Andy Burnham has declared that water is a symbol of what has gone wrong with Britain, but voters may flush Labour out if he cannot deliver real improvements before the next election. The promise to end the ban on public ownership of water companies is very different from actually spending billions on bringing them back into public ownership.
Water and gas failures spark concern
A journey to the Labour conference in Liverpool began with the discovery that water had stopped running in a swathe of homes, according to a neighbourhood WhatsApp group. Moments later, an email from the school told parents not to send their children to class due to a lack of water. Men in high-vis jackets were laying new internet cable along the footpath, but neighbours really want to brush their teeth. Gas had been turned off just weeks ago because of a crumbling pipe.
This is a remarkable era when amazing technology can turn a billionaire into a trillionaire, but if basic infrastructure collapses, citizens will feel they are in a new Dark Ages. Britons are tired of living in a country where sewage wrecks lakes and beaches, and energy costs are about to rocket once again.
Narnia adaptation stirs culture war
Meanwhile, the upcoming film adaptation of The Magician's Nephew has become a new flashpoint in the culture wars. Director Greta Gerwig's imagining of the heroic lion Aslan has been described by a Lewis aficionado as having David Bowie eyes, with one blue and one amber, multi-coloured whiskers, and a touch of Ziggy Stardust. Online warriors are incensed at what they see as traducing a near-sacred text. Gerwig said in her Empire interview: “I don't know how you went from David Jones to David Bowie unless you went to Narnia and you saw something.”
Pinball and train journeys
In a quiet village on Sunday afternoon, a father and son discovered a wild form of entertainment which doesn't require electricity. In a tiny museum, they played a version of pinball dating from the early years of the 20th century, where you send the metal balls on their ricocheting way by hitting them with a wooden hammer.
Party conference season reminds me of a travel hiccup on a journey to Manchester. A ticket inspector was too polite to mention I was on the wrong train, and I ended up in Liverpool, where banners everywhere proclaimed the city's greatness. I hotfooted it eastwards and arrived at the conference just in time.
