Public views sought on plans to merge Caterham councils
The public are invited to vote and comment on whether the two councils should merge, if a new town council should be split into wards and how many councillors there should be."Your views will help shape the future of local democracy in Caterham," a Tandridge District Council spokesperson said.The consultation period runs until 29 August, with a second consultation phase planned for later this year.
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The Guardian
an hour ago
- The Guardian
Hannah Wurzburger obituary
My mother, Hannah Wurzburger, who has died aged 91, was an artist, printmaker and weaver who escaped Nazi Germany as a child on one of the last Kindertransport trains. Born in Berlin to assimilated Jewish parents, Edith (nee Herrmann) and Max Gibianski, a violinist and teacher, Hannah arrived in the UK in September 1939, aged five. Her brother, Manfred, had died of measles as an infant. Both her parents, as well as aunts and uncles, would be killed by the Nazis. Hannah stayed first in an abusive children's home, but completed her education at Stoatley Rough boarding school in Haslemere, Surrey, where she thrived. The school famously became a haven for hundreds of Jewish refugee children. From 1950 until 1954, Hannah studied painting at Farnham School of Art, known for its vibrant artistic community, then attended the Slade School of Fine Art in London. She completed her studies despite suffering a mental breakdown due to childhood traumas. After graduating, Hannah taught art in secondary schools in Nottingham and London, worked on a kibbutz in Israel and, through a fellow German-Jewish refugee, Daniel Wurzburger, met his brother Walter, a musician and composer, who had settled in London. Hannah and Walter married in 1966 and their twin daughters, Ruth and Madeleine, were born in 1967. The marriage was extremely happy, despite a 20-year age gap. During the 70s and 80s, Hannah continued teaching, raised her daughters and produced many designs for etchings and linocuts; one of them, Cockerel, is held in the V&A Prints & Drawings Collection. She enthusiastically supported the Kingston Philharmonia, Kingston's local orchestra, founded by Walter in 1974. An exhibition of her paintings was held at Kingston Museum in 1994. Hannah's still lifes, portraits and landscapes became increasingly abstract; she cited Cézanne: 'Treat nature by means of the cylinder, the sphere, the cone'. After Walter's death in 1995, she rediscovered textiles, joining a weaving group and producing many exciting pieces (exhibited at the Rose theatre, Kingston, in 2019). Her loose, experimental approach employed muted colours and yarn-layering to build up surface texture. Hannah later contributed to the Association of Jewish Refugees' Refugee Voices project as a Holocaust survivor. Throughout her life, my mother lacked confidence in herself and her creative talent. However, Hannah was a survivor, overcoming great odds to become artist, mother, teacher and create a loving and artistic home environment. She will be remembered as warm-hearted, eccentric and non-conformist with a great sense of fun. She is survived by her daughters, Ruth and me, and two grandchildren, Elan and Yael.
The Independent
2 hours ago
- The Independent
Why I, as a straight woman, will be marching at Trans+ Pride
I'm not a marcher at heart. I tend to panic in crowds or really anywhere without a good mobile signal if I'm not on horseback. I don't attend parades because they're usually too hot. In short, I'm like a rather pathetic indoor plant. Nonetheless, I will be donning tabard and face mask to steward the accessibility block of London Trans+ Pride: the 'plus' is to include anyone's identity; the mask protects the disabled marchers who lead the march. I'll be there with the many other non-trans people who have attended excruciatingly comprehensive training sessions on Zoom, all wanting to show support for a community who have been made Villain of the Week by a tiny yet overexposed force desperate to stamp on someone more vulnerable than themselves. Certainly, this was why my friend Sara and I first volunteered last year; neither particularly keen joiner-inners, both requiring continuous applications of SPF50 to safely set foot outdoors in July, but rendered so cross by what was being said about trans people in our name that we did what generations have done and channelled our Inner Aunt. Certainly not in The Handmaid's Tale sense, and perhaps slightly less in the formidable Wodehosian, but in allyship; caring about people who aren't your children, and fulsomely advocating for them. I had no idea what on earth to wear to a march, or who would be there, so I wore a wonderfully pedantic T-shirt made by my friend Helen Zaltzman for her language podcast The Allusionist, highlighting that the singular use of 'they' has been in use since 1375. In the lack of a protest sunhat, I wore a cap I'd won in a competition by the, erm, Equestrian Noticeboard. Shortly after I arrived, another steward said hello. It turned out that they worked for a very popular horsey brand and had been volunteering at Trans+ Pride marches since their child came out. Offering support to this march as a straight cisgender person matters (sorry if you dislike that term – please blame academic science). The unfolding campaign against trans people is a ringingly clear repetition of Britain's appalling treatment of gay men through the 80s and 90s. The highest-profile curb on trans rights came in April, when the Supreme Court ruled the legal definition of a woman is someone born biologically female. The focus on trans women – never trans men – narrows the idea of 'What is a woman?' to one that affects anyone who doesn't fit stereotyped femininity. When I was a contestant on Only Connect in 2022, someone tweeted that they were 'supporting the trans team', presumably because I am a very tall Second Alto with my dad's jawline. I took this as both a compliment and further proof that anyone who says 'You can just tell ' where appearance is concerned is unrelentingly stupid. The trans people I know are objectively more attractive than I am, for one. The 'gender critical' crowd's nonsensical rubbishing of anyone who seems different impacts us all – not just in terms of how we are perceived, but in taking us backwards. It is rolling back our humanity. The most moving signs I saw at last year's Trans+ Pride were those held by parents, warmly offering free hugs to people whose own parents didn't accept them. It reminded me of last month's exhibition of the UK Aids Memorial Quilt at the Tate Modern and everything I have learned about the Aids epidemic when families shunned their children or banished their partners. Being 'critical' of someone's right to exist is perilously close to fascism. The United States has shown where such anti-freedom legislation can lead in the shortest time. Rolling back on trans rights is a dangerous path – and one that entirely distracts from the real issue. No man, God bless them, needs to spend years transitioning in order to attack women. Anyone with that cruelty in mind can do so by simply walking through their front door. It is important for us to stand up now, however much we feel it doesn't affect us, because, truly, it does. In the years since Section 28 was ended, I've seen relatives' views on gay people evolve from 'He must be terribly sad' to greater understanding. It hasn't 'made' any of my straight relatives gay. My own understanding has evolved, too, because a side effect of Section 28 was breeding ignorance – and that despite the work Channel 4 did to quietly educate British kids through late-night documentary strands and Eurotrash. New rules suppressing trans discussion in schools, brought in by this Labour government, won't stop young people questioning their identity. It will only make them less safe – just as it did when 'gay' rang out as an insult across BBC radio and school playing fields. The legacy of Section 28 showed us Britain that suppression only wounds; it doesn't prevent. However much their identity might frighten you – or, perhaps, society's response to this identity – you cannot stop someone being who they are, only delay it. Nor can you make anyone what they are not. The government may have forgotten the sins of the past – even, and most shamefully, those among them who themselves are gay – but I have not. I have no wish to return to being the ignorant person I was, nor letting wildly over-amplified voices overtake society's reason. Life unquestionably has particular challenges for each of us, but those of us who are heterosexual and non-trans are lucky enough to be playing in society's default mode. Standing up for the rights of our fellows under challenging circumstances is not limited to the distant past. It continues to be the most British of values – and the right thing to do.
The Guardian
3 hours ago
- The Guardian
‘It's spectacular': volunteer Dorset divers see summer of surging seahorses
The divers emerged from the water smiling with satisfaction. They had found what they were looking for in the undersea meadows off the south coast of England. 'Seahorses are tricky to spot,' said Mark Fox. 'The seagrass sways and they blend into it pretty well. It helps if it's sunny and not too choppy but you have to get your eye in. When you see them, it's brilliant.' Fox is one of a band of volunteers (he is a semi-retired painter and decorator) helping survey the creatures that live in Studland Bay. Over the last two decades conservationists have worked hard to make conditions in the Dorset bay better for the seagrass – and thus the seahorses – including introducing almost 100 'eco moorings' that do not harm the habitat. Coming across a seahorse here used to be a rare event but this summer the divers have seen a surge in numbers, with 33 seahorses counted in one survey. 'It's spectacular to see so many seahorses here,' said Ken Collins, an emeritus fellow at the National Oceanography Centre (NOC) in Southampton. Collins has worked on globally important projects such as helping protect the water around the Galápagos Islands but is now a key member of the volunteer team monitoring the seahorses for the charity the Seahorse Trust. Studland Bay is a key spot in the UK for two species, the spiny seahorse and the short-snouted seahorse. The trust launched the Studland Seahorse Project in 2008 to try to boost help boost numbers and in 2019 the bay was designated a marine conservation zone. But a problem for the seagrass and seahorses is that the bay is also a fine area for boats to shelter in. 'And anchors tear out the roots of seagrass,' said Collins. 'It takes years to grow back.' Collins said there had been tension over the years with 'anti-conservationists', some with 'Trump-like views', who seemed to think the champions of the seahorses were intent on driving the boaters away. Relations have improved since the Studland Bay Marine Partnership was created in 2021, consisting of the Seahorse Trust, academics, boating organisations, community groups and local businesses. Sign up to Down to Earth The planet's most important stories. Get all the week's environment news - the good, the bad and the essential after newsletter promotion Funds were provided from the UK government and a Hampshire company that runs marinas, Boatfolk, to help set up 87 eco moorings, which are attached to the Studland Bay seabed without scouring it. Bare patches in the seagrass are starting to grow back. 'It's a long process but we're getting there,' said Collins. This week the survey team set up camp on a picnic bench at Joe's Cafe on South Beach before their dive. Volunteers, including a builder, a student and a usually desk-bound marine habitat project manager, hauled on wetsuits and scuba gear. Collins, not as young as he was, was not too proud to ask one of the younger divers to help zip him into his wetsuit. Jenny Mallinson, who used to run the aquarium at the National Oceanography Centre in Southampton, briefed the divers: when you spot a seahorse, don't take your eye off it or you will lose it; take a picture of the whole body so that the team can later try to identify if it is male or female; most importantly, don't distress the seahorses – if their colour darkens or they turn away, it's a sign that they are not happy and you should move away. Over the next three and half hours, three pairs of divers combed the seagrass, which lies about 100 metres out and 2 metres down and reported back to Mallinson. The total wasn't as dramatic as earlier this month but they saw seven, all spiny seahorses. Neil Garrick-Maidment, the executive director and founder of the Seahorse Trust, said they used to be pleased to spot one or two seahorses and often found none. 'Seven is brilliant. It is fantastic to start seeing seahorses back in Studland Bay. It has been an incredible team effort.'
