Friday, March 24, 2006
Don't Panic!
So, the deadly H5N1 strain of bird flu has landed in Scotland. It should not surprise anyone that it has emerged; but what is shocking is that it took the authorities eight days to collect, test and confirm a dead mute swan had the virus.
The initially lethargic response to the discovery of the dead bird in the Fife coastal village of Cellardyke has been cranked up five gears with the imposition of an "at risk" zone across 2,500 square kilometres of Eastern Scotland.
Within that zone, stretching from the Forth Bridges northwards through Fife, to Perth, Dundee, Angus and Stonehaven, there are two further barriers.
From the locus itself, in the East Neuk of Fife, there is a three kilometre protection zone; and spreading ten kilometres beyond that is what is called a surveillance zone. It adds up to restrictions on the movement of poultry and their products and the order to house chicken stocks indoors.
The Scottish Government and UK medical and veterinary experts have emphasised there is no need for the public to panic: this is a bird disease that worldwide has only thus far spread to humans who have had extremely close contact with the birds.
More than a dozen other swans are currently being tested - with a pledge from the Scottish Government that there will be no further delays. Results on the swan reported eight days ago were slow to emerge because the testing lab in England "didn't work at the weekend". It does now, and 24-hours a day.
Consumers have shown mild concern about the so-called threat of the virus mutating into one that can be passed human to human. The poultry industry hopes it remains that way and is scathing of the English supermarket chain Waitrose, which yesterday put up notices across its stores proclaiming they didn't stock Scottish eggs or chickens.
At supermarkets across Scotland today, there is no visible sign of poultry sales dipping. Checkout surveys - part of general stocktaking - show that sales are steady.
The danger to humans, say the World Health Organisation and virology experts, is minimal.
There is however, a far greater danger that the virus will find its way into the poultry farms within the various eastern Scottish zones. If that happens, localised culling may have to begin.
As grave as that could be to the industry in the short term, there will be no room for any delay. At the weekend or otherwise.
Charles Fletcher
charles.fletcher@caledoniamedia.com
So, the deadly H5N1 strain of bird flu has landed in Scotland. It should not surprise anyone that it has emerged; but what is shocking is that it took the authorities eight days to collect, test and confirm a dead mute swan had the virus.
The initially lethargic response to the discovery of the dead bird in the Fife coastal village of Cellardyke has been cranked up five gears with the imposition of an "at risk" zone across 2,500 square kilometres of Eastern Scotland.
Within that zone, stretching from the Forth Bridges northwards through Fife, to Perth, Dundee, Angus and Stonehaven, there are two further barriers.
From the locus itself, in the East Neuk of Fife, there is a three kilometre protection zone; and spreading ten kilometres beyond that is what is called a surveillance zone. It adds up to restrictions on the movement of poultry and their products and the order to house chicken stocks indoors.
The Scottish Government and UK medical and veterinary experts have emphasised there is no need for the public to panic: this is a bird disease that worldwide has only thus far spread to humans who have had extremely close contact with the birds.
More than a dozen other swans are currently being tested - with a pledge from the Scottish Government that there will be no further delays. Results on the swan reported eight days ago were slow to emerge because the testing lab in England "didn't work at the weekend". It does now, and 24-hours a day.
Consumers have shown mild concern about the so-called threat of the virus mutating into one that can be passed human to human. The poultry industry hopes it remains that way and is scathing of the English supermarket chain Waitrose, which yesterday put up notices across its stores proclaiming they didn't stock Scottish eggs or chickens.
At supermarkets across Scotland today, there is no visible sign of poultry sales dipping. Checkout surveys - part of general stocktaking - show that sales are steady.
The danger to humans, say the World Health Organisation and virology experts, is minimal.
There is however, a far greater danger that the virus will find its way into the poultry farms within the various eastern Scottish zones. If that happens, localised culling may have to begin.
As grave as that could be to the industry in the short term, there will be no room for any delay. At the weekend or otherwise.
Charles Fletcher
charles.fletcher@caledoniamedia.com
Darling Maggie
Andrew Glover burst into the newsroom in Edinburgh, out of breath and with his trademark grin writ large across his face.
"Okay, boss," he said. "Who're we supporting? Alex or Maggie?" "Do you really think there's an option?" I replied. "We'll back Maggie, but Alex will win."
But while Alex Salmond, as predicted, went on to win the votes of the Scottish National Party members for the national leadership in 1990, the hearts were always there for Margaret Ewing, who has died after a long illness.
She first made headlines in 1974 when she went to the House of Commons as the newly elected Member for East Dunbartonshire. It was a heady time to watch politics in Scotland; even more exciting to be at the thick of it, as Maggie was with her distinctive vigour, passion and wit.
In the two General Elections of 1974 there were first seven then 11 Nationalists at Westminster.
At that time, talk of a Scots Parliament was dismissed by many, but this 11 and not least Maggie, instinctively knew that in our lifetime, the legislature would return to Edinburgh.
She had a thoughtfulness and a kindness that is rare to find in political creatures. Maggie was so very different in her determination, her devotion to constituents; and as a bonus point, she could make you laugh, long, loud and hard.
Sharing a dram with her ahead of big events like Conference, in the comfort of her Lossiemouth home, was always a time to disect the national mood; and when the serious stuff was out of the way, dish a little gossip around the room as well.
There was something special about Maggie. Something that began in the Commons and continued at Holyrood: when her name was called, and when she would rise to speak, everyone listened.
She would waste no opportunity to slap down her political opponents and very often did it with that trademark humour. I don't think in all her years of service, she put a foot wrong. She certainly didn't get embroiled in the in-party fighting and clannishness that tarnished others. She was above that, not in a haughty way, she simply felt it more important to be out there encouraging the electorate that independence was something that was worth fighting for. She worked a room through persuasion, not lectures.
Last year, she proferred me one of her throwaway jabs as she stepped into a lift at Holyrood: "Guess where I'm off to, Charles?" ""Don't know." "I'm off to listen to the Welsh Windbag. Can you believe he's still droning on, after all these years?!"
But if that's what she made of former Labour Party Leader Neil Kinnock, her best quips were saved for the chamber.
When Henry McLeish was First Minister, he said he was very concerned about a policy that reminded him of an unparliamentary word that he chose not to utter, but did say: "...it begins with H and ends in Y."
Quick as a flash, Maggie popped up to suggest what the word was: "Henry!" The body politic was convulsed. Press and public galleries roared with laughter. Even Henry laughed, wagging a finger at her in mirth.
Scotland has lost a champion of the nation. But Maggie never lost our hearts.
Charles Fletcher
charles.fletcher@caledoniamedia.com
Andrew Glover burst into the newsroom in Edinburgh, out of breath and with his trademark grin writ large across his face.
"Okay, boss," he said. "Who're we supporting? Alex or Maggie?" "Do you really think there's an option?" I replied. "We'll back Maggie, but Alex will win."
But while Alex Salmond, as predicted, went on to win the votes of the Scottish National Party members for the national leadership in 1990, the hearts were always there for Margaret Ewing, who has died after a long illness.
She first made headlines in 1974 when she went to the House of Commons as the newly elected Member for East Dunbartonshire. It was a heady time to watch politics in Scotland; even more exciting to be at the thick of it, as Maggie was with her distinctive vigour, passion and wit.
In the two General Elections of 1974 there were first seven then 11 Nationalists at Westminster.
At that time, talk of a Scots Parliament was dismissed by many, but this 11 and not least Maggie, instinctively knew that in our lifetime, the legislature would return to Edinburgh.
She had a thoughtfulness and a kindness that is rare to find in political creatures. Maggie was so very different in her determination, her devotion to constituents; and as a bonus point, she could make you laugh, long, loud and hard.
Sharing a dram with her ahead of big events like Conference, in the comfort of her Lossiemouth home, was always a time to disect the national mood; and when the serious stuff was out of the way, dish a little gossip around the room as well.
There was something special about Maggie. Something that began in the Commons and continued at Holyrood: when her name was called, and when she would rise to speak, everyone listened.
She would waste no opportunity to slap down her political opponents and very often did it with that trademark humour. I don't think in all her years of service, she put a foot wrong. She certainly didn't get embroiled in the in-party fighting and clannishness that tarnished others. She was above that, not in a haughty way, she simply felt it more important to be out there encouraging the electorate that independence was something that was worth fighting for. She worked a room through persuasion, not lectures.
Last year, she proferred me one of her throwaway jabs as she stepped into a lift at Holyrood: "Guess where I'm off to, Charles?" ""Don't know." "I'm off to listen to the Welsh Windbag. Can you believe he's still droning on, after all these years?!"
But if that's what she made of former Labour Party Leader Neil Kinnock, her best quips were saved for the chamber.
When Henry McLeish was First Minister, he said he was very concerned about a policy that reminded him of an unparliamentary word that he chose not to utter, but did say: "...it begins with H and ends in Y."
Quick as a flash, Maggie popped up to suggest what the word was: "Henry!" The body politic was convulsed. Press and public galleries roared with laughter. Even Henry laughed, wagging a finger at her in mirth.
Scotland has lost a champion of the nation. But Maggie never lost our hearts.
Charles Fletcher
charles.fletcher@caledoniamedia.com
