Clark and the Feudal Spirit

I've been trying to decide whether Bertie Wooster's Aunt Dahlia, who was famously direct in her language, would have called the Rt Hon Greg Clark an inveterate scoundrel, a lying toad or a congenital idiot.

He was interviewed on Sky News last week.  When talking about the government's proposed National Planning Policy Framework on TV on 21st December, he said

"The purpose of the planning reforms is to have decisions taken by local people who know their area best. That is the reason that we are making these changes.  We want to see local decisions taken locally.  That's what we want to introduce."

Now this is not entirely true.  Indeed, what Greg Clark said is pretty much the exact opposite of the truth.

Let's try phrasing it accurately.

The purpose of the planning reforms is to dilute or remove decision taking capability from local people who know their area best.  That is the reason we are making these changes.  We want to see local people bypassed so that developers can build large numbers of houses across the green fields of England and hence, we desperately hope, give a boost to the economy.

Of course, we have to look at it from Greg's point of view.  He's an up-and-coming MP, hopes to have a glowing career in politics and so he is carefully toeing the government line.

It's interesting to watch him saying these sentences on TV.  As he speaks his eyes flicker and one may imagine he's thinking "I really hope I can get away with this brazen economy with the truth." His body language is so uncomfortable that I found myself thinking "The decent person inside Greg Clark is very, very uncomfortable with what his political persona is saying."  He looks in this interview a little like a rabbit in the headlights.  You can quite imagine that he's wishing he'd never taken up politics and that it may well be that he's only doing the interview because some party whip explained to him that in any political career you have to take a few tough interviews for the good of the government if you want to get anywhere.

Greg needs your help.  If he's to defend himself against these Party Schemers who have backed him into a corner, he needs some ammunition.  The best ammunition you could give him is a bunch of letters from voters across the land who are concerned that their hamlets are about to become villages, their villages to become towns and the green fields in the countryside will disappear under a mass of builders' concrete.

Then, when cornered by some party hack, he'll be able to pull out a few thousand letters and say "I'm not willing to sign up for unemployment benefit after the next election: are you?" and the political conniver will creep quietly out of his office.

So please do write to him.  He can be reached at the Rt Hon G Clark, House of Commons, London, SW1A 0AA.

I realise now I was wrong in the first paragraph.  Armed with  a few thousand letters opposing the government's ill-thought-through national planning framework, and letting his true self come to the fore, Greg will become a Man among Men.  Aunt Dahlia would no doubt rise to the occasion and, with a voice that could be heard in the next county, exclaim "My hero!"

Back to school

My parents are to blame.  Also my wife's parents.

They made each of us feel that the most important thing we could do for our children was to see that they got a good education.  I'm not saying we did perfectly in our attempts, but we certainly tried and it seems to me that the government should have a similar responsibility to the children of the land.

Right now.  Let's just leave that thought there for the moment.  I'll be back to pick it up before it goes missing.

I have watched with bemusement the various occupations of recent months.  Occupy Wall Street.  The St Pauls protesters.  One thing that does surprise me is that the authorities find it so difficult to remove the protesters.  I'm quite happy for the protesters to have their say but not day after day.  There are more important things to demonstrate about.

Like Education.

Which leads me back to the strikes planned for two days' time on 30th November.  For years, head teachers across the land have insisted to parents that their children's education is too important to be trifled with and that unexplained absences aren't acceptable.  Indeed, a good friend of mine recently put up on facebook the following

Dear Head Teacher



Thank you for your recent request for little Tommy to be absent from school during term time. As you have pointed out on several occasions, the school does have a strict policy on this subject. I therefore must decline your request.


(ref teachers striking on Nov 30th)

But what really can we do about it?

Given how important children's education is to their future, it seems wrong that it should be trifled with to make a political point.  Driving into work this morning, I wondered what would happen if parents initiated a protest of their own: perhaps choosing tomorrow to Occupy State Schools.  Perhaps little Tommy or Tamsin could take a sleeping bag and 36 hours' provisions with them when they go to school tomorrow and then refuse to leave - and indeed have their parents join them at the end of the school day?

I am not recommending this.  I just wondered what might happen, since I believe in education.  Blame my parents.

Unforgiveable

H

Well, H, you know who you are.

In the mid-1990s you had us around to dinner.  I don't remember the main course, but the dessert was a simply exquisite home-made ice cream.  Even as I write this, many years later, I find myself salivating at the happy memory, the subtle flavour, the delicious and sublime experience.  I clearly remember saying what a remarkable and excellent dessert it was and how much I had enjoyed it.

Clearly, the Code of the Hostess kicked in. On two subsequent occasions when we were invited to dinner, there was no sign of home-made ice cream.  I assume this is because the Code of the Hostess means that you are forbidden from ever serving the same thing twice.  Blow the guests: it's all about diversity.

Or did England run out of dairy products?

M

Well, M, you know who you are.  (You are not Margaret).

About ten years ago you invited us around for a meal.  You even did the decent thing, knowing what a fussy eater I am, by phoning up a few days beforehand to ask if I ate Mexican.  I clearly remember my reply "Everything other than beans."

So I was a little surprised on arrival to discover the meal consisted of a good deal of beans.  I suspect there was widespread starvation in Mexico that year as there were so many beans in the food.  I did look at the driveway afterwards to see of there were imprints from the tyres of the heavy lorries that must have been needed to deliver all these blasted beans.  Indeed there must have been a platoon of chefs and a portable kitchen required just to cook them.

I ate everything else on my plate and consequently all that was left was a plate filled to the brim with beans.  And a hungry me.  You need to remember advice given to trainee lawyers "Don't ask a question you don't know the answer to."  Strange though it may seem, when I said I don't like beans what I actually meant was I DON'T LIKE BEANS.

I am already working on the steak and kidney pudding for when you next visit us, little missy.  Lots of kidney.

R

Well, Big R, you know who you are.

It's amazing.  I won't see you for two weeks and yet the moment I open my lunch at my desk, there you are, having decided that the ideal time for a business discussion is when my mouth is full of sandwich.  Perhaps you don't like the replies I give you when my mouth is empty; possibly your preferred mode of conversation is a monologue; it may be that you have an astigmatism in your eyes that somehow makes food invisible.

Now this may be a flaw in me.  If one could go back a few million years and see my ancestors, crouched over their latest kill in the wild plains of the Serengeti, you might observe that they didn't like company while eating.  Typically this would have been because when your neolithic neighbour came across to ask how the hunt went, what they really meant was "Ooh, that looks delicious, can I have some?" and when it's taken you three weeks to hunt down the fleeting gazelle that was the best substitute available in those days for cornflakes and that only appeared on your breakfast menu because it was a sickly runt, the whole subject of sharing was something that people did not talk about in polite company.

I suspect those genes have passed down through countless generations to me.  So, Big R, listen carefully.  The only time I am happy to talk business over a meal is when you are paying.  I have a list of restaurants you could invite me to, available at a moment's notice.

I realise this limits you to only eight or nine hours a day we can chat but do be a good fellow and try.

Bad Science, Good Deal

A few years ago my older son gave me Ben Goldacre's excellent book, Bad Science.  It is, quite simply, the best non-fiction book I've read in the last 10 years.  For the rest of the week, the Kindle version is on sale at Amazon UK for just £2.49.  This is an outstanding bargain and if you don't yet have a copy, I thoroughly recommend it.

What's it about?  In essence, it's about how to make sense of a world where science meets homeopathy, how to detect fraudlent claims by politicians and people selling pills and cosmetics, how turmeric allegedly cures cancer and more.  It shows you how to be rationally sceptical without being paranoid.

An excellent read.

Whither Labour?

Wither Labour?

Well, here's the opportunity for you to say.  How do you feel about Labour's chance of forming the next Government? Just vote below!

No smoke

So Ed Balls thinks that he should suggest how we run the economy, does he?  This is the same person who was Gordon Brown's key adviser when the economy was being systematically run down under the last Labour Government.

Why would we put an arsonist in charge of the Fire Brigade?

3,000 More Houses in Hook?

The standard way that government imposes a controversial policy is the following.

1. Give it a really boring title.
2. Claim it's just a draft, for consultation.
3. Publish it during the summer holidays, or while MPs are distracted by party conferences or both.
4. Deride those who oppose it as NIMBYs.
5. Stress that the policy is in the national interest.
6. Claim opponents don't understand the proposal or are exaggerating.
7. Tell civil servants to start giving weight to the policy when making decisions, even before it is implemented.
8. Say that those who don't agree with the policy are creating myths.
9. Implement the policy and when people complain say "The papers were all published and you had plenty of time to comment."

All of these ruses have been used by the Government in the draft National Planning Policy Framework.

Let me explain what this policy would mean for Hart, and Hook.

First, the policy takes away most of the protection for green fields that previously existed.

Second, it says that councils must assess every possible need for a house for anyone who might be in the district or who might choose to settle in the district.  (This is called a Strategic Housing Market Assessment)

Third, the council must identify land where these houses might be built.

What change would this make for Hart and Hook?

At present, Hart District Council has draft plans to build 220 houses a year for 20 years: a total of 4,400.  Of these, about 500 might be built in Hook (this is one option, but not definitely decided yet).  Under the NPPF, Hart might need to identify enough land to build over 1,500 houses a year: 30,000 over 20 years.

Where would these houses go?

They can't go in and around Yateley (in the east of the district) because building there is restricted under European law.  So they would need to go in the centre and West:  Hook, Hartley Wintney, Fleet, Odiham, North Warnborough, South Warnborough, Rotherwick, Winchfield.

It's possible that 3,000 or more would be built around Hook, which would double the size of the village.  In fact it wouldn't be a village any more - it would be a town.  The most likely place to build these houses would be in the fields between Hook and Rotherwick.

Now perhaps that you think this is a good idea.  I clearly don't.  

You have the opportunity to tell the government what you think, whether you like the policy or you don't.  Here's how you can do this.

1. Read the draft document.  It's here.
2. Fill in the consultation response form here.
3. Write to your MP.  You can find out who your MP is here.

The government wants your response by no later than October 17th.  So don't be caught out - please write today.

Don't let Sir Humphrey win!

A Cat Cured My Headache

In the words of Dara Ó Briain  "Well, I know a woman and she had a terrible headache, and then she rubbed a cat on her head, do you know, two days later her headache was gone!" (He puts the case more forcefully and with NSFW language here.)


The point is this: there's a good amount of stuff that's marketed to us daily that has no evidence to support it whatsoever.


Now, I really shouldn't mention this because I work in marketing and it breaks the Code of Marketing BS but every so often there are claims made about products and services that just ... aren't ... true.


And we know this.  We see it often enough that everyone can think of a case.  

• These little pills will cure you.  How are they made?  Well we dilute the "active ingredient" 1,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 times in water.  Sure it will work!
• Detox shampoo.  Really?
• Yoghurt that optimises the release of energy from your diet. How?
• Homeopathy that can treat AIDS.
• Curcumin (a component of the spice turmeric) can cure cancer.

Some of these claims are foolish.  Others are dangerous.

Sense About Science is a charity that clearly and simply explains the facts when it comes to science.  They have started a campaign encouraging people to ask for evidence when they come across an unlikely claim.  It's called, unsurprisingly, "Ask for Evidence". 

Here's what you can do:

• Please read the link above: it will take you just a few minutes and may save you money or, even, your health.
• If you come across an unlikely claim, be sceptical.  It takes little time to ask the company for proof and you may help remove a dishonest claim.  If you do this, please let Sense About Science know.
• If you like the work that Sense About Science does, you could donate here.  They run an excellent organisation very efficiently.

If nothing else, you'll get a laugh reading about some ridiculous claims, and that probably does more to cure a headache than rubbing a cat on your head.

Footnote:  In a related area, there's also Ben Goldacre's excellent, humorous and immensely readable book, Bad Science, for those who'd like to delve more deeply into the subject.

Deliver Them from Evil

As a youngster I belonged to a gang. Indeed, at times, I was a gang leader. We’d go out at night and hide in the shadows, ride our bicycles along quiet streets and slip between pools of light.

I’d tell my parents “I’m going out with my gang” in the evening. Sometimes we’d “roof rattle”: throw stones onto the roofs of bungalows to make a noise and flee with mischievous glee the moment an angry householder opened his door to chase us.

After an hour or so we’d go home, have a bath and sleep the sleep of the not-so-innocent but carefree. I don’t remember how old I was, but probably the between nine and thirteen years old. It wasn’t that my parents didn’t care for me. I know they did. They just thought that I was having harmless fun with my friends and generallyI was – roof-rattling was uncommon. Most "gang meetings" involved James Bond type fantasies and building forts.  Indeed, if any adult had caught me misbehaving they would have spanked me and dragged me back home to tell my parents why and everyone knew this.

This memory has come back to me in recent days as I’ve seen the riots on television, the newspapers and the Internet.

My first reaction to the riots was one of rage at the wicked destruction and the apparent unwillingness or inability of the police to do anything.

Having had a few nights to sleep on it, my views have moderated.

First, I think it’s important to separate the wicked from the foolish. Someone setting a fire is wicked. Someone stealing a bottle of water or a bag of rice is foolish (indeed stupid). I hope that if something similar had happened when I was out with my gang we would have gone home and told our parents “There are Bad People out there.” But I can’t be sure that I wouldn’t have been swept up by the moment and with naughty juvenile glee at least gone along to watch.

I like to think of myself as a Law Abiding Citizen but when I see the stories of some previously blameless kids who did get involved I think “There but for the grace of God …"

I suspect this is true of many upright members of our community.

Our esteemed Prime Minister was a member of the Bullingdon Club while at Oxford. This club is notorious for trashing the restaurants it patronises, although I hasten to add that I have no idea if such behaviour occurred while David Cameron was a member. Speaking of another episode in his student life, David Cameron has said he has done things he "should not have done and regretted".

Haven’t we all?

Does this mean I think we should go easy on the rioters?

My answer is that “It’s a bit more complicated than that.”

I think there are some principles we should apply.

First off, if we’re dealing with someone aged under 21 who has a previously blameless record and is accused of a relatively minor offence, then I think the sentence should be relatively minor also - but should involve the offender in paying recompense to the community. For example, sentencing someone like this to spend their leisure hours for several months cleaning graffiti or picking litter would help them better serve their community. It would also give them the chance to think over what they have done and why it was a bad idea. There are dozens of such tasks that could be done in the community: weeding the pavements, cutting the verges or fixing potholes.

Next, put the remainder of offenders, except for the most serious ones, into work. What kind of work? For one thing, there is a lot of highway that needs repairing around the country. There are always litter bins that need collecting. There seems to be a constant demand for roads to be dug up for laying or fixing pipes.  According to the National Audit Office, there is a good deal of military accommodation that needs refurbishing: why not get some of the physical work involved done by these offenders?

So include one offender at a time in groups like these, where they will be surrounded by honest people. There is a twofold aim here: to isolate the offenders among hard working people, as well as making them pay for their offence “by the sweat of their brow”.

For the rest – the organisers, the ones who set fires, the ones who were violent – the standard course of justice is the best I can recommend.

But the key proposal above is not for the wicked, but those who might get caught up in wickedness temporarily and who might well be reformed by a punishment that makes them give back to society to make up for what they have taken.

Would that approach bring to heel the riotous evenings of the Bullingdon? I cannot say for sure, but I expect it might. Would it have stopped the little “gangster” me from roof-rattling? Absolutely!

A Reef Too Far ..

I have the pleasure of presenting another guest post by my travelling correspondent ...

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A Reef Too Far

In April I made a fool of myself and nearly drowned in the process.

After a glorious four days in Tonga celebrating the wedding of a distant niece into a  Tongan family, the guests had started to depart and we had another week to enjoy the sun and sand before leaving ourselves.

We had had a wonderful time meeting family members and friends of all colours, ages and cultures. When one of the party offered me the use of his snorkel I was delighted and went down to the beach with my wife for a short swim and then a read under the trees. It was warm, with the sea and the sky a matching blue and the reef a long low white wave about 250 yards out. Perfect. I'll swim out about half way and look at the fish and coral. About a quarter of an hour say.

Head down in the water I drifted out watching the sea floor of undulating broken coral. Disappointingly few fish and the coral looked dead. The swimming was easy (too easy as it turned out) and then the coral suddenly rose up close to me and in front the sea was suddenly swarming with fish including some very big black ones. In my head alarm bells rang, I shouldn't be here I thought. I realized why the swimming had been so easy.... I was being swept out on a rip. Way out.

I turned to swim back but through my mask the coral beneath me was moving in the wrong direction. I was swimming towards the shore but the rip was stronger, pulling me backwards, out to sea! The shore was not getting any closer. In fact it was receding! 

On the beach my wife was getting anxious. I had been so long. She went down to the shore line and looked out to sea but could see nothing.

In the sea, swimming was not working, I was still going backwards, so (humiliation) I started to call for help. But I was a long way out and, as far as I could see, no one took much interest so I concentrated on the swimming. What I realised was that I was actually outside the protection of the reef and in the open sea and very exposed. I briefly debated the best means of defence when attacked by a shark.

To save energy I swam on my back looking at the clear blue sky while periodically calling for help. Had to be careful, at one point I found that I had turned round and was swimming back out to sea again.

I was totally out of my depth rising up and up and then down and down with the waves. I came across some coral just below the surface and hoping for a rest, was momentarily able to stand up. Relief! But then a big wave knocked me down. It did however, push me towards the shore  but then a terrible undertow pulled me further out again. I tried to hang onto the coral with my hands but the current was too strong. I started to breathe salt water coming down the snorkel tube. Not good. Spat out the tube. A reasonable swimmer shouldn't drown, should at least be able to float!

When I looked towards the shore I could see people resting on the golden sand under the palm trees and splashing in the sea and having a good time, but no response to my calls.

My wife, however, had heard me and was summoning assistance and I could see someone in a kayak set out from the shore. Was he coming to me though? Or just going for a joyride perhaps? To me I hoped, things were getting to be a bit of a struggle and help would be very welcome.

Thankfully, he was suddenly close, indicating to get onto the back of the kayak. I scrambled on but there were no handholds and I slipped and tumbled over the top headfirst into the sea on the opposite side. The boat drifted away from me and I went under. I surfaced, grabbed it and pulled myself on the back again. I heard a big crack in my chest as I did so, guessed that I'd cracked or broken a rib. He fell off this time but I was able to sit in the kayak seat and he then tried to get on behind. Whoops! back in the sea again. It was getting harder and harder to get on the damn thing but I eventually got back in the seat again and he was telling me what to do from the water. Then the big waves started to hit us as we crossed the reef and we came off again. Getting there though.

We now had to cross the 250 yards of water to the beach. Even that was hard to do. The sea was rougher than I expected and it's a long way but even as it got shallower the sea floor is rough coral, uneven and impossible to stand up on.

When I did eventually get in it seemed that I'd been in the water for hours although it hadn't been that long in fact. My wife was on the beach with the owner of the resort and I was never more pleased to see her. Her welcome wasn't quite as warm as I had expected, but then again, she had had a worrying time!

I later bought my rescuer a drink and heard that only yesterday sharks were seen where I had been. And the ribs? Yes, still painful, must have cracked them and it's put a stop to any swimming or vigorous exercise for a while. My wife, for some reason, seems quite pleased.

David Burke

Don't Hurry Love

I grew up in Africa where the mail system is somewhat different to the UK.  If I wanted to post a letter from one town to another, I would have expected it to take a week or two.

No, that wasn't a typo: I did say a week or two, even if the distance involved was perhaps 20 miles.  That's how mail worked and what seemed normal to me.  It was therefore a revelation when I came to the UK and found that most mail should be delivered overnight.  And that you could be confident that it would arrive.

However, recently I had to send some important papers to South Africa and so I thought I had better use a courier, both for security and speed.  I will not say which courier, but the clue is in the title.

The pickup was ordered on Tuesday for Wednesday collection. 

The picture above is taken from the web site and shows that in two days the parcel has got as far as Heathrow Airport.  According to Google Maps, this is a journey of under 30 miles.  Google Maps also has a cute feature that estimates how long it would take to walk that distance.  Here's what they say

Yes, that's right: If the courier had walked it would take less than seven hours.

At this rate, I calculate the parcel will be delivered in a bit over a year. 

Consequently I feel a little aggrieved at being charged £45 for "courier delivery".

It takes me back to my childhood, where post was a "hit and miss" matter and I have to say I have noo feelings of nostalgia for this kind of service.

Don't Hurry, Love.

UPDATE

The bloggers code of ethics compels me to add the following update to this fast-moving story (and parcel).

As shown above, the parcel has now arrived in Cape Town.  This journey of about 6,000 miles, was apparently done in 3 hours, or approximately at an average speed of 2,000 mph.  That's 50% faster than Concorde.  I can only think that the courier company, in response to my original blog, purchased an SR-71 Blackbird to peform the delivery.

I am impressed!

Referendum Myths and Irrelevancies

I am annoyed at the pathetic levels to which both campaigns have stooped and - in something of a rush - I've picked out some of the worst arguments from both sides.  Anyone want to add to these?

FPTP is Fairer / AV is Fairer

An argument can be made for both systems on the basis of fairness.  FPTP does select the single most popular candidate.  AV does select the candidate that has the broadest appeal. 

What neither campaign is saying is that a lot of the time, AV and FPTP will select the same candidate:

•  When one candidate gets 50% + 1 vote on the first round
• When the leading candidate on the first round manages to get to 50% + 1 vote after votes have been redistributed in subsequent rounds.

I don’t know and I haven’t done the analysis, but I expect that most MPs elected at the last election under FPTP would have been elected under AV.

AV is complicated

Oh, it so is.  Especially if you struggled to get past junior school.  However, for anyone who manages something as simple as working out what to serve at a dinner party (“Stephen doesn’t like curry and Amy is lactose intolerant so let’s serve chicken and vegetables”) it’s a breeze.

Really.

The No Campaigners are Bullies

Life is hard.  Get over it.

AV is Expensive

First off, the No2AV campaign count the cost of the referendum itself: that's outright misleading.  Second, they make some big assumptions about the costs of AV.

AV probably will be a bit more expensive to run than FPTP.  But in terms of government expenditure, the amount is tiny: a fraction of 1% of the education budget, for example; a miniscule fraction of a fraction of 1% of the overall government budget.

Hardly Anyone Uses AV

A challenging point for two reasons.

Firstly, if we are to look at which is the most popular system of government in the world today, we’d probably come up with repressive dictatorships.

Second, one of the few governments using AV is Australia and their economy is doing very well, thank you.  If that’s what AV delivers, I’ll have it now, please.

Under AV, MPs will have to work harder

Oh yes, this is a lovely one to play to the angry voters after last year’s scandal.  Unfortunately, it’s not true.  There would still be plenty of safe seats (although some of them would change hands).  More importantly, there would still be plenty of hard working MPs.  My own MP has one of the safest seats in the land and yet remains immensely hard-working and never complacent.

…

That’s said, how will I be voting?

I’m not 100% set one way or the other.  However, I am leaning towards AV: it seems to me that  a system designed to get the approval of the broadest number of voters has a lot to recommend it.

Boxing clever

Today I feature a guest post by a friend of mine, David Burke.
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In Praise of Stand-Alone Post Boxes

There is a Western European nation that suffers long, damp, moderately cold winters. To reduce energy use, it builds new houses with double glazing, walls, roofs and floors with high insulation levels and requires high performance gas boilers. Grants are available to upgrade existing houses. In some cases external doors are insulated. 

This same nation, having done all it can to reduce the carbon footprint of the house, then permits a hole of about 50mm by 300mm to be cut in the external door. This hole is usually fitted with a metal draught flap (sometimes a poor performer) which, after occupation, is often held open, sometimes all day thus obviating much of the benefit of all that energy saving construction. 

The Western European nation is, of course us and as you will have guessed I'm talking about the letter box. The letter box as we know it, is a bit of a villain really. Not only does it lose energy when the flap is held open all day with letters, but it requires the postman walk all way from the road to the house to make a delivery, it's often in an awkward position requiring the deliverer to perform minor gymnastics and once found it can have a nasty bite, scraping hands and fingers. And that is without taking account of the dog behind the door!  And, of course it provides a welcome starting point for the burglar. So why do we do this? Is the no other way of dealing with the household delivery of letters and papers?  

Well, I have no answer as to why we do it, except perhaps that we have always done it.  But there is a way to over come the problems presented by our little friend, the letter box. 

In Australia no front door has a hole cut in it. Or in New Zealand. I don't think that they do it in the USA either (to name but a few). Instead, they provide a letter box at the road side. Sometimes lockable, sometimes not.

The benefits include :-

1. Reduced energy loss
2. Reduced price for the door
3. Reduced carbon for postal delivery as times are reduced and they can often be be done by bicycle
4. Improved efficiency for Post Office as productivity will rise.
5. Improved security
6. Improved convenience as deliverers will have easy and simple access to the delivery point.
7. Reduction in the minor injuries that badly placed and awkwardly designed letter boxes cause.

Set against this are two things: the cost of providing an external box, although this will be partly  offset by the savings to the door, and our cultural wish to have our post delivered to our front door.

If you don't want to do a something then you will always be able to show it can't be done, however I think that the benefits to the nation, of providing kerb edge post boxes far outweighs any initial cost. And the culture? Well how long ago was it when the dustman went round to the back of your house to collect your dustbin? And what happens now?

Finally, the photos (from Australia) show post being delivered by a man on a Honda moped, as well as various post box designs one showing the savings for the post man of not having to walk the length of a huge drive to deliver a letter.      

So there are health and safety advantages, there are energy saving benefits, and there are convenience benefits. Even in these straitened times these seem good enough reasons to me to promote a change in the building regulations.  And, of course, the postal service benefits although I'm not sure that you can make a building regulation for that!

D. J Burke FRICS (Rtd) 

50p to set us free

It wasn’t meant to be like this. Just a year ago Mervyn King was expecting inflation to drop back to its 2% target. Instead it’s well north of 5%. Petrol prices are up. The economy is stagnant. While the press and BBC have daily stories about “cuts”, no one talks about the fact that, even with these cuts, government debt continues to pile up and will do so throughout this Parliament.

It’s time to make the one cut needed to kick start the economy. This isn’t the cut of red tape, although that is desperately needed.

It’s time to take 50p off the price of fuel.

Doubtless civil servants at the Treasury will explain this is unaffordable. The opposite is true.

Lower fuel prices will help everyone: the worker paying a lower bus fare, the business on the edge of bankruptcy facing lower costs, the price of practically anything bought on the high street.

By helping the economy, it will lower government payments to the unemployed; it will increase profitability and tax revenues; it will create employment and consequently generate income tax and NI payments; it will help squeezed councils cover the costs of bin collections; it will help rural workers afford travel to their jobs.

It will drive down inflation so that those in poverty are less hard-pressed; those in the middle class will be able to spend more (or pay off debts faster); those looking for bank loans will be better able to justify them.

It will make the UK a better place to do business and make existing UK businesses more competitive overseas.

It’s win-win-win-win-win.

Can the Treasury see it? Write to your MP and tell him to pass on the message:

“Take 50p off fuel and set our economy free”