CategoriesLegalHealthThought of The Day

The “D” Word

This April Fool’s Day it is fitting to write that I have become….. disabled. There, I have written it.

But I cannot easily say this out loud.

How can I – Andrew Gray – have become disabled? I’ve run two marathons; completed the national Three Peak Challenge; and played competitive football until this time last year. My high fitness levels were always a source of pride. I can tell you how many goals I scored in each competitive season, and for pleasure, I often play back some of the goals in my head. Those were good times.

But this issue – this definition of “disability” – has gnawed away at me over the last few months. In my head, I knew that I needed to write down my thoughts, for in writing I usually find clarity, but I had no prompt. That is, until just now.

Minutes ago, I finished a telephone call with a very good friend, one whom I have played football with countless times. He kindly enquired about how I was doing, without making a big deal about it (which I much prefer). Replying, I struggled to say: “I have fluoroquinolone associated disability. There is nothing that the doctors can do for me.” Ouch. I couldn’t fully finish the sentence. It’s the “D” word which bothers me most.

Perhaps, in my head, disabled people were, I thought, born that way, and have known nothing else. Or, perhaps I thought, that such unfortunate people had suffered a freak accident, leading to their predicament. Of course, I knew that people often become disabled over time – as has happened to me – because I have represented so many of them as their lawyer. Yet, subconsciously, I must have thought that it couldn’t possibly have happened to me. To me! I was fit and able.

In the darkest recesses of my head, “disability” must still have conjured up images of a wheelchair-bound people, even though the legal definition of disability, as set out in section 6 of The Equality Act 2010, has been hardwired into my brain ever since I represented disabled people pursuing disability discrimination claims. It seems that what I knew as a lawyer somehow didn’t connect with what I thought, at a deep, flawed and irrational level.

And yet, possibly, the nomenclature – the terminology, the definition of “disabled” – perhaps is unhelpful. Or just unhelpful to me. In my blog profile, I list all the things that I am, to an outsider, before finishing that “I hate labels”. Does the label – disabled – help me? Does it help others? It must.

And why does it upset me to say out loud: “I am disabled!” I am, in law, disabled. Perhaps I need to own it.

Am I bothered that “I don’t look disabled”? Do I want the condition to be more physically obvious? No, no way, though I am sure that my subconscious craves more obvious signs to the world that I physically struggle: a ready-made excuse as to why I sometimes cannot do something. If I can’t stand up on a train to let a pregnant woman sit down, should I have to explain myself?

Logically, when my day is going well, I must be happy, right? But, then, subconsciously, I feel guilty that I am functioning well. There is guilt in feeling capable, able. And yet there is guilt when feeling incapable, unable.

I suppose that I should make much more of an effort to care even less about what others think. And, I wonder what other prejudices and silliness lurks in my subconscious.

CategoriesHealthThought of The Day

Poisoned by antibiotics?

It’s time for another dull health update. Today, my neurologist copied me into a letter which he sent to my GP. In it, he asks what types of antibiotics I have had over the years, speculating that I might be suffering from fluroquinolone toxicity. He asks whether I have ever taken ciprofloxacin (Cipro). Boy, have I taken Cipro! It’s the only antibiotic I can recall taking for the innumerable bouts of prostatitis which have plagued me for years.

In the US, there are class lawsuits against big pharma for the damage that these antibiotics have done to thousands of men. Stemming from these actions, the EU investigated the issue, leading to an EU-wide memo warning of its dangers. Relevant to me, the European Medicines Agency demanded that Cipro and others was not prescribed for chronic prostatitis.

In March 2019, our Department of Health advised GPs not to prescribe these antibiotics, unless in exceptional cases. The guidance notes that some people are left with permanent nerve damage. Perhaps this is where I am now.

Frankly, I am numb, at the thought that I’m stuck at 65% (if that) of capacity, permanently. Will I ever be able to work full-time again? Will I ever play sport again? Or run again?

And what trajectory am I now on? If permanent Cipro poisoning is the diagnosis, does this actually change anything?

In the last seven days, I have: attended the funeral of a good friend’s mother; met with someone whose son committed suicide; learned about my friend’s husband, who buried two of his children before they turned 12, due to an inherited condition; and caught up with another friend who has just lost their mother.

There are no guarantees for any of us. Everything has changed but nothing has changed: life is tough and unpredictable. Enjoy it! Time to book a holiday.

Lessons to Learn

Foolishly, well before now, I should have started researching why it was that I kept on succumbing to infections. In yesteryear, each infection would have killed me. It’s only of late when I have bothered to ask this fundamental question. More fool me. Repeated prescriptions of weapon’s grade antibiotics could never be the answer.

And as for the NHS, it could have saved us all tens of thousands of pounds by investigating why these infections occur. Upstreaming, holistic approaches to medicine must quickly become the way that we as a society tackle health issues. Quick fixes, like antibiotics, just push the problems down the line.

CategoriesInternational AffairsTravelThought of The Day

Almost Lost in Translation on the Longest Day (in 2004)

Below is a copy of my email to some friends, which I sent in August 2004, from Yunnan Province, China. That day, I had saved an American’s life. As I typed, I was knackered, discombobulated and tearful.

I record this email here, for posterity, for my children, as well as a record of what I thought – at that time – of Chinese medicine and their approach to SARS. This makes more sense to me now, 17 years on, given the initial approach of the Chinese government to Covid.

I really detest my writing style – so many typos! But more than the typos, I don’t like the tone of the person who wrote it – me – particularly the cultural tone. I am glad that I have changed.

As at a few years ago, Greg was still alive and well. We remain connected.  

………………………………….

Dear All,

I write this email to you a different man that wrote the last. I have a lump in my throat, a potential tear in my eye and I am semi delirious through lack of sleep.  Maybe this should not be in an email but I have nobody else to talk about it with.

Last Monday was to be my last day in China as my flight from Bangkok was today, however, I had been placed on a waiting list to extend my stay by one week. The kind lady in Bangkok had bought my story that I was ill in China and granted me my extension. Delighted, I returned to my guest house to break the great news to my two travelling companions.

So, we decided to go to something called the Tiger Leaping Gorge in a remote hilly area of Yunnan bordering Tibet (dont worry if you have never heard of it because I hadnt either). The gorge is possibly the largest in the world, with 3900m between the top of the mountains and the Yantse river below. The only problem we had was that the gorge was closed because of the wet season which made it even more prone to landslides than before. Many travellers and locals had died on this gorge.

We arrived in a ghost town. Only one cafe open and managed by an eccentric Aussy woman called Margo. After settling into our hotel, which for some bizarre reason possessed a western loo, we returned to the cafe to pick up some info on the next day’s trekking. She made us some delicious food which did not contain the following: chicken feet, heart, head, eyes or bones. We began to settle down and drink beer.  Margo told us everything that we needed to know, including the fact that we must start walking at the crack of dawn and the first three hours would be a 1000m assent.

As we relaxed, whilst listening to Savage Garden, Margo received calls from other points along the trek that an American couple that had set off from her cafe hours earlier were in serious trouble. She began to panic but we continued to drink beer as there was nothing we could do and the beer was good.  As the afternoon became evening and the locals had begun their annual torch festival, the heavens opened. We made friends with an American (yes, another American traveller in China) and a shy Chinese guy called Wang Wei ‘Wrong Way’. More calls came in from the almost deserted Gorge that the American couple were in need of desperate help. We just sat, drank and watched a local child in beautiful traditional dress pull the wings and legs off an unfortunate huge insect. More calls came in.

Suddenly, out of the rain, emerged a Chinese man, shaking. He was saturated and scared. The atmosphere amongst us five travellers changed. The problem was here. An American woman burst in a minute later in a state. Her boyfriend, Greg, was in the local hospital across the river. He was seriously ill. He set off in the morning with a cold and when he was 3000m up his chest began to hurt, he vomited, went into a fit and fell 5-feet down the gorge, landing on his head and swallowing his tongue.

Margo called the US embassy (a bunch of useless bloody morons) and I ran to the ‘hospital’. Can you imagine what this ‘hospital’ looked like in a rural village of 1,000 people? I found a crowd around the patient and the American girl, Liz, wailing. The patient, Greg, had his eyes open, fixed in one position, whilst he was in a constant fit. His arms and legs moved uncontrollably, as they had done for the last three hours and continued to do so for next 12 hours. I cannot think of a hospital I would less like to be ill in.  The crowd around the bed consisted of 15 people, including the drunk chief of police, a doctor, some nurses and anyone else who wanted to see a foreigner in risk of losing his life with only Wrong Way who could translate for us. Liz was delighted that there was a Westerner around who understood what she was saying.

I cleared the room, with the help of Wrong Way. Greg, the patient, continued to scream and fit. I assembled the doctors in the next room and, with the help of Wrong Way’s very broken English, I managed to understand that Greg was in danger and that we owed 700 yuan (80 US). The consensus was to take him by ambulance (van with flashing lights) two hours to a little city with a better hospital.

It took 8 men to carry Greg, with drips coming out of him, to the van. Liz wanted me in the van, as a friendly face, even though we had never met, and Wrong Way got in to help translate.  The journey was crazy. Greg was unconscious, but yet his arms and legs would not stop. Liz talked to him throughout. The journey was undertaken at midnight on roads that were prone to landslides, through the rain. To make it worse for me, I had been drinking most of the afternoon. I called all the people that Greg knew in the US, insurance companies and anyone who would listen to me on my mobile, as you need a special phone that is registered with the communist regime to call abroad (bastards).

We got to the hospital OK and were put in a ward with a bemused old man. There was only one doctor on duty and nobody that spoke English. The nurses filled him with drips, as Wrong Way tried to explain what had happened. Greg’s breathing deteriorated, and nobody seemed to know what to do. The night was horrid. We took him to have his brain scanned. Wrong Way held his head in place and I pinned his legs down, as Liz held his hands and tried to talk to him but he couldnt hear. We think that the scan was OK. No blood on the brain. Small mercy.

We took him back to the ward where there was urine and blood all over the floor. A vision of hell. In China, there is a rather do-it-yourself approach to health care. We had to hold the oxygen over his face and often had to hold the drips in place.  One vision that will live with me forever is Wrong Way holding Greg’s hand in place from pulling his drip out, whilst Wrong Way slept. I tried to doze but needed to reassure Liz that he was in a good place which I didnt believe. Liz didnt sleep and just talked to Greg with more love than I have ever witnessed.

The morning came and so did 30 non English-speaking doctors. The monring was so horrible. His condition got worse and his heartbeat was erratic at best. Liz remained calm. I tried. Wrong Way tried explaining what had had happened and I rang International SOS to get Greg out.  He was moved to another room with an expectant mother. Doctor after doctor came in. It was such a novelty to see a Westerner, especially one naked, having a fit for hour after hour. Every medical student came for a look and so did every patient in the hospital and those visiting those already in hospital. In fact, I feel sorry for all the other patients who lost the doctors and visitors just to see Greg. The Chinese had no shame: they stared with impunity at someone close to death because he is Western.

Greg’s father, with the help of me on the phone, managed to organise a medical evacuation but it was so hard to do. I think the fact that his Greg’s father is a wealthy state representative must have helped. I took call after call from his parents and made calls to speed things up.

All of a sudden, the situation got worse. He stopped breathing. There was 15 doctors around his bed trying to save him from an illness that they have only seen six times before and they all died. Liz, who was wailing, was taken to another room to be interrogated by another 15 doctors using a local business man who spoke quite good English. I remained with Greg, threatening law suits to International SOS, whilst crying at the same time. I was put onto an English doctor who reassured me that the Chinese would intubate him but they hadnt. Muppets. Eventually he was intubated and his life saved for the time being.  Maybe I should mention that this is the place where SARS started and the Chinese’s botched response to it began.

Greg stabilised and he was eventually intubated. International SOS got their act together (once a massive cheque had cleared) and called the hospital. All was not over. The doctors had a meeting where THEY were going to decide what to do. My mission was to stop them touching him again until the plane from Beijing arrived. Are doctors the world around so condescending??  Just as China seemed like hell, Wang Wei ordered us the equivalent of a KFC and paid for it. This single gesture was magic. The only time that Liz smiled. She is the strongest of women at 23.

The plane was now fours away with English-speaking, English trained doctors, onboard. I granted myself a smile. When things get good over here something always happens that reminds you that sometimes this place is so backward. The police arrived. Three menacing brutes in uniform and two pretty female undercover agents who wanted to know why were at the gorge and how the accident happened. Liz had to sign yet another form – all in Chinese – but what did it say? Who knows.

At 6pm, 26 hours after the accident there was a commotion at the door and the crowd pulled back from the door. It was the SOS team!!!!! YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS. They spoke English and they knew what they were doing. The equipment that is standard in the West fascinated the Chinese doctors. It took two hours to move him onto the trolly with crowd now at standing at 40.

I will never forget two things. First one, English-trained doctor and one English trained nurse could do what 30 Chinese doctors and 10 Chinese nurses could do. The second was a Chinese doctor saying to the English trained doctors that the patient’s salt levels were low and the better doctor retorting ‘It’s irrelevant’. The Chinese doctors looked on with disbelief. We could trust these two angels from the sky. Liz’s credit card had maxed so I paid half of the 700$ so he could be discharged.

The crowd and I waived the ambulance off, shattered.  According to the insurance company, Greg is still alive and is in Hong Kong. My prayers are with this man that I have cried over but have never spoken to. If he recovers, both Wang Wei and I have been invited to the wedding.

Dont reply. I had to write it.

Andrew

on a lighter note, never tell a Chinese hairdresser that you only want a little bit off your hair and show them a small space between your fingers to show them a small amount as they will cut it to that size. I now have a number three all over and wear a hat to cover my shame.

CategoriesHealthThought of The Day

Amor fati: Morvan’s Syndrome

I’m writing, this evening, for the first time, in a long time. Not about party-gate 1, 2 or 3; not about Reckless Boris; not about my booster jab; nor about party-pooper Omicron. As ever, I’m writing about my health.

Right now, this boring topic has me in a pensive, yet creative, mood. For posterity, and to help others, I want to record what I know – and feel – at this time.

A few hours ago, my neurologist informed me that he thought I had a rare condition, known as Morvan’s Syndrome. I haven’t heard of it either. Of course, he wants to run some more tests, but he seemed unusually sure of himself for a consultant, at a first appointment.

Given just how rare this condition is – with only four reported cases in English medical literature, according to the British Medical Journal – this blog will be one the few pages about Morvan’s Syndrome online. Facebook – usually a good source of groups about rare health conditions – has only one group, with 89 members, and no postings in ten years!

Though limited information is out there, here’s what I know so far:

  • Apparently, there’s medicine for this, which allows a sufferer to live a normal life.
  • But other reports suggest that frequent blood transfusions will be needed, every three weeks.
  • In 20% of cases, it’s fatal.
  • It normally strikes men, at a similar age to me.
  • It’s likely caused by an autoimmune condition.
  • Covid has triggered more reporting of the condition, so now is a “good” time to be diagnosed with it.
  • In the UK, only a lab in Oxford can do the analysis of the bloods.
  • Cancer is often the cause of it (which I think is unlikely for me!).
  • Some people spontaneously recover.
  • Some sufferers can go for months without sleep.

During 2021, I’ve had a number of potential diagnoses. Like the others, perhaps this one will fall by the wayside, too. I hope so, but if this is my fate, I’ll lap it up. I’ll adapt. I’ll be useful. I’ll own it. I’ll wear it.

CategoriesInternational AffairsPoliticsThought of The Day

Voices For Burma (Wikipedia entry)

(What follows is my Wikipedia entry for the organisation which I co-founded in 2003: Voices For Burma (VFB). Wikipedia removed the entry, so I add it here for posterity. Hopefully historians of that period will locate this page, and perhaps my kids will be proud of their father. After all, Aung San Suu Kyi was regarded as a saint until 2017, but we campaigned against her 14 years before that).

Voices for Burma

Voices for Burma (VFB) was a Non-Governmental Organisation founded in 2003, closing in 2009. Founded in the UK, Voices for Burma campaigned on two fronts. First, to examine the complexities of the tourist boycott of Myanmar promoted by Aung San Suu Kyi and secondly to educate visitors to Myanmar on the need to travel in the country ethically.

Original Founders

Voices for Burma was founded by Andrew Gray, Anna Laycock and Zishaan Arshad, following Andrew Gray’s visits to Burma/Myanmar in 2002 and 2003.

Change of Leadership of Voices for Burma

As Cherie McCosker and Emily Pelter joined Voices for Burma, Zishaan Arshad and thereafter Anna Laycock stepped aside. Andrew Gray remained throughout.

Campaigning

Voices for Burma was supported by Dr Zarni of the Free Burma Coalition and several British former diplomats and Myanmar scholars. On their key message that ethical tourism to Myanmar could be undertaken ethically, Voices for Burma took the counter position to The Burma Campaign UK which had maintained strict adherence to Aung San Suu Syi call for a total tourism boycott.

Primarily, Voices for Burma educated potential visitors to Myanmar through its website (now defunct) and through Lonely Planet’s Thorn Tree online travel forum. The website was created and managed by Burmese refugees living in India.

Voices for Burma was invited by Lonely Planet editors to advise on the 9th edition of the Burma/Myanmar guidebook, referenced in the 2005 edition.

Publications

In 2006, Voices for Burma submitted written evidence to the UK House of Lords on the efficacy of the tourism boycott here. Voices for Burma concluded:

“It is VFB’s stance that the UK Government’s policy on tourism to Burma is at best confused and at worst irreconcilable with its commitment under the Common Position to assist the poorest sections of Burmese society. It is not VFB’s argument that the Travel Boycott is fundamentally flawed, as VFB discourages some tourists to Burma, however the boycott policy has not been evaluated and has not engendered any positive societal shifts.”

In 2006, founder Andrew Gray appeared in the New York Times here.

“When I was in Burma, I’ve never met anyone who said that I shouldn’t be there,” said Andrew Gray, founder of Voices for Burma, another advocacy group. Mr. Gray argues that educated tourists can spend money on local businesses without government links and help average people in one of Asia’s poorest nations.”

In 2010, though now defunct, Voices for Burma appeared in The Guardian at here.

“While favouring engagement, Voices for Burma and the Free Burma Coalition urge tourists to do as much as possible to help private Burmese citizens and not put money in the government’s pocket, and in fact it is possible to do so now as a tourist.”

 

 

CategoriesThought of The Day

They f%$% you up, your mum and dad

So wrote Philip Larkin.

I blog to make sense of all the noise. And there is more noise than ever. This blog is just more noise, I know. My noise.

Whilst my children are trick and treating (which I have always despised), I thought that I would write down – in no particular order – what I think that I should bequeath to my children before they leave home. Confidently, I know that I have missed many principles and events. Do please email me with your suggestions, so that I can update this list.

My experience of parenting is that children tend to copy what they see, rather than what they are told. This list, therefore, is an aide memoir for me to tick off.

But as Phil Larkin wrote, whatever I try to do, I’ll inadvertently mess things up.

 

  1. To know that they are loved.
  2. Physically healthy, as far as a parent can assist.
  3. To be mentally healthy, as far as a parent can help.
  4. Spiritually aware.
  5. Fun-loving, with some jokes ready to deploy.
  6. To have tried a variety of activities.
  7. To be able to cook some basic meals and to shop for those basics.
  8. To be able to wash clothes.
  9. To be able to manage their finances and their “paperwork”.
  10. To have an understanding of their family origins, but not to be beholden to them.
  11. Politically aware, though with an open mind.
  12. International in outlook.
  13. Hard working.
  14. To have a number of good friends.
  15. To understand bias in news reporting and sources.
  16. Safe online.
  17. Talents and interests examined.
  18. Environmentally conscious.
  19. Experience of alternative perspectives.
  20. Sound decision-making tools, with improving judgement.
  21. Sound – though fluid – values.
  22. A belief in lifelong learning.
  23. Reproductively aware.
  24. Content with their gender and sexuality.
  25. Creativity explored.
  26. Locally aware.
  27. Some musical skills.
  28. Understanding and pride with their bodies.
  29. Ability to read.
  30. Experience of earning some money.
  31. An understanding of death and their own mortality.
  32. To have failed – multiple times – and to have picked themselves up again.
  33. To have broken some rules.
  34. Not to have irretrievably fallen out with their immediate family.
  35. Some knowledge of history.
  36. Some words in a foreign language.
  37. Comprehension of team work.
  38. To be able to advocate for themselves and for others.
  39. To have been bored.
  40. To know when to lead and to know when to follow.
  41. To create energy for others, when it is needed.

 

CategoriesLegalQuakerismThought of The Day

In Sickness and Health, in New Earswick             

Yesterday, I had the pleasure of attending the wedding of one of my best friends. The ceremony was in York, with the wedding reception at the New Earswick Folk Hall, to the north of York.

With my dysautonomia running wild, my recollection of the ceremony is hazy. I do recall that whilst holding hands with my wife (as we tend to do during a wedding – and only during a wedding!), I think that the vicar read the usual “in sickness and in health” line. For the umpteenth time, I felt immeasurable gratitude to my awesome wife for the way that she has looked after me during my “in sickness”, this year, whilst keeping the family running and holding down a demanding job.

Saying my marriage vows, all those years ago, I don’t recall paying much attention to the precise words: thankfully, though, my wife has honoured them. It hasn’t been easy for her, but, somehow, in sickness we have become stronger.

All of this reminded me of the law concerning the value of personal injury claims. How so, you will ask?

Because when valuing a serious injury claim, in which the injured person’s life expectancy and marriage prospects are impacted, occasionally a lawyer must consider whether the value of the claim has changed as a result of the injury. To quantify any losses, lawyers look to statistical information provided by actuaries. European statistics reveal that married men live on average 1.7 years longer than unmarried men, whereas married women live 1.4 years fewer! Yesterday’s marriage appears to be a good statistical bargain for my groom friend.

…………………………………………………………

I lived and studied in York – 2002-2004. My wife and I met in York, and we were engaged there, too, next to the River Ouse.

Although Quakerism is synonymous with York, during my time in this wonderful city, I didn’t encounter Quakerism. Only in 2007, whilst reading the book – Utopian Dreams by Tobias Jones – which explored international communes, did I learn about Quakerism, thanks to the author’s time in New Earswick with Quakers.

Although saddened to miss the wedding reception (noise is too much), I very much enjoyed sitting in the car, in a car park, for four hours, in my finest suit, watching the comings and goings around the Quaker Meeting House and Folk Hall.  What a fine place New Earswick is! Friendly, no-nonsense, communal, child-friendly and purposefully planned.

Created by the Rowntrees as a model village primarily for the workers at their chocolate factory, New Earswick is akin to Bourneville and Saltaire. Foolishly, this was my first time in New Earswick, but it won’t be my last. My wife and I would like to retire here, in sickness and in health.

CategoriesPoliticsHarrogateThought of The Day

New dictionary word: “Phillip-Allott-ed” 

Verb (transitive)

To be “Phillip-Allott-ed” is a four-staged test.

First, during a stream of consciousness, you brain-dump your most bizarre, innermost thoughts, at the most insensitive of times, in full public gaze, crushing your ability to carry out your new job. Your action reveals something particularly unusual about you that only your closest friends and family might have known, and which made you precisely the wrong person to carry out your new duties.

Second, you attempt an apology, but only make matters worse, compounding your first gaffe, drawing additional ire, ensuring that the story continues to run in both the local and national news.

Third, you try to cling on to your job, in the face of universal bewilderment, during which time you are publicly humiliated, time and again, before falling on your sword. See Margaret Thatcher’s demise, dragged out kicking and screaming.

Fourth, your unforgivable opinion expressed in the first stage of the test, ensure that such viewpoints will be forcefully tackled by your successor, thereby providing a total annihilation of the position you so publicly espoused.

Example

“That new guy at work, didn’t last long. After his tirade and his protestations, he’s eventually been Phillip-Allott-ed.”

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

N.B. All MPs, mayors, PCFCs and councillors deserve our gratitude, including Mr Allott. I know many of them: all of them want to make their communities a better place. The politician has become a dangerous profession, too. RIP Sir David Amess MP and Jo Cox.

CategoriesQuakerismHarrogateThought of The Day

Living Adventurously, in Settle

Typing this blog on my phone, in Settle Quaker Meeting House, North Yorkshire, I can hear an English language lesson taking place, one on one, in the room above. The student, I imagine, a recent newcomer to this country. I’m not eavesdropping: you cannot help but hear it.

Quaker Meeting House Settle

By some distance, this is my favourite Meeting House: simple, wooden, in a central location, and surrounded by an enchanting garden, together with a Quaker burial ground. Founded in 1678 during the usual period of Quaker persecution, it’s one of the oldest Meeting Houses.

Quaker burial ground

Interestingly, the founder of Birkbeck College came from here, George Birkbeck. He had previously founded the Mechanics’ Institute, which were adult education centres, focussed on the working man.

Soon, I will be launching a radical, consensus-building, democratic tool called Pol.is, to be hosted by the newly formed: The Crowd Wisdom Project. On this project, I work with a talented tech whizz, who lives in Ghana. He designed this website for me. Coincidentally, as I sit here, on the poster, before me, is a list of some of the Quaker Meetings around the world. One of them is in Accra, Ghana!

Quaker Post

I’ve never felt more like a Quaker: sitting peacefully, alone, at the beginning of this movement. It’s tranquil, here, yet still international, even in this sleepy Dales town.

 

CategoriesInternational AffairsPoliticsThought of The Day

Buy a Generator, Just in Case

Political nerds like me are fascinated with Dominic Cummings. So interested, in fact, that I pay him a monthly fee to read his excellent newsletter. I know: I have just lost a chunk of my audience at that announcement. (You can sign up here. Previously, I blogged about Cummings here.)

In a recent lengthy post, Cummings writes:

“If you will live in the UK over the next 6 months take steps to ensure you and your family can cope with a 4 week major disruption — e.g a cascade of logistics and energy failures. The only safe assumption is that the true situation is much worse than the media are telling you. This was true in spring 2020 and autumn 2020. It’s true now. Making some basic preparations is extremely low downside and extremely high upside. Keep in mind, some of the people I know who were most right most early on covid and other things have bought generators they can plug into their homes…”

In a more sensible media landscape, the suggestion from someone as senior as Cummings that we should consider purchasing a generator would be a major headline. But the media landscape is warped, fixated on personalities and trivialities.

Cummings is in good company, for Goldman Sachs has warned of a “non-negligible risk” of power outages, too.

With a number of energy providers having gone under in the last few weeks and with 12m people soon to get a whopping 12% hike to their energy bills, we should examine the reasons why, which, according to Deloitte, are:

  1. Natural gas prices have quadrupled over the past six months.
  2. Gas provides the UK with 40% of electricity production and 80% of the heating of homes.
  3. There is ongoing maintenance work in the North Sea.
  4. Wind speeds are low.
  5. Droughts have reduced hydropower.
  6. Unlike in Europe with their 20-30% storage facilities for gas, we stand at only 2%: there is no wriggle room.
  7. Fixed-rate tariffs and price caps don’t easily allow price increases to be passed onto consumers.

And we haven’t opened a nuclear power station since 1995. If Norway and Russia don’t increase supply, and if we have a cold winter with low wind speeds, we are in serious trouble, according to the experts.

Risk-assessing this situation, buying a generator – and the fuel if you can get any! – is a sensible course of action. If Reckless Boris says that there is nothing to worry about, then there is everything to worry about.

Think clearly, folks.