Category: Health
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High Traffic Neighbourhood
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Took me an hour (as opposed to 10 minutes) to drive my lad home from school this afternoon, thanks in part to the High Traffic Neighbourhood (‘Improving access for HGVs’) in Southall ‘Green’.
Like a rat, I tried the side streets and back roads option and found those to be jammed, too, and Scotts Road - although confusingly still two-way throughout - is now No Entry from the eastern end.
I would have abandoned my car and got out and walked/scooted home, but there was nowhere to leave it - all the pavements (and even the double yellow lines) were parked on, or being used by, er, pedestrians.
The more virtuous brothers and sisters amongst us may righteously question why me and my lad weren’t scooting/walking anyway? Why are we driving when Southall is known for its traffic gridlock?
We have done it a couple of times. It takes us 40 minutes each way in fine weather. My lad would love to do it every day, I’m sure, although not in the wind, cold and rain. I don’t believe my dodgy feet/knees/hips/back would manage it daily, either.
And why are we going to a school so far away from where we live?
Well, it’s the best (and happiest) school in Southall. And it’s the one that is furthest away from the gasworks stink and toxic air. We wanted to give our little asthmatic boy some clean air five days a week, if we could. (Of course, we since found out the school is under the Heathrow flight path, and next to the smoky narrowboats moored on the canal….).
(In case you are wondering, the ambulance somehow squeezed down the middle of Western Road, fortunately no well-intentioned bollards or planters in the way.)
A Successful Home Delivery and the Lockdown/Lock-in.
My second son was born late Saturday night (what would normally have been my beer night) two weeks ago, after a short, but intense, labour.
He was delivered at home by two brilliant midwives, who were fully protected courtesy of customised #tinap bin bag aprons, unused clean air protest dust masks, and disposable gloves my wife stocked up on back in February when – without any scientific advice whatsoever – she somehow accurately foresaw the current coronavirus global pandemic somehow reaching the UK's shores (and airports). Practising prudent use of valuable PPE supplies, the midwives wore their own prescription spectacles to protect from splashes to the eyes. (This is, of course, not true. They had NHS supplied aprons, surgical masks, and gloves.)
Home delivery
Now, we've had our groceries, pizza and most other household and personal items delivered to our home, rather than dealing with the stress of actually going out and having to interact with other people, for years, so a home delivery of our new son might have seemed like an obvious choice.
But a home birth was definitely Plan B, and only came to be Plan A due to coronavirus related issues with hospital birth and childcare arrangements for our nearly six year old, which now favoured delivery at home.
Preparing for birth
My boss had told me a few days prior that 'home births are great, because you can make a cup of tea'.
So, I stocked up on tea bags, and prepared myself mentally and physically for the big day by repeatedly ignoring my wife's pleas to listen to her hypnobirthing mp3s on the expected role of the 'birthing partner' (whatever that is), and getting through the last of my beer stockpile in anticipation of several years of enforced sobriety (in order to deal with nighttime and next morning emergencies).
I'm just thankful we never got around to implementing my boss's idea for a work appraisal, because his multi-tasking expectations are clearly way beyond my capabilities.
Labour of birth
While I fully accept that I had the easiest job on the night (bar my nearly six year old, who thankfully slept through it all in the adjacent bedroom), I was very pleased the main bit was over relatively quickly (three hours) as my right arm and hand were getting tired.
To ease the pain of contractions, and in the absence of any pain relief other than 'gas and air', my wife insisted (on pain of death) that I massage her lower back for two minutes every three minutes.
In between massages/contractions, I had to top up her glass of filtered water and hold it to her lips for her to drink.
Birth
When the baby's head came out, slowly, I remember thinking it was weirdly like watching a picture coming out of a printer.
When he was out, I immediately noticed his testicles seemed abnormally large, the size of giant tea bags. (Turns out they were swollen with fluid.)
'He's a boy, he's definitely a boy!' I said.
I could have done with some gas and air myself at this point.
After birth
My wife has been pretty amazing through it all. I don't know how she copes with the lack of sleep, although I'm doing my best to make sure she gets a couple of hours whenever she can when she's not busy feeding baby.
I have done a few nappy changes. Son no. 1 is always delighted whenever his little brother pees all over me, which was really his main reason for wanting a little brother in the first place.
Lockdown/Lock-in
We're mainly homebirds, so the lockdown/lock-in has not been too bad for us. And we're lucky to have had everything we needed, including toilet paper, flour, use of our communal garden and area where we live for exercise, sunshine, unusually fresh air, and seeing red kites and egrets flying over, among other lesser spotted wildlife.
My eldest lad has suffered the most, as he misses his school routine and friends, which is compounded by his not realising that he would no longer be the centre of attention now his little brother is here.
Return To Work
I returned to work last week after my extended absence due to respiratory illness, which may or may not be related to three years of breathing the poisonous gasworks’ air.
I find I now have to literally climb over two rough sleepers camped outside the door of my workplace in order to get in. There is no more space in the nearby doorway, and the doorway around the side entrance is similarly occupied.
By my reckoning, we have five more rough sleepers than we did two months ago, or two years ago, or four years ago.
Meanwhile, Southall’s skyline is rapidly changing from terraced family houses to much-needed ‘genuinely affordable’ skyscraper studio flats, while ‘parklets’ are opening up in the posher parts of Ealing.
To be fair, I did see that the Bell regime have cut a deal with Compton’s foldaway bikes so that residents on the Copley estate can hire them without having to pay a membership fee, and improve air quality at the same time.
Southall Under Siege: The Neighbours From Hell
‘A lack of scrutiny,’ says John Freeman, Regulatory Services Officer at Ealing Council.
He’s talking about lessons to be learned from the council’s response to the new asphalt plant built in neighbouring Hillingdon borough in 2014.
‘We didn’t expect there to be so much odour from a new building, or so many complaints.’
Moving swiftly on.
Oppressive odour
The highly contaminated old gasworks site in Southall has been kicking up a stink, too.
Carcinogenic benzene and naphthalene, among a cocktail of polyaromatic hydrocarbons, heavy metals and particulates large and small, are in the air.
‘The odour is oppressive,’ says Damian Leydon.
There are twenty or thirty people in the room.
No one bats an eyelid.
Upset residents
Damian is the Operations Director at 'Southall Waterside', as the gasworks site is being marketed.
It's wedged between the grand union canal, Yeading Brook and Minet Park to the north-west of the site, and two of the twenty percent most economically deprived council wards in England. Southall Green to the south, and Southall Broadway to the north and north-east.
‘The last thing we want to do is upset residents,’ says Damian.
It’s a bit late for that.
Please stop
Damian previously worked as the Construction Manager on Hinkley Point C nuclear power plant in Somerset, and the Athletes Village at the 2012 London Olympics.
Presumably, there were no carcinogenic leaks, oppressed, or upset residents there.
Three times I ask Damian, ‘How many residents are you prepared to upset before you will stop?’
No answers
As for almost every question that night, at Ealing Council’s Air Quality Scrutiny Panel meeting in September 2018, there is no answer.
The meeting concludes, and later the ‘minutes’ are published, but such minutiae do not make the cut.
Was I at a different meeting?
The final report of the ‘scrutiny’ panel, six months later, reads as if the problem is in the past, finished, with yet more ‘lessons to be learned’ (and immediately forgotten).
Friends with benefits
As I leave the meeting, I see Damian having a cosy-looking chat in the corridor (of power) outside the meeting room with Julian Bell, Ealing Council's Leader.
Councillor Bell sat through the two hour meeting in silence.
I ask Julian if he’s booking his holiday in Cannes?
The south of France resort hosts the annual MIPIM property developers’ ‘booze and hookerfest’ (as Private Eye magazine calls it).
Julian is a regular attendee, all expenses paid for by Damian’s employer Berkeley Group, despite claiming to be teetotal. Peter Mason, my ward councillor, is a new attendee. He is not teetotal.
‘If my son gets cancer because of this, you better not stand so close to me,’ I say to Leydon.
He rolls his eyes.
‘David, don’t let’s make this personal,’ says Bell.
We can't breathe!
For two and a half years, my family, my neighbours and friends, have been harassed, attacked, and gassed in our own homes and gardens.
Our children have been forced to breathe ‘stinky’, poisonous air in their school playgrounds, and in our public parks.
We have been laid under siege through three hot summers, including last year’s extended heatwave.
Despite many repeated requests to stop, Damian’s uncovered, unenclosed cesspit of decontamination of a hundred years of toxic waste continues unabated.
Good neighbours
‘Be a good and respectful neighbour,’ says Councillor Mason, at the ward forum.
‘It’s unpleasant’ we are told. ‘It will clear in days, and it’s not harmful to health,’ Ealing Council namelessly tweeted. In June 2017.
Round and round we go.
Is this corrupt?
‘It’s the wrong kind of wind,’ claims Bell.
‘It’s not our responsibility, it’s the Environment Agency.’
‘It’s not us, it’s Public Health England.’
‘I’ll phone Julian and get him to put a councillor on it for you,’ Tony Pidgley, founder and chair of Berkeley Group tells us.
“Cash. Always cash.” (Tony Pidgley)
We started a campaign. Clean Air for Southall and Hayes. CASH for short.
‘I DO NOT TAKE CASH! I DO NOT TAKE CASH!’ is our MP Virendra Sharma’s frankly bizarre opening statement, shouted at us when we go to meet him.
What’s going on?
When is remediation NOT remediation?
Back to the future with John Freeman.
I email John to ask him when remediation of the soil (the cleaning of the contaminated land) is due to be completed. It’s the excavation, the turning, the moving of the toxic waste that has laid at rest for fifty years or more that we’re told is likely to be the main source of the odour nuisance and air pollution.
‘March 2019. It’s finished already.’
‘But it still stinks.’
‘Did you leave the cooker on?’
‘But I’ve seen the planning documents where it says remediation is scheduled to be completed in 2038.’
John consults his colleague, James Potter, Ealing’s Contaminated Land Officer, whose post was initially funded by none other than Berkeley Group.
A very simple explanation as it turns out.
‘The remediation for the next nineteen years is, in a sense, NOT remediation.’
Berkeley bribes?
Then there is the fact, confirmed (and denied) by Public Health England, that the majority Asian and African population of Southall, due to genetic factors, have an increased risk from exposure to naphthalene.
And then there’s Berkeley Group's track record of paying off their former finance director to keep quiet about allegations of bribery and corruption at the top of the company.
Understandably, we doubt the veracity of their own reports of the air quality monitoring data recorded by their business partner, data which they refuse to share with us.
Enough is enough.
Stop the work at the gasworks site while it is made safe.
Stop poisoning Southall.
Please donate to our legal campaign for justice: https://www.crowdjustice.com/case/cleanairforsouthallandhayes/
Inconsiderate Constructor
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Lorry driver on his phone while leaving ‘Southall Village’ building site, right next to school entrance during school run.
Got a load more verbals from the driver and his colleagues on site - ‘Did he hit anyone?’, ‘He doesn’t work for us!’
All part of the Considerate Constructors Scheme, aka Couldn’t Care Less Scam.
Louder than words
We are all consciously or unconsciously re-enacting previous unresolved experiences of loss, or absence, of relationships. These disappointments evoke in us resentment and anger, which control us until we can forgive - to see the victim in the perpetrator.
We remain victims all the while we are unable to forgive, and all the while we are unable to let people into our inner worlds of pain - to protect ourselves from breakdown, but also to protect other people from this part of our experience for fear of what it will do to them, and how they will react to us.
Had hearing test on Friday. 20% hearing loss in left ear. Ear canal is wafer thin in places, meaning wax build up. That, or a brain tumour.
My back is killing me and I’m practically crippled after being out in the rain all day training and coaching.
Thanks to FA 1st Aid trainer Richard Barnes for relating the story of how he had his left wrist cut through to the bone and dangling off.