Eight people rescued from Wolverhampton fire
The service said there was also damage to the roof of a property next door. It said: "A structural engineer attended the scene and worked with representatives from Wolverhampton Council who boarded the property and installed a perimeter fence, due to the extent of the damage."Crews returned for two overnight operations to monitor for hotspots.
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BBC News
2 hours ago
- BBC News
London 7/7 Tube survivor shares 20-year impact of terror blasts
"It's taken me 20 years to realise all the things you do, how you think, stems from what happened on that day," said Marina Berry-Dealey. On 7 July 2005, the then 20-year-old was taking part in her usual commute from Hertfordshire to Leicester Square in the heart of London's West End when a bomb went off, plunging her Tube carriage into smoke-filled was one of a series of suicide bombings which struck the capital's public transport system during the morning rush hour, killing 52 people and injuring more than 700. "I think it almost rewired my brain from a PTSD perspective - I do catastrophise the little things most people wouldn't give a second thought," she said. "Because what are the chances of a bomb being on a train? And when it does [go off] and you're there and witnessing the trauma of that situation, you do naturally over-think every scenario." The attack was the worst single terrorist atrocity on British soil:26 people died in the bombing at Russell Square on the Piccadilly linesix died in the bombing at Edgware Road on the Circle lineseven died in the bombing at Aldgate on the Circle line 13 died in the bombing on the number 30 bus at Tavistock SquareMrs Berry-Dealey spoke publicly for the first time on her husband Justin Dealey's BBC Three Counties Radio arrived at London's King Cross railway station, she got on to a packed underground train shortly before 08:50 BST."The doors closed, the train moved out of the station and it must have been 10 seconds before the explosion," she said."I remember hearing a loud bang - well more of a pop - it felt like something was on the roof above us and all the lights went out."It filled with smoke and that's when the panic set in with everyone." Almost immediately, she could hear people screaming in the carriage in 40-year-old said: "I knew there was smoke and I could feel intense heat so I thought it was a fire."I was looking around the carriage and seeing people who were very visibly distressed, but were keeping it under wraps because there was screaming going on."Everyone's eyes were stinging from the smoke and the lack of information was adding to their about 40 minutes, firefighters appeared."They got us from the door down the tracks - the next stop was going to be Russell Square, but the front part of the train bore the brunt of the bomb, so they walked us back to King's Cross."And everyone was just in shock because nobody knew what it was and no-one had any answers to anything." Mrs Berry-Dealey emerged from the Tube station blackened by soot and unable to let her loved ones know she was OK because her mobile phone needed charging.A man thrust his phone at her and insisting she used it, so she was able to call Mr Dealey, her boyfriend of a year, as well as her mum. Mr Dealey told her to walk to a pub opposite Euston railway station where he would pick her up and take her home. She said: "Of course it wasn't open at that time, but I knocked on the door, they saw me covered in black, they let me in, locked the door again. "They were really kind, sat me down. I was able to charge my phone in there and that's when they put the big TVs on and we started to see the bigger picture."A short distance away was Tavistock Square, where the bus was blown up. Mrs Berry-Dealey said she was soon under pressure to return to work: "The bomb attacks were on a Thursday and by the following Monday afternoon, I was getting calls saying my work was piling up and they needed me back."She returned on 14 July, accompanied by Mr Dealey during the commute. She secured some early morning counselling through the NHS, but she "was told quite plainly [by her employers] it was a bit of an inconvenience doing the sessions, so I think I did two and that was it"."I do wish I'd gone to the counselling sessions, I think it would have helped me," she said, adding that she believed workplaces would be more supportive 20 years on. One long-lasting impact is she cannot leave home without a fully-charged mobile. She said: "It's a problem. I almost get palpitations at the thought of being cut off from the outside world and unable to contact my loved ones."More positively, her treatment by her employers pushed her to pursue the career she had always wanted and become a TV presenter and singer. "Every year I feel very sad on 7 July and I don't feel there's enough done to remember the victims and everybody who lost their lives or was injured. They're in my thoughts," she said."There was one person who I remember very clearly, Phil Beer. I remember how vibrant he was and very sadly he lost his life that day."While they never spoke, they shared the same Hertfordshire commute and he "shifted the mood for more people than me on a morning".Hair stylist Mr Beer was on his way to work at a salon in Knightsbridge when he was killed in the Piccadilly line bomb blast. "Twenty years is a long time and it's taken me this long to actually be able to talk about that day publicly," she said."It becomes part of who you are - I think it changes you as a person." Follow Beds, Herts and Bucks news on BBC Sounds, Facebook, Instagram and X.
The Guardian
2 hours ago
- The Guardian
‘We have no support': foster carers take employment rights fight to UK supreme court
Louise* starts her workday getting the children breakfast and ready for school. After drop-off, she attends meetings, completes training and works through a growing pile of paperwork. She's also on standby as there's almost always a call to collect a child if there's been an issue at school. Then there's everything else that comes with parenting: GP and dentist appointments, buying clothes, arranging therapeutic support, and managing what's known as 'contact' with the children's birth parents. The problem for Louise, and thousands of foster carers across the country, is that they are not considered to be workers. Although their jobs are vital, this lack of recognition means they have no annual leave, no sick pay and no guarantee they won't face consequences just for raising concerns. 'It is a 24-hours-a-day job,' said Louise, who has been a foster carer for 14 years. 'I've had to take children to hospital. I've had a particular child who has been bed-wetting, so then I'm up changing beds. Or I've got a child that really cannot sleep.' Esme*, who has been fostering for more than a decade, said she and her husband had calculated their earnings at just 80p an hour. 'We must be the most exploited workers in the country,' she said. 'We care 24/7 for some of society's most vulnerable children, follow care plans, attend meetings, keep records, do training, be on hand for surprise inspections, yet we have no rights or protections whatsoever. Most foster carers are relying upon universal credit to get by.' Carers told the Guardian that while the role had professionalised over the past 30 years, pay and conditions had not kept pace. Chloe*, another foster carer, described the constant fear of children being removed if they raised concerns. When a disciplinary case is opened, 'you just have to back down and pray that it comes out in your favour'. All three women spoke only on the condition of anonymity due to fear of reprisal from the agencies and local authorities they work with. In January, three foster carers won a landmark legal case, with a tribunal judge ruling they had the right to bring discrimination and whistleblowing claims to an employment tribunal. Now, they are taking their fight for full employment rights to the supreme court. 'At the moment, they treat these people as glorified babysitters that they can just kick out when they feel like it,' said Robin Findlay, the founder and general secretary of the National Union of Professional Foster Carers (NUPFC). 'That's why there are more foster carers leaving than there are joining. 'Some local authorities say 'well, they're not employees, so we don't have to treat them like one. They're self-employed. We can call them in when we need them and get rid of them when we don't.'' The NUPFC was launched in 2017 and operates around the clock. 'We have a morning briefing at seven in the morning and a night-time briefing at 10 o'clock at night – seven days a week,' Findlay said. He described how carers who repeatedly asked for more support or funding often faced retaliation. 'Those on the panel will have been briefed from the start: 'We've got to get rid of this one, she's a troublemaker.' She's asking too much, more money for shoes, for this and that, and it's affecting their profit margin.' Anger is growing over the rising role of private equity in the sector. Nearly a quarter of all foster placements in England are now provided by private companies making millions in profit. Foster carers say they are being squeezed while corporate agencies cash in. Esme criticised independent fostering agencies openly advertising that struggling carers could apply for universal credit, while making a fortune off the back of their labour. 'No one working 24/7 should be left struggling to cover their basic living costs,' she said. 'British taxpayers are paying twice: once for the overpriced foster placements bought from private agencies, and then again for benefits to cover foster carers' basic living expenses. 'The benefit system is propping up this entire broken model. That should be enough to cause public outrage.' The number of foster carers in England has now sunk to a 10-year low. Clare Ward, who recently stopped fostering after 13 years and is a representative for the FCWU, said: 'Foster carers are leaving in droves and it's not just because of the finances. It's because of that lack of respect, and we have no rights to protect us. 'We bring so much skill, experience and education to the role. People think we are providing essentially bed and breakfast and a loving home to children, but in reality we're running minor mental health units 24 hours a day in our homes with the country's most vulnerable children who have all been traumatised. And we're asked to support and advocate for these children without any power. We often end up vulnerable and traumatised ourselves. We have no support.' Ward is backing a campaign for a bill of rights for foster carers, including an independent central registration body to uphold professional standards and prevent local authorities or agencies from 'weaponising' children against carers. 'If you've got children that you're looking after but you've got a major issue with your employer, or say you're burnt out, you're exhausted, whatever it may be, they'll say 'we'll have to take the children off you then',' she said. 'And these could be children that you've loved for years and years. So you struggle on. That's really hard. There needs to be independent support.' Ward described the current system of allowances as a postcode lottery. 'You're constantly on the cliff-edge of financial ruin,' she said. 'In some areas, foster carers are paid by the household rather than by the child. So you might be looking after three children, and you're being given the same allowance as somebody looking after one.' *Names have been changed
BBC News
2 hours ago
- BBC News
Huddersfield 7/7 survivor was 'in right place at the wrong time'
A survivor of the 7/7 London bombings whose actions helped save other passengers says she believes she was in the "right place at the wrong time".Julie Imrie was on her Piccadilly line commute to work 20 years ago when a series of bombs were detonated on London's public transport system, killing 52 people and injuring hundreds aged 22, it was Ms Imrie's actions that were credited with saving the life of fellow passenger Paul Mitchell after she tied a tourniquet around his damaged about the horror, Ms Imrie, from Huddersfield, said: "In that moment when I realised I was still alive, I was like this is survival mode, you need to help people." Ms Imrie had been sitting in the front carriage of the packed train between King's Cross and Russell Square when Germaine Lindsay - one of the four suicide bombers responsible for the attacks - detonated his bomb just after it pulled out of King's Cross recalled being "blasted backwards" and thinking: "I am having a nightmare, this is not real".She said: "I opened my eyes and it wasn't a nightmare."I turned to my right to look at where this sound had come from and I saw this huge fireball coming towards me and I remember looking at it and then turning away. "I remember thinking I am going to die, I'm going to be with my grandma and grandad, and that was the last thought that I had." Afterwards, Ms Imrie described how the carriage was "plunged into darkness" and "the moans and really quiet noises started at first and then grew louder".She said: "People were very seriously injured. They were in so much pain, people were screaming for help."At this point, Ms Imrie realised her legs were entwined with a man who was sitting directly in front of her."We started speaking and said hello and introduced ourselves and he said his name was Paul Mitchell."We just started talking and it became clear that his leg was very seriously injured and he was losing a lot of blood." Using her coat, Ms Imrie tied a tourniquet around his leg with other passengers passing down different items to help stem the flow of blood."At this point I tried to reassure people as well and say look, everything is going to be OK, something has happened but we are going to be OK, help will be on its way," she said. After about 45 minutes of being trapped, they were rescued by emergency services. Ms Imrie recalled walking out of the wreckage barefoot and holding the hand of fellow survivor Matthew the following days, she and Mr Mitchell managed to reconnect, leading to a lasting friendship borne out of tragedy."We saved his leg and ultimately his life and he always thanks me every 7 July."She added: "I remember when he got in touch to tell me he was going to be a dad and how emotional and pleased I was for him and to know I was able to make that difference." After the attacks, Ms Imrie, who had moved to London the previous year, no longer felt safe and returned to Huddersfield - ironically the same hometown of the 19-year-old bomber who blew up her is a shared link that Ms Imrie has struggled with especially since she now works in a school near to one which Lindsay attended."I work with staff who taught him and who knew him, so that's a constant reminder about what happened."Ms Imrie said she was "proud" and "so glad" she was able to help on 7 July 2005. "I really firmly believe on that day I was in the right place at the wrong time and I was able to do what perhaps other people may not have been able to do, which is completely understandable."She added: "Having those close to me around me at this time of year means the world."I'm in such a lucky position to have that. So many people who went through 7 July, the victims and their families, don't have that so I really appreciate this second chance of life." Listen to highlights from West Yorkshire on BBC Sounds, catch up with the latest episode of Look North.
