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Dog owners warned after fishhook find at walking spot
Dog owners warned after fishhook find at walking spot

The Independent

time23-07-2025

  • The Independent

Dog owners warned after fishhook find at walking spot

Police have issued a warning after dog treats laced with concealed fishhooks were discovered in popular walking spots across South Wales. Incidents have been reported in Blaen Brab Community Woodland in Cwmbran, Gwent, and Castle Meadows in Abergavenny. Pet owners shared warnings on social media, with one dog in Abergavenny requiring emergency surgery after ingesting the laced treat. The fishhooks were found embedded inside bone marrow chew sticks, making them difficult to detect. Gwent Police are conducting patrols and urging dog owners to remain vigilant and report any suspicious findings.

The Great British culinary tour: From haute cuisine to street eats, the best foodie destinations by rail
The Great British culinary tour: From haute cuisine to street eats, the best foodie destinations by rail

The Independent

time18-07-2025

  • The Independent

The Great British culinary tour: From haute cuisine to street eats, the best foodie destinations by rail

If your idea of the perfect trip away revolves around delving into the best local food and drink then you'll find plenty of options to satisfy your appetite in Britain, all easily accessible by train. Whether you're looking for an unforgettable Michelin-starred experience or want to discover the most exciting new street food, there's a culinary destination to suit every foodie. To help make your foodventures even easier, and save cash better spent on delicious eats and treats, Railcard offers a third off rail travel around Britain. With nine Railcards to choose from, saving customers an average of £172 a year, it pays for itself in no time. Find the one for you at Read on for our guide to the country's best culinary experiences so you can get planning your next foodventure… Abergavenny Each September Abergavenny plays host to a famous food festival that attracts over 30,000 people. But this Monmouthshire town has enough to keep hungry travellers happy all year around. In the centre you'll find inventive seasonal small plates at The Gaff, upscale cuisine at the Oak Room and delicious breakfasts and lunches at The Art Shop and Gallery. Two miles east, The Walnut Tree combines sleek interiors and art-laden walls with Michelin-starred cooking from chef Shaun Hill. While strolling around the town you'll find artisan bakeries (look out for The Angel Bakery), delis, butchers and cheese shops (the famed Madame Fromage). Perfect for stocking up on tasty treats if you're planning on climbing Sugar Loaf Mountain, or for foodie souvenirs to enjoy back at home. Nearest station: Abergavenny, about a 15 minute walk from the town centre Cartmel, Cumbria Aside from the scenery, the main attraction in the Cumbrian town of Cartmel is the equally stunning cuisine. At three Michelin-starred L'Enclume, sustainability is at the core of Simon Rogan's cooking, with ingredients picked daily from the restaurant's 12 acre farm. Diners can expect to sample dishes like seaweed custard topped with oysters and dressed with beef broth. For something really special, book into the adjoining Aulis, an exclusive (limited to six diners) behind the scenes experience where you'll learn about the chef's creative process while you work. Alternatively, Rogan offers a more laid back spot just down the road called Rogan & Co – with just the one Michelin star. For the classic country pub experience, the Pig & Whistle serves locally produced food, alongside real ale, craft beer and wine, the Kings Arms offers traditional Cumbrian cuisine and locally-made beers, while 450-year-old former coaching inn The Cavendish Arms serves seasonal British cuisine, and wines curated by a local merchant. Room for dessert? Cartmel Village Shop is famous for its sticky toffee pudding. Nearest station: Grange-over-Sands (two miles from Cartmel) Glasgow Glasgow is fast becoming one of Europe's most exciting culinary destinations. It's got everything from haute cuisine (the Michelin starred Cail Bruich and Unalome) and innovative Scottish tasting menus (Fallachan Kitchen and The Gannet ) to delicious fresh seafood (CrabShakk) and seriously sexy dining spaces (Sebb's). For fresh Mediterranean flavours shared family-style, Gloriosa is a must, while Celentano's offer flavoursome Scottish surf and turf, plus herbs and honey from the restaurant's own garden and beehive. Hip bistro Brett (Cail Bruich's laid back sister) is not to be missed, nor is the iconic restaurant The Ubiquitous Chip – a warren-like maze of eating and drinking rooms in the city's West End. Mother India is a Glaswegian institution while Ranjit's Kitchen is the place to go for authentic Punjabi cooking. Meanwhile spots like Kimchi Cult, Ka Pho and GaGa offer exciting modern takes on traditional Asian flavours. Whatever your taste buds are craving, you'll find something to satisfy them in Glasgow. Nearest station: Glasgow Central in the city centre Birmingham Outside of London, Birmingham and its surroundings hold the most Michelin stars of any British city. Opheem, located just a short walk from Birmingham New Street station, is the first Indian restaurant outside of London to receive a Michelin star — and the first in Birmingham to get two stars. Also in the centre is Adams, which serves up contemporary British cuisine, while a short tram ride to the suburb of Edgbaston will take you to Simpsons, set in an impressive Georgian mansion. Birmingham is also home to some serious exciting experimental cooking — like at sister restaurants Albatross Death Cult and The Wilderness in the city's jewellery quarter. Away from the centre, the suburb of Stirchley – a short stroll from Bournville rail station – is gaining a reputation as a culinary hotspot, thanks to buzzy restaurants like Riverine Rabbit, Verbena and brunch spot Caneat. While in Harborne, Kickstarter-funded Cuubo, serves beautifully presented, seasonal eats that are as stylish as its surroundings. Nearest station: Birmingham New Street for city centre. Bournville for Stirchley. London You'll never run out of dining options in London. For the buzziest new spots, try Miga in Hackney – their elevated Korean cuisine has food critics salivating. As does contemporary Ukrainian joint Tatar Bunar in Shoreditch. Staying East, Plates is the first British Michelin-starred vegan restaurant, or tuck into Basque and Iberian-inspired fayre at Tasca. For laidback vibes and full-on flavours, head south to Camberwell's Cafe Mondo, where the patty melt and MSG martini are musts. While nearby Hello JoJo is a brilliant bistro serving sumptuous-sounding ingredients (whipped goat's curd, silky courgettes, coastal greens) and a cult-level bunny chow doughnut. Westside, uber-hip chef Jackson Boxer's new restaurant Dove is the reservation to score. Or try the classics – St. JOHN, Quo Vadis (order the pie of the day) or Rules (which opened in 1798 and has served everyone from Dickens to David Bowie). You don't have to set foot inside a restaurant at all though, such is the array of street food markets and halls. The biggest and best is Borough Market (by London Bridge), but nearby Maltby Street is a close contender. Or try Arcade Food Hall (West End and Battersea), which offers modern takes in stylish surroundings. Nearest stations: (Mainline London Stations) Waterloo, Paddington, King's Cross, St Pancras, Euston, Charing Cross, Victoria, London Bridge, Fenchurch Street, and Liverpool Street Whitstable The charming Kent coastal town of Whitstable has much to recommend it, including colourful beach huts, pretty fishing cottages, a working harbour – and plenty of delicious food. Seafood is, of course, the main attraction, specifically oysters. September sees the famous Whitstable Rocks Oyster Festival, but you can enjoy them year round, with some of the best spots The Whitstable Oyster Company, The Forge and the famous Wheeler's Oyster Bar. Oysters not your bag? Harbour Street Tapas serves up small Spanish plates, while cosy bistro Samphire, focuses on local ingredients. A short cab ride, or scenic walk, along the coast to Seasalter will take you to the Michelin starred pub The Sportsman – often ranked as one of Britain's best restaurants. You'll need to book (well) ahead, but it's worth it. Nearest station: Whitstable, about a 15 minute walk from the town centre and seafront Bruton, Somerset The picturesque market town of Bruton in Somerset has become a popular haunt for city dwellers looking to escape the rat race. It's packed with independent shops, art galleries and a new wave of restaurants offering an elevated take on the farm-to-table approach. The menu at the Michelin starred Osip is described as 'an expression of the Somerset landscape' and draws on local ingredients. There's four bedrooms above the restaurant if you want to make a weekend of it and, with plenty of other eateries in town to try, that's a good idea. Briar used to be an old ironmonger's shop: now it's a cosy neighbourhood restaurant serving inventive seasonal dishes. At the Chapel is a boutique hotel, restaurant, and artisan bakery housed in a stunning Grade II listed 17th century former chapel. The Old Pharmacy is in a building that was once, you guessed it, a pharmacy – now a wine bar, bistro and grocery store. Da Costa at the Hauser & Wirth gallery has a menu that combines English ingredients – many sourced from their own walled garden – with Italian recipes and techniques. For a small town, you'll find plenty of big flavours here. Nearest station: Bruton, in the town centre Bristol Bristol's food scene is less about flashy fine dining (though it's certainly there if you want it) and more about inventive, diverse cuisine. There's a real focus on sustainable dining, with restaurants drawing on local produce and suppliers, embracing 'slow food' values and minimising waste. The award winning Poco Tapas Bar, serving British seasonal tapas, is a pioneer, twice winning Sustainable Restaurant of the Year. Wilsons, in the city's Redland district, has both a Michelin star and a Michelin Green star and uses ingredients from its own market garden, including edible flowers. The Granary is an all-day dining spot in a historic building that focuses on fresh seasonal ingredients. Mediterranean influenced small plates spot Cor is one of the hottest spots in town, while Root's menu champions vegetables and buzzy new Korean spot Bokman ferments and pickles many of its own ingredients. Nearest station: Bristol Temple Meads in the city centre Tisbury, Wiltshire If you're looking to combine some great grub with a blast of country air, then Tisbury in Wiltshire is a great option. This village has its own station and punches above its weight as a foodie destination. At the heart of it is The Beckford Arms which has super cosy interiors and a sun-filled terrace, making it a perfect spot for lunch whatever the weather. The kitchen uses meat and game from local farms, fish from the Cornish coast and fresh produce from its own garden. There are also stylish rooms at the inn if you want to stroll easily to your stay. Take a walk down a country lane and you'll find the enchanting Pythouse Kitchen Garden, a sustainably-focused restaurant in an 18th century walled garden. Meanwhile Tisbury High Street is home tothe Tisbury Delicatessen where you can pick up everything from pork pies and chutneys to homemade casseroles and curries. They also do picnic hampers – perfect for enjoying in the surrounding countryside. Pick up a bottle of something to enjoy alongside it at Gardner and Beedle. Nearest station: Tisbury, located in the village Sheffield If street food is your thing, then a trip to Sheffield is a must. Not only does the Yorkshire city host an array of exciting pop ups, stalls and markets, including Sheffield Plate, Cutlery Works (set over two storeys in a former cutlery factory), and the monthly Peddler market – it's also home to the largest purpose built food hall in Europe. The 20,000 sq ft Cambridge Street Collective opened in 2024 and is bang in the city centre. It features the best upcoming food and drink talent with cuisines from all over the globe and plenty of space to enjoy your grub. Elsewhere, Department offers seven restaurant-quality kitchens under one roof in a stunning open plan space that also hosts exhibitions, live music and comedy. Fancy something more formal? The hugely acclaimed restaurant JÖRO recently moved to a beautiful new home in a 19th century paper mill on the northern edge of the city (just hop on a tram to Shalesmoor). Nearest station: Sheffield in the city centre Enjoy great value British adventures by train From stunning nature and the Great Outdoors, to culture, cuisine and incredible scenery, there's no doubt Britain has it all in spades, and these unmissable adventures are just a simple, enjoyable train ride away. So there's never been a better time to start planning some Great British getaways, from day trips to weekends away or a longer staycation. With Railcard, whether you're travelling solo or with a friend, on a couples weekend or off on holiday with the family, you can save on all sorts of train journeys around Great Britain. Railcard helps you save a third off rail travel and for just £35 for the year, it pays for itself in no time. With 9 different Railcards available, find the one for you at

Celebrate Jane Austen with an open air performance of one of her classics
Celebrate Jane Austen with an open air performance of one of her classics

Yahoo

time12-07-2025

  • Entertainment
  • Yahoo

Celebrate Jane Austen with an open air performance of one of her classics

Jane Austen fans will get the chance to help celebrate her 250th anniversary by enjoying an outdoor performance of at Abergavenny Castle this month. The critically acclaimed Pantaloons Theatre Company are bringing a unique open-air performance of the Jane Austen classic to the Monmouthshire castle on Saturday, July 19, 2025. Elinor Dashwood has a lot of good sense. Her sister, Marianne, has an excess of sensibility. Together, they form the heart of Austen's beloved novel - a sparkling tale of scandals, scoundrels, and severely sprained ankles. This new adaptation by the Pantaloons is funny, fast-paced, and faithful to the original. Expect live music, audience interaction, romance, and heartbreak in equal measure. The audience should bring seating, a picnic, and wear suitable attire for the weather. The venue is wheelchair accessible, though as a historic site, some ground may be uneven. Assistance dogs and well-behaved dogs on leads are welcome. Tickets are available via the Abergavenny Borough Theatre website:

Miscarriage: 'Don't tell me my baby wasn't meant to be'
Miscarriage: 'Don't tell me my baby wasn't meant to be'

BBC News

time11-07-2025

  • Health
  • BBC News

Miscarriage: 'Don't tell me my baby wasn't meant to be'

"There was probably something wrong with your baby", "you could always try again", "it wasn't meant to be".These are just a sample of the comments Siobhan Gorman experienced when her baby died 16 weeks into her pregnancy."It's not out of malice, I found a lot of people just don't know what to say," said the teacher from 35, was home alone when she went into labour and gave birth to her baby experience has left her with both post-traumatic stress disorder and a determination to educate others about the reality of miscarriage, as well as how to support those who experience it. Warning: Article contains graphic description of miscarriage which some readers may find upsetting. On 23 January last year, Siobhan began experiencing sickness, pains in her bump and blood loss so went to an emergency gynaecology a urine test she was told her symptoms were most likely signs an infection and was sent home with antibiotics. With her partner away in Italy she stayed home to rest but the following evening felt a shooting pain in her bump so intense that it made her drop to the floor."And then my waters broke and I ended up giving birth on my bathroom floor alone," she said. Unable to reach her phone she tried yelling for her neighbours, but her shouts went she could do was remain in the bathroom, holding her tiny baby. "My baby was alive but 16 weeks is too young," she said through tears."I'm holding my baby and I could tell that there was nothing I could do."My baby had 10 tiny fingers and toes and eyes and ears and was perfectly formed but was just tiny, the size of a pear." She was eventually able to get to her phone and call her mother who was nearby. "I didn't even say what happened, I just said 'you need to get to the house'," she said. An ambulance was called for but there was a long wait so her father drove her to the nearest hospital."I stood in A&E with my baby in a towel," she said. "I was told that my baby had died and my world just changed." Siobhan said she was able to find support from charities including Morgan's Wings and Petals. She said her school were amazingly supportive and she was able take 16 weeks sick she welcomed news that parents who experience a miscarriage before 24 weeks of pregnancy will be entitled to bereavement leave under a planned change to the Employment Rights Bill."I wasn't ill, my baby had died," she said. After a six-month wait for a post mortem, which did not provide any answers, they were able to have a funeral. Birth certificates are not issued for babies born before 24 weeks England, parents who lose a baby before 24 weeks of pregnancy can receive a certificate in recognition of their loss but no equivalent is available in means the only paperwork Siobhan has to show Archie existed is a cremation months on, Siobhan can't believe how naïve she was about miscarriage until it happened to her. "I assumed that you would bleed and you'd be told that there's no heartbeat, I didn't even consider the multiple other forms of baby loss that are out there," she said. If a baby dies before 24 completed weeks of pregnancy, it is known as a miscarriage but Siobhan prefers the term baby loss to describe what she went through."I had a baby and my baby died," she said. Jenni Whitmore, 41, from Brynna in Rhondda Cynon Taf, has an 11-year-old daughter and has had three also feels uncomfortable about some of the terminology."When you're told that your pregnancy can't progress anymore, you're not advised 'I'm really sorry your baby's died', you're just told your pregnancy is not viable, which yes in medical terms is correct but the terminology used needs improved," she said."We never refer to our miscarriage as a foetus, it's always 'our baby', 'my daughter's sibling'."Jenni's first two miscarriages were in October 2018, at six weeks, and in March 2019, at 10 weeks, following fertility treatment. Her third miscarriage was in February 2023 after becoming pregnant was 13 weeks pregnant when she was told there was no heartbeat and chose to stay at home and let nature take its course."It is like going through labour," she said."You're just left to deal with that at home with the advice to take paracetamol which doesn't touch it, obviously, and then once it has happened, you physically have to flush that toilet and basically flush what is referred to medically as 'product' away."But of course, mentally we know that that was our baby... and I don't think that ever leaves you." Like Siobhan, she has also experienced hurtful comments from those around her."We were met with comments of 'at least it was an early loss' and 'you can try again' but we knew it was the end of the road for us, which I think was quite difficult to process," she said. How did these comments make her feel?"It's anger, just anger," she said. "I think it's just ignorance to be honest."From the minute you've seen that pregnancy test with the two lines, you've prepared your next 10, 20, 30 years. You've planned out the rest of your life."Other people in her life just stayed away."That was quite hard because you just crave that little bit of support," said. So what is the right thing to say to someone who has had a miscarriage?"We had friends that turned up and said nothing but gave us hugs, which was really appreciated," said Jenni. "Or for someone to just say 'this is totally rubbish, I can't change it for you, but I'm here and if you need anything you know where the phone is'."Siobhan said the comment that she found the hardest was: "It wasn't meant to be.""It's the baby that has made me a mother and I don't have my child, but I am a mother," she said would prefer people simply admitted that they did not know what to said seeing other women's pregnancy announcements, gender reveal parties and baby showers on social media had been hard."I'm still able to be happy for them, you can have emotions that run alongside each other so you can be happy for somebody else, but still sad for yourself," she said."It's really hard to see what could have been but it also made me realise what a miracle it is." Details of help and support with miscarriage and pregnancy-related issues are available at BBC Action Line

I was sexually assaulted by a celebrity after starring in a cult film at 19. My quest for justice changed the course of my life
I was sexually assaulted by a celebrity after starring in a cult film at 19. My quest for justice changed the course of my life

The Guardian

time05-07-2025

  • Entertainment
  • The Guardian

I was sexually assaulted by a celebrity after starring in a cult film at 19. My quest for justice changed the course of my life

Jenny Evans had just starred in her first film when everything came crashing down. Twin Town was a riot of drugs, fast cars and bad behaviour labelled the 'Welsh Trainspotting'. She had a wonderful time making the movie, which was released in 1997. There was a feelgood atmosphere on set, and she got on brilliantly with her fellow actors (Twin Town launched the careers of Rhys Ifans and Dougray Scott). 'Friends of the cast and crew were coming down from London to Swansea because the vibe was so good,' she says. 'It was a great group of people doing something fun. It was a blast.' Twin Town became a cult success, and the 19-year-old from Abergavenny found herself hanging out with celebrities and looking forward to a career in the movies. Then she was sexually assaulted by a high-profile figure and his friend. Almost 30 years on, she has written a powerful memoir. The assault is just the starting point. Don't Let It Break You, Honey is the astonishing story of her fight for justice and how it led to a career in journalism, exposed corruption in the British press and the Metropolitan police, and played a role in the phone-hacking scandal that resulted in the closure of the News of the World. We're sitting outside a London bar and she is nursing a Diet Coke. Evans is a girlish 47, the Welsh accent has long gone, and she's casually dressed in jeans and a sleeveless T-shirt. Her gold name necklace glints in the sun, and I'm squinting to read it. Surprisingly, it begins with an F rather than a J. I look more closely. 'Fuck it,' it says. She grins – a lovely, toothy grin. 'It's just to remind me that things matter less when you give a bit of time and space to them, and to not get so caught up in the moment.' Despite the reminder, it's obvious that things matter hugely to her. It's what's driven her on when she has seemed beaten. And, despite the many times she has been terrified, she has tackled those fears head on. Evans, who now lives in Bristol, grew up in a family she adored. Her mother, a therapist, was active in the women's movement and a regular at Greenham Common; her father, an English teacher and Labour councillor, took her and her older brother Will on long walks, spotting kingfishers, skimming stones and reciting poetry. Life was idyllic. Then, when she was 13, her father died after an operation went wrong. Evans was devastated and disrupted by his death. She started to struggle at school and dropped out of A-levels twice. But she pulled herself together, found her tribe in youth theatre and was cast in Twin Town. Soon after the film came out, she met up with the team in London for a reunion. At the end of the evening, she tagged along with another woman to the house of a well-known man, unconnected to the film. When the woman left suddenly, she found herself alone with him and his friend, referred to in the book as The Famous Man and The Wolf. She asked them to call her a taxi, and that's when they assaulted her. After the men got bored with her, they let her leave. The Wolf eventually did call a cab for her. The driver, a caring man called Ken, said he thought she had been raped and asked if he could take her to a police station. Evans told him she needed to sleep. She was unsure exactly what had happened, but she knows it was a brutal sexual assault. 'Assault by penetration is what it was. The truth is, I don't know what the penetrating thing was.' Evans says she thought The Famous Man might kill her accidentally because of the pressure he applied to her throat. 'It was so violent. I couldn't breathe.' Instead of reporting the attack, she withdrew into a web of self-loathing. Evans had always regarded herself as strong and independent, but not any more. 'The assault revealed to me that I was not the adult I thought I was. I didn't know when I was safe. I couldn't read rooms. I couldn't trust my instincts. I was totally out of my depth and I retreated entirely.' She left her mother's house in Wales for London, but it was more of an escape than a move forward. She faxed her agent and told her she didn't want to be in films any more. 'Within a year I'd completely changed. I put a lot of weight on and I'd changed temperamentally. I was depressed. I felt my body had worked against me, so I wanted to change it. I began to dress drably. It was subconscious, but I felt I needed to be different because something about me made me unsafe.' She worked in a bar for a few years. A year after the assault, she was raped by a manager when she was sleeping on a sofa following a night shift. He stopped when she woke up and pushed him off, and this time there were no injuries. But it confirmed to her that there was something weak about her; abusers could sense she was prey. Again, she didn't go to the police because her self-worth was so low and she wanted to keep her job. In 2001, when Evans was 23, Will was killed in a house fire at the age of 24. She was distraught at the loss of her brother, but decided she had to make something of her life for his sake. She applied to do a degree at the Royal Central School of Speech and Drama. Evans no longer wanted to act, but she thought she would make a good teacher and fancied trying her hand at writing. She did well at Central, made many friends, moved in with a boyfriend, and recovered her equilibrium. It was seven years since the assault, and she finally felt her life had a sense of purpose. Shortly before graduating, she came across an article in the Evening Standard saying that The Famous Man had been accused of rape. In her naivety, she had assumed the attack on her was an opportunistic one-off. For the first time, it struck her that he could be a serial offender and 'other women might have been hurt while I was hiding'. She decided it was her duty to go to the police. They listened carefully and sympathetically. Although she found it stressful, she felt believed. Four days later, her story appeared in the Sun. She wasn't named (victims of a sexual crime are granted the right to lifelong anonymity in the UK), but The Famous Man was. The painfully personal details she had told the police in confidence were there for everyone to read. Evans became paranoid. She started to distrust those around her. Could her closest friends have betrayed her to the press? Had her house been bugged? Could her boyfriend, Neil, be responsible? But even he didn't know some of the details that appeared in the paper. 'I hadn't told him there was more than one person involved, for instance. You downplay these things for people you love. I felt frightened, embarrassed, humiliated, violated. I felt shame.' It was the early 2000s, a time when women who alleged sexual assault were often said to have been asking for it or simply making it up. The Famous Man's PR team set to work. Interviews appeared in which he was portrayed sympathetically and he suggested that the allegations were false and had only been made because he was well known. Evans knew she faced an uphill battle. It was hard enough to get a sexual assault conviction when the media weren't spinning for the defendant. After a second interview, the police told Evans that the Crown Prosecution Service had ruled that her evidence was strong enough for The Famous Man to be charged. She asked about the other women who had also come forward, and was told that, although they were credible, their evidence hadn't met the charging threshold. Evans was alone. She subsequently discovered that more than 40 women had made allegations against him. One day, her friend Rachel discovered a letter Evans had sent her years before in which she wrote about the assault, named The Famous Man and talked about other occasions when she had been sexually assaulted. Evans was delighted, believing it was vital evidence, and proof that she wasn't jumping on a celebrity bandwagon. She handed it to the lead detective expecting his face to light up. But it didn't. The letter was problematic, and would have to be disclosed to the defence. 'The letter discredited me,' she writes in the book. 'One assault is bad luck, two is careless – no matter the context – three, or more, you are now an undefendable, fantasist, lunatic slut.' The police told her that she would have to tell them about the other assaults and that she would be cross-examined about them in court. Defence barristers would happily humiliate her to save their client. Shame, she says, is at the heart of her story. Ultimately, the prospect of being shamed publicly led to her refusing to talk about the other incidents. The CPS said it had no option but to 'offer no evidence' against The Famous Man and a statement was released saying that the charges against him had been dropped. Today, Evans says, she wishes she had sought legal advice before disclosing the letter. That Sunday, the News of the World devoted a double-page spread to her story. Again, she wasn't named, but the details from her meeting with the police about the letter were all there. The article said she had kept secrets from the police, which was untrue, and implied that she had accused The Famous Man of assault simply because he was famous. The same questions kept circling in her head. How did the News of the World get this information? Did they pay for it? Was it legal to do so? And were the police involved? Despite writing the book, she still finds it hard to tell her story. Her knees are tucked up to her tummy and her arms are wrapped around them. 'My body language! It's very guarded,' she says, laughing. 'I just wanted to know what the fuck happened. This ball of fear in my gut turned into anger. I just went, this is not OK. I'm done. This is not OK.' That day she applied for a place to do a postgraduate diploma in journalism at City, University of London. After the case against The Famous Man collapsed, the lead detective told her she still might qualify for criminal injury compensation, paid to victims of a violent crime who have suffered mental or physical injuries. He offered to apply on her behalf, but she declined. When she discovered the journalism course cost £5,000, she changed her mind. That money helped pay her way through City University. Why did she want to become a journalist when the press had tried to destroy her? 'I wanted to understand what this beast was that had so violated me. I sensed something illegal had happened and I wanted to expose that on some level.' A few weeks into her course, she attended a masterclass in investigative journalism by then Guardian reporter Nick Davies, who was about to start an investigation into the state of British journalism. She decided that could be her route to getting an answer about how her story had appeared in the Sun and the News of the World. Evans suggested they go for a cup of tea, and got straight to the point. Did Davies take on researchers, and, if so, would he give her a job? She started working with him on his book Flat Earth News, which was published in 2008 and exposed some of the murky practices of British journalism. After graduating, she continued working with him on an ad-hoc basis but spent most of her time developing documentaries for television. In July 2009, Davies wrote a Guardian news story headlined 'Murdoch papers paid £1m to gag phone-hacking victims'. Evans had not been in touch with Davies for a while, because she had been abroad working on TV documentaries. She'd never heard of phone hacking, but it was a lightbulb moment – so this was how the tabloids stole secrets. Two years earlier, in January 2007, the News of the World's royal correspondent Clive Goodman had been jailed for four months after pleading guilty to illegally intercepting mobile phone messages involving members of the royal household; his co-conspirator, private investigator Glenn Mulcaire, was sentenced to six months. At the time, News International (now News UK), which published the News of the World, claimed that Goodman was a solitary rogue operator. Davies did not believe this, and was convinced there was plenty more to come out. Evans's documentary work had come to an end, and she asked Davies if he had anything to tide her over. He said he needed someone 'good at calling up strangers and persuading them to talk' – namely 'current and former News of the World employees about the use of private investigators and any other dark arts', such as 'blagging' information from confidential databases and tapping live phone calls. Evans jumped at it. Davies did not know she had a vested interest. Gradually people began to talk, and what she discovered horrified her. She was told stories about reporters sent on 'punishment' missions to chase fictitious stories set up by editors to humiliate them. There was the reporter who was five months pregnant being ordered to get in a dinghy to look for a whale's family, and another being left at the side of a road dressed as a 'hooker' in the dead of night. One source alleged that he had seen editors pay police for stories, and that this had once led to the suicide of someone accused of a crime. Although News of the World editor Andy Coulson professed ignorance about phone hacking, 'he was in it up to his earlobes', according to another source. 'The more I found out about the tabloids,' Evans says, 'the more fearful I became, because of their reach, their power, the corruption, the ruthlessness, the depth of the misogyny.' She was not having much luck getting potential victims of hacking to talk to her. So Davies suggested that she should encourage them to ask the Met directly if they were on the database of names obtained from private investigator Mulcaire's material. Few people knew the Met was obliged to give them this information, and that those who found evidence they may have been hacked could then sue the News of the World and Mulcaire. Davies put together a list of names of likely victims – largely people who had been exposed by the paper. At the bottom of the list was The Famous Man. Davies still had no idea of Evans's connection to him. There was no way she was going to approach him, but it gave her an idea. She emailed New Scotland Yard and explained that she thought she may have been hacked by Mulcaire. Three months later, the Met responded, saying: 'There is some documentation in our possession to suggest that you may have been a person of interest to Glenn Mulcaire.' In the book, Evans describes her response to receiving the email with typical scatological brio. 'Holy shitting fuck,' she writes. Evans obtained photocopies of the relevant bits of Mulcaire's notebooks. Alongside her name he had written 'Fragile', and had got her date of birth wrong. Next to her name was that of her friend Rachel, with the correct address and date of birth. This was even more alarming. After all, she was the friend to whom she had written a letter about the assault, the disclosure of which had resulted in the breakdown of her case and the double-page spread in the News of the World. She went into meltdown. Although this was the proof she had long been looking for, she was petrified, not least because she hadn't told Davies of her vested interest and now believed that it could undermine the integrity of his investigation. She couldn't focus on work because she was in pieces, and she was penniless. She invoiced Davies for a number of shifts, and he got back to her asking why nothing seemed to have come from the work she'd done in that time. That's when it all came out. She told him everything. Evans says she expected a bollocking. When she had finished, Davies said that he had experienced violence as a child from somebody who should have protected him, and it had given him a lifelong hatred of bullies. 'We must stand up to the bullies, if we can, Jen,' he told her. 'We can stand up to them together. If you still feel you can.' Not only was she relieved, she believed she had finally found her answer: she must have been one of many people who had been hacked by Mulcaire, although she could not remember discussing the details of her case on the phone. But even here, she was disappointed. She had not recognised the phone number Mulcaire had jotted beside her name, but thought that was because she'd changed it so many times. She rang the number to check it out. It turned out to be a different Jenny Evans; Mulcaire was looking for her but found the wrong number. She finally realised that there could only be one answer to her original question. Apart from her and Rachel, only the Metropolitan police knew about the existence of the letter in which she discussed the assault. If Mulcaire had attempted to hack into her phone, he had clearly fallen at the first hurdle. The Murdoch press could have only got hold of her story from the police. The more she found out about the Murdoch press, the more she had come to think that they were in cahoots with the Met, if not controlling them. In the investigation into the hacking scandal, it emerged that officers were paid for information (which is unlawful), and that senior officers frequently partied with and were treated to freebies by News International journalists. After Davies's 2009 story about the payouts to hacking victims, the Met initially promised to review all the material that the police had seized from Mulcaire when he was arrested in 2006 – six bin bags containing 11,000 pages of notes from his home. 'We were all expecting that to take a long time, but 24 hours later they came back and said, 'We've reviewed it all and there's nothing to see here,'' an incredulous Evans says. Why does she think the Met appeared so eager to cover up News International's criminal activity? Evans says there isn't a simple answer, but she points out that a number of senior police officers were having affairs that went on to be exposed by rivals of the Sun and the News of the World. It's hard to believe that Murdoch's newspapers, so skilled in exposing the secret sex lives of the rich and powerful, were unaware of these relationships. Evans feels the true significance of the phone-hacking scandal has been downplayed because it involved celebrities. 'It has landed in people's consciousness as something to do with Hugh Grant's voicemail. The breaches of privacy are terrible, but it's actually a police corruption story. They tried to cover it up, to stay in the good books of the Murdoch press. When this was happening, we were talking about the power of Murdoch and the other tabloids, and now we've got the social media oligarchs who wield a similar amount of power. That's why it's still relevant.' It took the hacking of missing schoolgirl Milly Dowler's voicemail to transform a marginal story into a national scandal. The case was reported in the Guardian in July 2011, a month after serial killer Levi Bellfield had been convicted of her murder. Ironically, on this occasion, the News of the World may well have been hacking Dowler's phone for noble reasons – to try to track her down. The fallout from the phone-hacking scandal was huge. In 2011, former News of the World editor Andy Coulson resigned from his new job as spin doctor to prime minister David Cameron, and six months later the 168-year-old newspaper, known to many as News of the Screws, was closed down. The head of the Met, Paul Stephenson, resigned after it was revealed he had accepted a complimentary 20-night stay at luxury health spa Champneys over a five-week period when recuperating from a knee operation. Champneys' publicist was Neil Wallis, former deputy editor of the News of the World, with whom Stephenson had dined eight times between 2006 and 2010. His deputy John Yates also resigned. He blamed News International for failing to tell him how widespread phone hacking was. In 2014, Coulson was jailed for 18 months after being found guilty of a charge of conspiracy to intercept voicemails. As for The Famous Man, he also got his comeuppance. Although he never was put on trial, his reputation was well and truly trashed after it was revealed that there had been multiple allegations against him. Did Evans feel vindicated? 'Yes, when the News of the World closed I felt very emotional. I felt like the bullies had been taken down. But even then, it was complicated. I had also met so many reporters who had worked for these newspapers and I liked them, so I was aware they were being demonised. I felt for them.' She now knew at lot about the way the tabloids operated. But she still didn't know how they had got her story. Evans wrote to the Met police's directorate of professional standards (DPS), saying: 'I have come to the conclusion that someone in the Met police either gave or – worse – sold my private information to the tabloids. And I would like to know the truth, please. So that I can move on.' The DPS produced its final report in November 2013, two years later. The directorate upheld her complaint, but effectively cleared the Met in the process. It concluded that there had been one leak by a press officer to 'journalist sources' about the police station that The Famous Man had been taken to, but there was no evidence that Evans's letter to Rachel had been leaked by the police. The report said that the press officer had been suspended, that he had since died and that his files had been lost. It suggested that the fact that the News of the World article did not mention the letter was evidence that the letter had not been leaked, and did not attempt to explain how the paper had got hold of her information. Evans Googled the dead press officer. He had been suspended months before the News of the World article about her was published. She wasn't done yet. Evans then took her case to the Independent Police Complaints Commission (now rebranded as the Independent Office for Police Conduct), whose remit was to evaluate whether the Met had carried out a sufficient investigation into itself. The IPCC, which was largely staffed by former officers, concluded it had. And still she wasn't done. Evans was determined to get an apology. So she approached the lawyer Tamsin Allen, and asked if she could see a way forward. 'I went to Tamsin and said, 'Surely this is wrong, surely this is not OK?'' Allen agreed with her and said she thought Evans could make a claim for damages against the Met for giving away or selling her secrets to the Murdoch press. Evans was impressed by Allen's desire to fight for justice. Allen told her: 'It is hugely satisfying to represent an individual against a monolith.' This struck a chord. When Evans opened the letter she received from the Met in 2014, she found herself 'crying and laughing simultaneously'. She had finally got an apology for 'the passing of information to the media' and 'for the distress caused', but again the Met blamed the dead press officer. In the end, she never did get a satisfactory answer to the question that took her into journalism – how did the details she had revealed to the police find their way into the News of the World? But along the way she had helped Davies expose the dark arts of the Murdoch press, and bring down leading figures in News International and the Metropolitan police. She also received a life-changing settlement from the Met alongside the apology. It paid for IVF treatment, and after five rounds and eight embryo transfers, she gave birth to her son, Leo, who is now six. Allen then took on the newspapers on Evans's behalf, a number of which paid her damages, although none admitted liability. After working successfully as a documentary maker for 20 years (directing and producing films about refugees and asylum seekers, homelessness and, of course, phone hacking), she decided it was time for a career change in 2020. Inspired by Allen, she used part of her payout from the newspapers to retrain as a lawyer. Now she has qualified and is looking for her first job. I ask if she has reached closure. Not through her dealings with the police, she says. 'I was aware by the end that I wouldn't get the name of the person responsible because that's how corruption works. People just cover their arses: they change department names, they lose files, they scapegoat someone else, and suddenly it's undiscoverable. But on one level the book is my closure. It's pulling together all the research, everything I discovered, and saying, 'Look at this, it's not OK, is it?'' That seems to be your motto, I say. Evans nods and grins. She glances down at her 'Fuck it' necklace. 'I think I'm going to change my necklace to 'This is not OK'.' Don't Let It Break You: A Memoir About Saving Yourself by Jenny Evans is published by Robinson (£22). To support the Guardian, order your copy at Delivery charges may apply.

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