Time to stop digging (if you want to get out of the hole)

Now if you want to see the potential consequences of different organisations and agencies working in silos have yourself a water leak, or a gas leak – or to make life even more exciting, why not have both at the same time? This was our story last week. We had received a stern letter from our water provider who told us we were using 615 litres of water a day! They were now going to charge us three times the amount per month that we had been paying. There is only J and myself in the house and we don’t take eight baths a day, or use the washing machine 11 times or even use the loo 82 times a day, as they suggested we might be doing. We assumed there must be a leak somewhere, although nothing was obvious.

We did all the checks, as advised by the water company, and finally arrived at the conclusion that the leak could only be between the water meter situated on the pavement and our house. This was unfortunate, as it meant we were liable for the cost of repair. Thankfully our house insurance covers such eventualities. On Friday, a jolly and very optimistic water and drainage engineer called Henry arrived. He was very reassuring and confident he would soon get things sorted. As J left for work feeling assured the problem was well on its way to being solved and happily singing Bernard Cribbins to the engineer, I was left to deal with him.

At first this involved turning stop cocks on and then off, peering down the hole that contained our water meter and lots of muttering. It soon progressed to the digging of holes. Now our drive is made of concrete and, as I subsequently found out, concrete that is three inches thick. The first hole was very deep, but Henry persevered, found the water pipe, but no leak. As the water pipe was made of lead, he told me it would need to be replaced and that would require further holes to be dug. He used an electronic device to find the best place to dig hole number two and, sure enough, he discovered the other end of the lead pipe. ‘I will just cap this off and we can then narrow down where the leak might be’ he said. With that he got his pipe cutters out and proceeded to cut through the pipe.

Now Henry was smoking a cigarette at the time. As he cut into the pipe he said ‘I can smell gas’ and bent closer just to make sure, still with his cigarette in his mouth. He was very casual about it all and simply said he would call the gas board. An hour late, a gas safety officer called John appeared, set out his large ‘no smoking’ signs and every 15 minutes came and checked the house for any build up of gas. He also knocked on neighbours’ doors to let them know we had a gas leak. That went down well. Eventually we had four vans and six engineers; all of whom seemed to find Henry’s mistake very funny. They stood around scratching their heads, but didn’t actually do much. Henry called it a day, saying he would return when the gas folk had done the repair.

Some time later, they decided they needed to dig another hole, and work commenced. It soon stopped and when I asked why, they showed me the reason. There were cables and pipes, all belonging to different utility companies, and all of which were crossing each other or lying on top of each other making hole digging almost a work of archaeological dimensions. In turn, the gas folk cursed BT, the electricity folk and the water companies for the way in which they just dug their own trenches and holes, laid their pipes or cables with no regard whatsoever to what was already there. 

Whilst they did eventually find our gas pipe, this too was made of lead and instantly condemned. What they couldn’t find was where it joined the gas main. So, they dug a further hole, disconnected the gas from the mains, and said they would be back tomorrow to try and replace the pipe and reconnect us.

Yesterday they did return. After two more holes were dug, they were able to use a clever mole like machine to re-pipe the gas from the mains. We now need to go through the same appointment booking procedure with the water company again to get a new water pipe fitted. I asked the gas fitters if they would not refill the holes, so as to make it easier for the work to be carried out next week, but sadly I was told that wasn’t possible and they had to refill each of the holes and make good the damage they had done. And we still have a water leak. I cannot begin to describe my utter frustration. However, I did see what can be achieved when all stakeholders work together to achieve a desired outcome.

I was fortunate to take part in a ceremony to bury a time capsule at our new in-patient unit in Manchester. This is a £105 million development. The new facility is called North View and will provide 150 new in-patient beds. It is the first all-electric mental health unit in England, supporting the NHS’ overarching aim of becoming net zero. Right from the start, service users, carers, colleagues, regulators, colleagues from Manchester Council, the architects and the main constructors have worked together to design and future proof this state-of-the-art facility. Representatives from all these groups were invited to the ceremony, including children from three local schools who had won the competition as to what should go in the time capsule*.

North View is a series of interconnected very impressive two-storey building's. There are even gardens on the first floor. The design, finish and layout of rooms have all been decided by service users, cares and colleagues working with the contractors and project team. It was still an active construction site, so we were required to all wear PPE. Like our drive, there were still many large holes and unfinished parts of the building to be seen, but it is still on target to open in November this year. Hopefully our own building work will be completed then too.  

  

*The capsule was crammed-packed with many artefacts including: poems, newspapers, artwork, photographs, coins, stamps, a USB stick with videos and a timeline of the historical development of mental health services on the Manchester site. The time capsule portrays a snapshot in time which captures the spirit of our people, mental health services, history, and aspirations, for future generations to one day look back on. Who knows how different their lives may be?

Leadership is an opportunity to serve, not a trumpet call to self-importance

Many years ago I lived in Wales. I had a smallholding and enjoyed some of the best years of my life, being both a nurse and a hobby farmer. The house was located on the side of a valley and the views went on for miles. Most of the time the valley was quiet, with just the occasional tractor to be heard in the distance or the lowing of cattle and the calls of mother sheep trying to locate their lambs. That was until I got a pair of peafowl.

I had always wanted peacocks and eventually decided to get a pair. They came from Norwich. All those years ago it was quite common to buy live birds and have them delivered to your nearest train station. I was very excited when they came. They were stunning, the male had bright blue plumage and his missus speckled white feathers. 

However, their most striking feature was their call. It is a cross between a ‘meow’ and a ‘yowl’ emitted at full volume and which can be heard over long distances. It is unmistakable and once heard will be instantly recognisable thereafter. They were inclined to call at the slightest thing. Now I love the sound, but many people don’t and whilst it was fine in the Welsh countryside, they are not really suitable for urban environments. So when I moved to Manchester, they couldn’t come with me and were donated to friends. The couple are no longer my friends…

This lovely memory was sparked by reading the story last week of a Russian zoo that had sent a pair of peacocks to the frontline in Ukraine. This rather bizarre gift was aimed at lifting the mood of the Russian troops and allow them to find some spiritual tranquillity through contemplating and admiring the beauty of the birds. I may be completely wrong, but on the front line of what is an unremittingly brutal war, I’m not sure the continuous sound of a pair of peacocks screeching is going to help raise morale or bring spiritual tranquillity to the soldiers. Being a soldier at war is a high stress job.

And so, apparently, is being a politician*. Last week I read the story of how many politicians experience poor mental health and mental wellbeing. The story was prompted by the Prime Minister of Spain, Pedro Sanchez openly contemplating resigning, because he was mentally exhausted. He has eventually decided to stay on. It is the toxic nature of contemporary politics that seems to be taking its toll on our senior political leaders. Something noted last week by my former colleague at the University of Salford, Dr Ashley Weinberg. He is one of the few researchers who have collected data on politicians and their mental wellbeing. Ashley noted that ‘we want people in all kinds of occupations to be in the best possible frame of mind and state to do their work’, and ‘we are hearing many politicians now saying there’s only so long I can do this work’.

In recent times there have been many examples of skilled and experienced political leaders resigning because of the impact that stress has had on their health and wellbeing. In recent times Leo Varadkar, Jacinda Arden, Sigrid Kaag have all unexpectedly resigned cited how the pressures of the role impacted on their health and the wellbeing of their families. Likewise, in his resignation speech last week, Humza Yousaf described politics today being a ‘brutal business’ and ‘it takes a toll on your physical and mental health: your family suffer alongside you’. No one should be subject to the type of abuse these folk have reported experiencing while undertaking their public service.

In 2023 the Apolitical Foundation carried out a study with over 100 current and former political leaders. When asked, 41% of these folk reported having low or very low mental wellbeing. This is a much lower level of wellbeing than that reported by police, emergency fire and rescue responders and paramedics; professions consistently acknowledged as being high stress professions.   

Some of the pressure comes from long working hours, political accountability, often unrealistic public expectations, and managing situations like the Covid pandemic, global conflicts, the climate crisis and so on. These days, instant news-sharing on social media also plays a significant role in creating stress and harm. The ability for anyone to easily communicate with those in power or communicate their thoughts about those in power just adds more pressure. When email was first introduced in 1971, I would perhaps get two to three emails a day. These days I can get 50 to 100+ emails a day, and some of which are hurtful and verge on harassment. The same with social media. When Twitter (X) started in 2006, I would get just a few tweets a day, now it can often be 30 – 40 tweets, and again, some are not pleasant to read. I’m not famous, and only have a modest following on social media. I cannot imagine what it must be like for those folk constantly in the public eye.

I don’t know how we might improve this situation. I do know it certainly wouldn’t involve donating a pair of peafowl to each political leader. However, peacocks can teach us something. They have 15-20 different and distinct calls. Most are aimed at warning other peacocks of impending danger. Perhaps we all need to be more attentive when our politicians call out for help - folk like Pedro Sanchez - and collectively find ways of supporting them as people first and politicians second. In a very turbulent world, we need more of our political leaders to be physically and mentally well.

  

*I was amused to read that the biggest political peacock (or possibly turkey?) of recent times, Boris Johnson, was turned away from his local polling station after forgetting to bring acceptable photo ID with him. It was his government that introduced the ‘no ID, no vote’ policy in 2022.