in the same proportions as those aged 35 to 49, GDP would grow by more than 5 per cent. ILC research also suggests the UK could face a shortfall of 2.6 million workers by 2030. More carrots could be waved at the legions of 60 and 70-somethings to carry on working and apply that retained cognitive ability. But governments tend to combine sticks with carrots… Will the pension age have to rise by more? Raising state pension ages is unpopular but it is a lever with a win-win effect for public finances and the economy. Costs are reduced and older people are more likely to continue working. The state pension age is 66 for both men and women and will steadily rise to 68 by 2044-46, affecting those born after April 1977. However, the plans may change. The timing of the rise to 68 is due to be looked at by an independent review within the next year. It will come back with recommendations that the government accepts or rejects. The last review in 2022 recommended an increase to 68 in 2041-43 and mooted a rise to 69 in 2046-48. An earlier review suggested 68 by 2037-39. The age you can access your own work and private pensions is also rising. It will increase from 55 to 57 in 2028, affecting anyone born on or after 6 April 1973. This coincides with the state pension increase to 67 and, in theory, the private pension age will then track 10 years below the state pension. This is another stick available to policymakers. Optionality can help future-proof you from the stick of rising pension ages. And it is always good to have options, as you don't know how you will feel about life and work in the future. Our Waitrose worker John Shipton lost his wife four years ago and his job has been a help and a comfort. He sums up the CHILL approach better than I can: 'It's the pleasure of being with other people, the pleasure of working. Interactions with other people are so important in your life. It stops you going completely bananas.'
BBC News
16-05-2025
- Business
- BBC News
Devon Waitrose worker, 94, has no plans to retire
A man who started a job at Waitrose at the age of 80 is still working there aged 94 - and said he has no plans to Shipton has been described as a "local legend" and a "national treasure" by colleagues at the Exeter branch of the said he had been asked many times about the prospect of retirement but had no plans to give up."At first I thought I would probably stop at 95, but the most important thing is that I can still climb the stairs to the canteen because that is vital," he said. Mr Shipton has had many jobs in his long working life. He served in the army before working in electronics, has been a cabinet maker, restored antique furniture, maintained swimming pools and programmed he said his job at Waitrose did not feel like work."I come here to play with my customers; the relationships with the customers are beautiful," said Mr McConnachie, deputy branch manager for Waitrose, Exeter, said Mr Shipton was brilliant with all customers: "Young and old, he will talk to anyone; he is sort of a national treasure for us in the branch."Customer Dana added: "John is an amazing man, he teaches us all what it is to be human."John said the secret to a good life was having fun and working in a job you said: "You just have to find what you are passionate about, and do that".
Daily Mail
01-05-2025
- Business
- Daily Mail
I'm 93 and I still work on the tills at Waitrose - they took me on when I was 80 and it stops me going bananas
He may be 93 but that's not stopping John Shipton from doing what he loves most: chatting to customers and keeping busy on the tills at Waitrose. The sprightly nonagenarian has become something of a local legend in Exeter, Devon, where shoppers often queue just to be served by him. John, who started at the branch when it opened in 2011, was offered the job at the age of 80 - something he still finds 'a bit remarkable'. Now, 13 years on, he's still going strong. 'Probably half of my customers are regulars, I would think, maybe even more than half,' John told The Times during one of his rare mornings off. 'I do have a strange reputation in that they tend to queue up at my till.' And it's no wonder. John's warmth and wisdom have turned him into a firm favourite among locals, many of whom come in just for a natter. After a career in electronics and later working for Exeter City Council, John didn't settle into retirement quietly. At 74, he jumped back into the workforce at Sainsbury's before making the move to Waitrose six years later. He said: 'They took me on when I was 80, which I thought was a bit remarkable.' For John, the job is more than just work — it's a lifeline. '[Working] enables me to chat to people every day,' he said, 'you've got lovely regular customers who will come and see you, sometimes twice a week, and you get to know them and their family, you get to know their problems.' He's even been known to offer a comforting hug if someone's had a loss. 'It's the pleasure of being with other people, the pleasure of working. Interactions with other people are so important in your life. It stops you going completely bananas.' When his beloved wife Julia Marise passed away four years ago, John admitted he was 'at a loss'. But his life changed when he welcomed Ukrainian refugees Oksana and her teenage son Illia into his home. The trio have formed a heartwarming family unit - even going on holiday together. 'They're exceptionally good to me,' he said. 'I don't think I've cooked and washed up more than three times in the last three years. They look after me, and I look after them.' And it's not just his adopted family who value him. Waitrose clearly knows a gem when they see one. 'Waitrose actually looks after you. They're an amazing company to work for,' John said. When he broke his hip gardening, they paid him in full for the entire three months he took to recover. Even the directors stay in touch. 'They're lovely people. They're just lovely people. I write to directors, and I had a director come and visit me the other day.' Branch manager Nick Davis couldn't agree more: 'John is an incredible person, an exemplary partner, brilliant with customers, and we are very proud to have him as part of the team.'
