Today's the day....................

Or to put the same sentiments in other words:
Carpe diem; 
Gather ye rosebuds while ye may;
Strike while the iron is hot;
The early bird catches the worm;
You only live once.
A good way to look at the world.

In praise of Kit HIll

Another glorious day and I took myself off to Kit Hill this afternoon for some fresh air.  My IWC was otherwise engaged so I had to settle for my second best walking companion - me!  The route I took (our 'normal' route) numbers amongst the ones I like best.  It's only 3 miles long but it's got a bit of everything: panoramic views, wildlife, industrial archaeology, social history, seclusion, exercise and all within just a couple of minutes from home. It was owned (ie taken off the people) by the Duchy of Cornwall from the early 1300s and donated to Cornwall Council (ie given back to the people) in 1985-ish to commemorate the birth of Prince William.  It really is a gem of a place and offers something different every time we walk it.  Today was no exception.  Everyone should have a Kit Hill close by!  

The walk starts with a half mile slog up the track of a disused mineral tramway that used to bring granite from the quarry at the top down to a railway line. Thence to Calstock and the River Tamar (formerly) and the steam line to the docks at Plymouth (latterly).  The knack to negotiating the incline is to get the correct pace to go up without stopping to draw breath.  Today was not one of those days - but I only stopped once. And that was because I heard a skylark (well, that's my story). 

The view from the top of the incline.  I reckon it has a 45 degree angle for most of its length and it always feels an achievement to get to the top in reasonably good shape without any sinister chest pains!  It's my cardiovascular benchmark.

The granite quarry at the top.  It was worked from the early 1800s to the mid-1950s.  It is highly probable that our house was built from stone quarried here.  It's flooded now (obviously) and, to me, always has a tranquil atmosphere.  In total contrast to the hustle and bustle when it was in its prime.

Man has been visiting Kit Hill for at least the last 8000 years and has left a landscape littered with holes, humps and bumps.  Most of which are associated with the mining of various minerals (mainly tin, copper, lead, arsenic, tungsten and silver) or the quarrying of granite. The photograph shows just one of the many inspection pits that were dug when miners were prospecting for productive lodes.  They'd dig a series of these before deciding where to put in the major effort needed for a larger shaft.  The spoil from the excavation forms the hump on the right.

The view roughly north west from where I stood.  The mountains in the distance are some of the tors of Dartmoor and are about 20 miles away. The maximum visibility I've seen from Kit Hill is around 30 miles from the other side looking towards the sea.  Under the best of conditions the lighthouse on the Eddystone Rock 10 miles offshore can be made out

After a little, probably ill-advised, scrambling I climbed down to the entrance to an old adit.  These are horizontal shafts dug into the side of the hill, either following a mineral seam or for drainage of a working area.  Typical of most, this one always has a stream running from it and, as the modern blue pipes show, the the water is being used today.  It has a strong mineral taste which, given its origins, isn't too surprising.

This is the stream which emerges from the adit.  In medieval times, its course was diverted many times as early miners collected tin directly from its bed.  As mining techniques improved, they followed the stream into the hill forming the horizontal adit and accessed the mineral-bearing seams that way.  Further improvements in technology, such as the invention of the steam engine, were necessary before vertical shafts could be used.

How sad.  The kissing gate at the end of the walk and nobody to pucker up for!

This is the hand........................

...............that shook the hand of Prince Charles in 1968.  And it hasn't dropped off yet! 

A two counties walk

We have been incredibly lucky of late with the weather on the day of our walks.  Today was no exception: another perfect day for going out and enjoying the Cornish coast.

It was a walk a little out of the ordinary for our group. We started in Devon, took a ferry across the Tamar into Cornwall, where we did a 9 miler around the Rame Peninsular.  Briefly, our itinerary was:

*  Start at the Devil's Point car park in Stonehouse, Plymouth.
*  Breakfast at Elvira's Cafe - the best bacon bap I've had for ages.
*  Cremyll to Mount Edgecombe pedestrian ferry across the Tamar.
*  Walk along the coast through Mount Edgecombe park and along cliffs to Kingsand.
*  Refreshments overlooking Plymouth Sound.
*  A steep (and I do mean steep) climb out of Kingsand up to Maker Church.
*  Down the other side of the peninsular to Empacombe Quay.
*  Back to ferry and across to Devon.

Quite an energetic walk with a couple of challenging steep bits to negotiate.  But with such weather and views, what a day to be out and about.  Perhaps the following photographs will give a little taster?

What a place to start a walk! Drake's Island in Plymouth Sound surrounded by sun-sparkling sea.

 

Elvira's Cafe - highly recommended for breakfast. A double whammy - amazingly good and amazingly cheap.

 

Our transport across the Tamar - the Cremyll to Edgecombe ferry.  There's been one plying this route for at least a thousand years. Not this boat, of course, it's not as old as that.

 

The view looking back and down on the twin villages of Kingsand and Cawsand. Now both in Cornwall but were separated for centuries by the county boundary which can still be seen cutting across the main road.  It's a heat haze, not mist, clouding the shot.

 

I like this clock on the Cornish side of the ferry.  It reads: 'Dost thou love life? Then do no squander time. Time and tide tarry for none'.  It is dated 1885.

 

Some fascinating shapes and shades on this branch of a sloe tree. Lichens and liverworts amongst the flower buds. A good indicator of the purity of the air in this part of the world.

Apparently this pair of swans have been nesting on the side of the road by Elvira's for several years. Their nest is protected by a temporary fence. As the notice says, they are sitting on three eggs.

 

 

 

 

 

Those boots were made for........spooking.

An earlier post where I mentioned an unexplained encounter at Caerphilly Castle brought to mind the only other similar happening I've had.  We'll call this one 'The Dark Arch Incident'.

Let's set the scene.  When I was growing up the local pit or coal mine (Bedwas Navigation Colliery to give it its full title) was an even bigger playground for us than Caerphilly Castle.  It loomed large over the village and provided employment for most of the men.  We roamed around it and in it as freely as we could get away with and there were few parts of the pit that we weren't familiar with.  The pit buildings were on the mountainside and were separated from the village (and the now contiguous neighbouring village of Trethomas) by the railway line (down to Newport and up to Merthyr Tydfil).  Easy access to the pit  for many of the miners was provided by a narrow tunnel - the Dark Arch - under the railway.  The Dark Arch was around 100 yards long and had a kink in its length so that you could not see all the way through.  It was dank, smelly and, at best, very poorly lit.  For young children it was a rather frightening place.  So much so that, more often than not, we would wait for some miners to go through and then tag along behind them rather than risking it by ourselves.

The infamous Dark Arch. The hut to the left was a relic of the strikes for union recognition in the 30s.  A classic workers vs bosses conflict which the workers won.  Power to the People!

However, when we were feeling brave we used to play a game of dare: who had the nerve to go through the Dark Arch by themselves?  How old were we when we did this?  In my mind, we were a few years younger than 11, certainly before I moved the great distance of a mile to live in Trethomas rather than Bedwas (that would be 1959).  Back to the game: this involved a few of us at each end at the start and the bravest setting off into the Stygian gloom alone.  We did this many times without anything of note happening but one particular time something did.  We were all set up with maybe 3 or 4 of us congregated at each of the two entrances.  All of a sudden, the group I was with heard the sound of hob-nailed boots clattering over the cobbles of the tunnel.  It sounded as if a miner was walking through. This went on for a while and we waited for someone to emerge before we started our game. But the clattering faded away and no-one came out.  We thought that the walker had stopped out of sight so we waited ... and waited and waited .. for them to come out. Nobody did and, after a while, we went in en masse to see what was happening. No-one was there and we met the other group of us coming down doing the same thing.  All of us had heard the sound and, as no-one had gone passed us, we were all convinced that someone had been walking in the tunnel towards the end that we were standing at.  I know what I heard and, again, I have no explanation for it.  Of course, at the time we attributed it to the Dark Arch being haunted, not that I was ever aware of any such myths being associated with it, then or since.  One consequence of this event was that we never played the game again and we made sure that we always went through the Dark Arch with at least one friend or tagged onto an adult.  Another consequence was that, even as an adult, I never felt easy going through the tunnel.  As a student, I spent a few summers working at the coking plant next to the pit and, although the route through the Dark Arch was the shortest, I invariably took the longer path that avoided it.  Daft, eh?  Even dafter is the observation that the hairs at the back of my neck were standing on end as I just recalled the sound of the ghostly hob-nailed boots advancing towards me - over the decades..........

Oh dear, I think I'm going down with something.



I've got a slight sniffle, some minor watering of the eyes and a mild tickle at the back of the throat.  These symptoms may sound inocuous to some but I'm not as dismissive.  They could be the opening gambit of something far more serious - Man Flu - and I'm not taking any chances.  It's a day indoors for me, with plenty of hot tea and toasted muffins.  But will my ISC take my plight seriously and give me the care and attention my condition deserves?  I live in hope and expectation of a day wallowing in her solicitous TLC.

It's common knowledge amongst men that Man Flu is a crippling and debilitating disorder that can strike us down indiscriminately and without warning. Rather cruelly it's often referred to pejoratively by women as something trivial: a fuss over nothing; making mountains out of molehills. But what do they know? They are lucky enough to be immune to the illness as Man Flu is now known to attack exclusively the XY chromosome carrier (i.e. males) whereas the simple common cold predominantly targets XX chromosome holders (i.e. females). Medical professionals widely recognise that self diagnosis by the sufferer is the very best means of identification and this, perhaps, goes some way to explain the cynicism some women display towards their male counterparts.  Take a look at the following diagrams and be convinced of the biological basis of Man Flu.



The nasty Man Flu influenza virus which specifically targets males through its XY Receptor (indicated). Note its absence in the 'female' virus. 

The  normal influenza virus which is relatively mild and infects women. Note the absence of the XY Receptor. 
 

For those with doubts, I give some answers below to a few common misperceptions about the malady.

Man Flu is simply a cold, the symptoms of which are greatly exaggerated by men. FALSE - Man Flu is a serious and potentially life threatening illness. It's a distinct disease in its own right, and should not be confused with the common cold. I think it's only a matter of time before it appears on the Health and Safety Executive's list of Reportable Diseases.

Women can catch Man Flu. FALSE - The clue is in the name: Man Flu does not attack humans with the XX chromosome, only those with the XY chromosome. This means that women are effectively immune to its ravages. This fact may account for the reason that women widely, but unkindly, believe that Man Flu is actually just the common cold, but with a lot of histrionics thrown in for good measure.

The best way to deal with Man Flu is to just 'get on with it'. FALSE - Extensive research has proven that the only way to combat the crippling effects of Man Flu is complete withdrawal to the couch/bed and uninterrupted mollycoddling of the sufferer by his female partner.

Men have a slower recovery rate from Man Flu than women do from the common cold. TRUE - The effects of Man Flu can linger for days and days (if not weeks and weeks), compared with just a few hours for the common cold. It is absolutely crucial to recognise that, if the man is not permitted the correct period of convalescence following an attack of Man Flu, he can be plunged back into a parlous condition.

The pain and suffering of Man Flu is similar to that of child birth. TRUE - Though I will say that with child birth it's generally all over in just a few hours (I know as I've been through it twice), but Man Flu can last for weeks.

And, finally, if you are still sceptical about the existence of Man Flu, just listen to the words of Ogden Nash in his poem 'Common Cold'. Wonderful imagery and if he isn't describing Man Flu, I'll eat my tissues.

 

RIP: Aunty Angela

We travelled to Newcastle yesterday for the funeral of my aunty Angela - a quiet, unassuming and kind person.  We did not meet up that often but her passing marks the removal of yet another tessera from my life's mosaic.

The crematorium where the commital was conducted is located on Scotswood Road in Newcastle.  I've been there once before and I can remember the exact date: 15th October 1964.  Why would I remember it so precisely?  On a whim a friend (Malcolm James) and I had hitch-hiked from South Wales to Morpeth to stay with my uncle John and aunty Angela. As the day after we got there was General Election Day, we decided to go to an Election Night disco in the Top Rank dance hall in Scotswood Road. The DJ was the now infamous Jimmy Saville who I distinctly recall sported tartan dyed hair. Other details of the evening are lost in a fug of Newcastle Brown ale and liquorice-paper rollies!  For the record, Labour won the election by 5 seats and Harold Wilson became Prime Minister.

And if you think 'Scotswood Road' sounds familiar, you may have heard it referred to in the chorus of the Geordie folk song, The Blaydon Races:
Oh me lads, you should've seen us gannin

Passing the folks along the road
And all of them were starin'
All the lads and lasses there
They all had smilin' faces
Gannin along the Scotswood Road
To see the Blaydon Races

A philematological connection?

I was looking for a particular photograph recently and came across this one of a kissing gate. I can't remember where I took it and I think the reason I took it rests with the rails on the right. They look suspiciously like old railway tracks to me and I was probably intrigued by this example of recycling.

On our walks we pass through many kissing gates and my IWC always insists on a kiss before she lets me through. "Pucker up, boyo, and give me a smackerooni if you want to come this way" is her call whenever we come across one. Admittedly very pleasurable but it does sometimes make for much longer than planned walks.

Being a dewy-eyed and lovestruck innocent, I have always accepted without question my IWC's explanation for using this purely functional object as an excuse for a public display of passion: "Why do you think it's got its name?" is what she's always said. You can imagine my disillusionment when I learnt recently that the true etymology of the name is that the gate merely "kisses" (touches) the enclosure either side, rather than needing to be securely latched. But, if she believes otherwise, who am I to disabuse her? I'll just have to continue puckering up!

Screamadelica

Thank you to the kind person who pointed out the similarity between my last two posts. No, I was not Edvard Munsch's model.

 

Some days...................

.................this seems to be the only sensible way to respond to what is reported in the news. We really are a strange species.

At long last, I've got it!

How can it be? I'm old enough to get one of these? Not a good photograph though. I must have moved at the wrong moment.

 

Lanes, water, blues and yellows

Boots on again today for a walk with the local U3A Group.  Rather unusually the route did not feature Dartmoor, Bodmin Moor, the Coastal Footpath or any muddy tracks.  It started just a couple of miles from home in the village of Harrowbarrow and was a meander around country lanes.  We went through Bartlett's Mill, St Dominick, Cotehele Quay, Cotehele Mill and then back to where we began.  There were a few hills to negotiate as we went down one side of a valley and up the other (there were several of these) so it couldn't be classed as an easy walk.  About 7 miles would be a fairly accurate estimate of the distance.

We finished up in a friend's garden for a cup of tea as a pleasant finale.  It was a garden with a couple of rather unusual features - an arsenic calciner dating from around 1850 and a copper sulphate blue stream running through it (see photo below).

And the weather?  Absolutely glorious! Much warmer than the overnight frost had suggested, with clear, blue skies most of the way around so we had some stunning views of the Tamar Valley.  A day like this nourishes both mind and body.

Streams a plenty on the walk. This one has had a leat tapped off from it for hundreds of years to drive the water mill at Cotehele.  The mill is still in operation producing flour and the leat is also utilised to generate power through a small hydroelectricity scheme.

A stream with a difference! This one runs from some old workings of a copper mine. Hence the blue colour of the stones on the bed of the stream, although this photograph does not really show the hue as bright as it is in reality.

A sunken lane which was originally a medieval pack horse track taking produce to and from the river.

Daffodils in profusion in the hedgerows and woods. But not the only yellow flower around as there were plenty of primroses as well. A very floriferous time of the year!

Is there a better place to stop for lunch? On the quay at Cotehele with the river shimmering in the sun. 

"Who in the hell is Tom Jones" by Charles Bukowski

I subscribe to a few 'poem a day' services that drop a wide spectrum of verse into my inbox each day. Some good, same awful, some incomprehensible, some wonderful.  A quick scan usually lets me know what to do: ignore or read.  Today a poem by Charles Bukowski came in: 'Who the hell is Tom Jones'. This is one to listen to rather than read (Try the Youtube Spoken Verse channel). It came with a note purporting to be written by one of the protagonists in the drama.  I accept it is. It adds to the story and fills out my perception of the poet: someone who tended to write his words to suit the persona he created.  A persona that wasn't real but he had, nonetheless, a great talent.
 

I was the naive girl from NYC. Bukowski wrote this poem to promote the image of this hard-drinking, womaniser that he so fiercely wanted the public to believe was true. Yes he drank heavily, and at 55 he was not able to fulfil all that "shacking up" implies, not with me at least. The drawing is not representative of me or his drunk girlfriend. He wrote other versions of this incident, all to make himself look like the sought-after Casanova. He wrote marvellous, inaccurate drama.
 

A tale of two islands?

The results of the referendum in the Falkland Islands are in and it is no surprise that the vote is overwhelmingly in favour of retaining ties with the UK. Cameron and Hague are doing the media round and telling the Argentinans to back off: the Islanders have spoken. As Posh Dave has put it "I think the most important thing about this result is that we believe in self-determination, and the Falkland Islanders have spoken so clearly about their future, and now other countries right across the world, I hope, will respect and revere this very, very clear result."  Great rhetoric and a great statement of principle. Or is it?

Can we now expect the government to follow the same principle on the rights of the Chagos people in relation to their Diego Garcia home? They are British citizens, roughly the same number as inhabit the Falkland Islands, and had lived in Diego Garcia since the 18th century. Their expulsion followed the purchase of their islands in 1965 by the UK in order to provide the US with a military airbase. Despite every legal effort on their behalf they have been prevented ever since from returning home. A referendum among them would certainly produce a similar result as that among the Falkland Islanders will no doubt shortly demonstrate.

Why should the Chagos Islanders be treated differently? One could infer that the imposed absence from their home, in stark contrast to undertaking a huge military effort in the South Atlantic to maintain the Falkland Islanders in theirs, has its roots in their different origins. Would we be treating the Chagosians in this way if they were ex-patriot Brits?  Is there not a whiff of racism at play here?

Jokes don't get any worse than this!

A candidate for the most obscure joke ever? Ask a sporty chemist to explain (when he/she has stopped groaning).

 

If a Picamole looks like this, I'd hate to meet a full one on a dark night.

The power of Photoshop

Photoshop has brought a new dimension to political commentary - and subversion.  Here are just three that have amused me recently. To use the old cliche, a picture is worth a thousand words.

 

 

 

 

 

Rose-in-Vale Break: March 2013: Part 3

Our luck holds with yet another day of good weather. A little breezy at times but for most of our walk the conditions were ideal.  Once more we started off with a bus ride: this time from Godrevy to Portreath (and yet again I paid the price for being bloody minded, as my IWC reminded me. I know, I know - I'll be getting my card this week and then I can travel free. But the principle of my stand against creeping bureaucracy remains valid, albeit misplaced and somewhat puerile).

From Portreath we walked due west back to our starting point. Although there were a few ups and downs, the route followed the cliff edge fairly closely and was not particularly difficult. The distance was about 8 miles and, because of the terrain, did not feel too onerous.  As I said the conditions were very good and the visibility must have been at least 20 miles, giving us some great views of the coastline heading east.

Undergarment warning: those of a nervous disposition are advised to stop reading here. Here's a tip for walking the cliff tops in maximum comfort - thermal long johns. Absolutely wonderful under light weight trousers. Warmth and flexibility - highly recommended but admittedly not a fashionable look.  Does anyone remember Max Wall? That's me, that is!

Good boots, a granola bar and the coastal footpath - 3 of the 4 ingredients of a great day out. The 4th? Who you walk with.



More or less the entire walk, from Portreath on the left to Godrevy in the foreground.





Grey seals on the beach at Mutton Cove near Godrevy Head.  But still no choughs!  Another day, perhaps.



Rose-in-Vale Break: March 2013: Part 2

What happened to the weather? A glorious day for walking - dry, clear and warm, but not so warm as to make it uncomfortable. A very pleasant 10/11C by my estimation.

By bus from St Agnes to Perranporth (without my bus pass as I have still to get that - once I move beyond my unreasonable streak of pointless bloody-mindedness - but that's another story) and then back along the coastal footpath due west. Navigation is easy peasy as all that is required is to keep the sea on the right and avoid the cliff edge. Blue sea, blue sky, sea birds, cliffs and a modicum of industrial archaeology all contributed to a very pleasant few hours.  By the time we had finished, we'd done somewhere around 5 - 6 miles, but definitely not at any record breaking pace. There was no need for a route march and we took time to enjoy our surroundings. 

We ended up walking a stretch of a 'hidden' footpath into St Agnes and this gave us a glimpse of the less public face of the village. Extremely pleasant, and with a nice cup of tea at the end!  And absolutely no sign of any choughs.

Looking back towards Perranporth and Penhale Sands (the building in the foreground is a Youth Hostel).

An iconic sight around these parts - a Cornish engine house. This one is called Wheal Friendly and is obviously being well looked after. At one stage we counted 9 or 10 like this in our view.

The terrain we walked through was pock-marked with mine workings and shafts. Many of them have been 'capped' off with conical wire cages rather than being filled with rubble. It is done this way to ensure that the local bat population, which love to roost in old mine workings, are not disturbed. It is, in fact, illegal to do anything that disrupts them.

Rose-in-Vale Break: March 2013: Part 1

My IWC and I are staying at the Rose-in-Vale Hotel in Mithian for a few days. The intention being to complete a couple more stretches of the Cornish Coastal Footpath around here. The weather for the past 10 days or so has been ideal for walking but, you've guessed it, it's changed!  A very grey and misty trip down (it takes all of an hour to get here) but with brighter prospects for tomorrow and Saturday. The plan is to use the local public transport and do some linear walks from Point A back to our car at Point B. Tomorrow we'll be plugging a gap east of here from Perranporth and on Saturday a section between Porthtowan and Portreath.  Fingers crossed for some clear weather so we can get some good views. The cliff birds are starting their nest-building activities and there should be lots to see.  A chough has been spotted not far from here and, who knows, we could be in luck.

Trevaunance Cove, just outside of St Agnes. A rather hazy shot but very atmospheric nonetheless. It's hard to imagine that this was once the location of an extremely busy port servicing the many tin mines in the area.



Lichen and liverwort on a wooden post make an attractive still life. The muted greens contrast vividly with the bright yellow daffodils in the vicinity.



Humouring the Iron Bar Man

Ms Bar proudly surveying her handiwork

Was it really way back in September last year when I waxed lyrical about my acquisition of the iron bar of my dreams? How time flies. Since then I've kept said bar cossetted from the winter weather, fearing that the fine patina would be degraded by the harsh conditions we experience down here in Cornwall. But, yesterday with the barometer set fair, it was time to take her (with such a curvaceous shape, she can only be female) and do the things that only she could do.  With a prod here and a lift there, a whole pile of stones were soon extracted from the ground and the construction of a retaining wall began. Hooray for Ms Bar - she's certainly lived up to my expectations.  Long may she continue to delight.

And the title of this blog? It comes from a free-verse poem, Humouring the Iron Bar Man, by Graham Fulton, a native of Paisley in Scotland. Not my usual fare but it's well worth reading through a few times before doing it out aloud in the best Scottish accent you can muster.

 
My back
is to the window
I am
in the public house
sitting
on foam and torn
cloth
glancing
behind me from time
to time
into a void of churchy spires
and soft
blue
I think
I know
the barman among the tobyjugs
is dumbly
mouthing the secret words
IS
HE
BOTHERING
YOU?

it is
slightly pouring down outside
and inside I am shaking my
head
trying hard
not
to laugh
for
if I laugh or suggest
a smile
the man in the jacket
squelching beside me
who introduced himself to me nicely
will bash me with an iron bar
over
my head which will crunch
crack
in front of everyone
out
for a chat in familiar surroundings
safe
secure
just like he didn’t do before
to somebody else he insists
He is
just out of Barlinnie
I am
glancing behind me from time
to
time
into a void of churchy blue
and soft
spires
I thought I
knew
so well So wrong

Stop the privatisation of our NHS

I'm a passionate supporter of the NHS and am aghast at the plans of the Coalition Government to slowly dismantle it. The following is taken directly from an e-mail I've had from 38 Degrees, an independent campaigning organisation.  It is an important issue so, dear reader, if you can, please share as widely as possible. Cut and paste, email to friends, share the link – anything to help stop this.

Dear Deri It’s being called backdoor NHS privatisation. And if we want to stop it, what happens in Parliament this week is crucial. Some Labour, Lib Dem and Green MPs have tabled a motion demanding the NHS privatisation plan be immediately withdrawn. [1] So far only 72 MPs have signed up. [2] We need to make that number grow, and quickly. In the last few hours, the legal advice paid for by thousands of 38 Degrees members’ donations has come in. The verdict seems clear. If the government forces through these new NHS privatisation rules, it will mean ministers breaking promises they made last year when they said doctors wouldn’t be forced to privatise everything. [3] We’ve got the proof we need to show MPs that the government is breaking the promises made when the NHS law was forced through. Now we need to make sure every MP reads it, to convince them to sign the motion demanding these new privatisation rules are stopped. If MPs hear from thousands of us we can make sure that they sign up to block backdoor privatisation. Can you click here to send an email asking them read our legal advice and oppose the plans?https://secure.38degrees.org.uk/nhs-broken-promises The government says their ‘modernised’ NHS is supposed to be about giving more control to local doctors and communities. But under Jeremy Hunt’s new regulations, the government will force GPs to open up every part of local health services to private companies – whether or not it’s what they or local people want. And it’s not just us saying this. On Sunday, the Observer newspaper reported an explosive letter from the head of the Academy of Medical Royal Colleges to the health minister, outlining concerns that “healthcare will be disrupted and hospital services damaged as a result of time-consuming, disruptive and unnecessary tendering processes,” and that these new regulations are “at odds” with reassurances previously given to doctors. [6] These are hardly the voices of radicals or political opportunists – so what’s it going to take for MPs to sit up, take notice and admit that something’s not right here? Let’s seize this moment and ask our MPs to listen to doctors, patients, legal experts and concerned constituents, before they make a big mistake:https://secure.38degrees.org.uk/nhs-broken-promises We can stop this now, if we try. In the past week we’ve grown our rapid-response petition to over 230,000 signatures. We’ve chipped in to pay for expert legal advice. Now let’s make the talk in the halls of Parliament on Monday be about how many voters are getting in touch about these broken promises. Together, we can help those wavering MPs to find some backbone, and help even the diehard supporters of privatisation to realise the game is up.https://secure.38degrees.org.uk/nhs-broken-promises Thanks for using your voice, David, James, Hannah and the 38 Degrees team NOTES [1] The motion was originally tabled by Green MP Caroline Lucas, but then re-tabled co-sponsored by Lib Dem Andrew George and Labour leader Ed Miliband. [2] You can see the motion, and the latest signatures, here: http://www.parliament.uk/edm/2012-13/1104 [3] For example, Andrew Lansley sent a letter to prospective CCGs on 16th February 2012, during the height of the battle to get the Bill through parliament, in which he assured them, “I know many of you may have read that you will be forced to fragment services, or to put services out to tender. This is absolutely not the case.” See http://www.opendemocracy.net/ournhs/nicola-cutcher-lucy-reynolds/nhs-as-we-know-it-needs-prayer [4] https://secure.38degrees.org.uk/nhs-section75-legal-advice [5] Telegraph: Scrap NHS competition rules say 1000 in letter to Telegraph http://www.telegraph.co.uk/health/healthnews/9901194/Scrap-NHS-competition-rules-say-1000-in-letter-to-Telegraph.html [6] Guardian: Doctors bemoan NHS privatisation by stealth http://www.guardian.co.uk/society/2013/mar/02/doctors-bemoan-nhs-privatisation-by-stealth