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The Guardian

• Miliband set for decision on EU referendum
  Shadow ministers urge leader to put pressure on Cameron by promising EU membership poll if Labour win general election Ed Miliband is being urged by a growing number of shadow cabinet members and senior allies to promise a dramatic in-out referendum on Britain's future membership of the European Union if Labour wins the next general election. Several figures in the party are pushing the Labour leader to make the pledge well before the next European elections in 2014 to outmanoeuvre David Cameron, who is under heavy pressure to commit the Tory party to a national vote on the issue. The Observer has been told that, after discussions with shadow cabinet members, Miliband is leaving the door open to a referendum – although he is keen to stress that the short-term focus and discussion must be on how to end the current euro crisis. Allies of the Labour leader say pressure on him to make what would be a historic, high-risk pledge will increase following the appointment of Jon Cruddas, the MP for Dagenham and Rainham, as Labour's policy chief. Cruddas, a long-time opponent of the euro but otherwise pro-EU, is strongly in favour of an in-out referendum as a means of ending divisive arguments on Europe once and for all. Before his appointment, Cruddas told the People's Pledge campaign for a referendum that the issue was one of "democracy", and said a referendum pledge should be made "immediately, or as quickly as we can". Cruddas is understood to think that such a move would help define Miliband's leadership as bold and distinct from the New Labour years of Tony Blair and Gordon Brown. A ComRes opinion poll for the Independent on Sunday and Sunday Mirror showed how Europe is emerging as an issue that could be pivotal at the next election. The poll showed that 26% of Tories now say they will consider voting for the anti-EU Ukip compared to 11% of Labour supporters and 14% of Liberal Democrats. It also showed the extent of anti-EU hostility Labour would need to overcome if a referendum were held now, with 46% of voters saying they would vote to leave the EU compared with 30% who would vote to stay in. If Labour did commit to a referendum, the party leadership would campaign vigorously in favour of a vote to stay in – a stance that would be supported by most Labour members. A referendum would, however, leave the Tories divided, with the party leadership certain to campaign for a vote to remain in the EU, while many MPs and grassroots Conservatives would want to leave. One shadow cabinet member said: "We should have the confidence to say we think we can win this and get on with it. There are issues of timing, about when we make the decision and when one would be held. But it certainly is no longer heresy to talk about it." A spokesman for Miliband did not deny that the option was being considered, stressing merely that "our position is that we don't think this is what Europe needs at the moment". Last week, in a sign that the Labour party is gradually preparing the ground for a referendum pledge, shadow chancellor Ed Balls said there could be a case in future, for calling a national vote when the current euro crisis was over and the shape of the new Europe was known. This followed similar comments from former cabinet minister and European commissioner Lord Mandelson. On Thursday Peter Hain, a former Europe minister who stepped down from the shadow cabinet last week but who remains loyal to Miliband, said on BBC1's Question Time that he believed the British people would deserve a say when the time was right. "I think the way things are going people in Britain probably want to make up their minds about whether to stay in Europe or not," he said. "I don't think we should be frightened about giving people a vote." Sources said that Hain would never have spoken out on the EU issue had he felt such remarks would have been unhelpful to Miliband, or significantly out of kilter with the Labour leader's own views. Miliband is said to be genuinely undecided and cautious – not least because of the possibility that the country could vote to leave the EU. He is also being advised by some that the move could be seen as crudely opportunistic at a time of crisis in the EU. Others say that it could put off Liberal Democrats who might otherwise come over to Labour. Labour enthusiasts for a referendum stress, however, that it would not in any way amount to a watering down of Labour's commitment to the EU. On the contrary, it would be an opportunity to argue the positive case for membership during a national campaign – one that would also help the party build alliances with pro-EU elements of the business community. While a minority of Labour MPs might want to leave the EU, highlighting divisions within Labour, they say a referendum would cause far deeper splits in the Tory party. The People's Pledge, which draws support from all political parties, has announced it will hold more local referendums in three Greater Manchester constituencies, Withington, Cheadle and Hazel Grove, asking people if they want a national vote. The seats, one in Manchester and two in Stockport, are all represented by Liberal Democrat MPs: John Leech, Mark Hunter and Andrew Stunnell, respectively. This follows its local referendum in Thurrock last month where 89.9% of people who voted backed a referendum. Ian McKenzie, director of the People's Pledge, said: "The people of Thurrock set the pace last month by voting in huge numbers for a referendum. Voters in Manchester Withington, Cheadle and Hazel Grove now have the chance to quicken that pace towards a national referendum for the rest of us." Ed Miliband European Union Jon Cruddas Labour Conservatives Europe Toby Helm guardian.co.uk © 2012 Guardian News and Media Limited or its affiliated companies. All rights reserved. | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds Labour leader Ed Miliband is under pressure to make a referendum pledge on Europe. Photograph: Chris Radburn/PALabour leader Ed Miliband is under pressure to make a referendum pledge on Europe. Photograph: Chris Radburn/PA
• Met's phone-hacking inquiry head to retire
  Senior police officer will leave after London 2012 Olympics, Scotland Yard has announced Sue Akers, who has been leading Scotland's Yard investigation into phone hacking, is to retire after the Olympics, the Metropolitan police has confirmed. The Met deputy assistant commissioner has been on the force for 36 years. She is in charge of the three linked inquiries into phone hacking, illicit payments and computer hacking, and has been leading inquiries into the potential involvement of intelligence services in relation to detainees held abroad. Deputy commissioner Craig Mackey said Akers's extensive detective experience would be missed but her decision to step down would not be allowed to affect the progress of the investigations. Akers, who joined the Met in 1976, took control of Operation Weeting – the force's second inquiry into the phone-hacking scandal – in January 2011. Operations Elveden, which is focusing on inappropriate payments to police, and Tuleta, which is looking at allegations of computer hacking, run alongside. The fresh investigation came after detectives were handed a new dossier of evidence hinting that suspicious activities at the News of the World went beyond "rogue reporter" Clive Goodman. The now-defunct tabloid's royal editor was jailed along with private investigator Glenn Mulcaire in 2007 after they admitted intercepting messages. Mackey said: "Considerable resources have been dedicated to investigating phone-hacking and related offences, and the officers on these operations will continue to follow all evidence of suspected criminality. "The importance of the continuity of leadership will of course be taken into account when the future command structure for Operations Weeting, Elveden and Tuleta is considered." Akers told the former Met commissioner Sir Paul Stephenson she had planned to retire after the Olympics even before the new phone-hacking investigation was launched, according to the Independent on Sunday. She is believed to be the longest-serving woman in the Met. A Scotland Yard spokesman said: "Deputy Assistant Commissioner [DAC] Sue Akers is due to retire later this year after 36 years' service with the MPS. "The DAC signalled her intention to retire this autumn when she took charge of investigations into phone-hacking and related corruption and computer crime." Akers, the former borough commander of Barnet, was awarded the Queen's Police Medal in 2007. Sue Akers Phone hacking Metropolitan police Operation Elveden Operation Tuleta Operation Weeting guardian.co.uk © 2012 Guardian News and Media Limited or its affiliated companies. All rights reserved. | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds Sue Akers, head of the Met's inquiries into phone hacking, is to retire after the Olympics. Photograph: Peter Macdiarmid/GettySue Akers, head of the Met's inquiries into phone hacking, is to retire after the Olympics. Photograph: Peter Macdiarmid/Getty
• Dawkins backs Gove's free Bible plan
  Author of The God Delusion says providing free Bibles to state schools is justified by its impact on the English language It sounds like one of the most unlikely alliances of recent years. Richard Dawkins, arch-atheist and scourge of the praying classes, has announced support for education secretary Michael Gove's plan to send free King James Bibles to every state school. The proposal aims to help pupils learn about the Bible's impact "on our history, language, literature and democracy" and will celebrate the 400th anniversary of the authorised version's publication, Gove said earlier this year. Church leaders have approved, but the plan has fallen foul of most non-believers. An online Guardian poll showed an 82% opposition, while the National Secular Society said the £375,000 proposal wasted money and favoured Christianity in multi-faith state schools. Nevertheless, several rich Tory party donors agreed to back the plan and the first Bibles were sent out last week, to the derision of secularists – with the exception of their most prominent and pugnacious recruit: Richard Dawkins, author of The God Delusion and critic of all things clerical. As Dawkins reveals in today's Observer , support for the Bible plan is justified on the grounds of literary merit and he lists a range of biblical phrases which any cultivated English speaker will instantly recognise. These include "salt of the Earth", "through a glass darkly", and "no peace for the wicked". Dawkins states: "A native speaker of English who has not read a word of the King James Bible is verging on the barbarian." Rapprochement would seem to be in the air – until Dawkins's thesis is studied more closely. While Gove believes the Bible is a guide to morality, Dawkins is sure it is not. "I have heard the cynically misanthropic opinion that without the Bible as a moral compass people would show no restraint against murder, theft and mayhem. The surest way to disabuse yourself of this pernicious falsehood is to read the Bible itself," he says. In fact, its pages are riddled with the advocacy of murder, slavery and theft. Hence his support for Gove's plan: opening the Bible is the surest way to put young minds off its contents. From this perspective, the Dawkins-Gove alliance looks dead before it started. Richard Dawkins Michael Gove The Bible Religion Christianity Religion Robin McKie guardian.co.uk © 2012 Guardian News and Media Limited or its affiliated companies. All rights reserved. | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds Richard Dawkins says his support for the Bible plan is justified on the grounds of literary merit. Photograph: Murdo MacLeodRichard Dawkins says his support for the Bible plan is justified on the grounds of literary merit. Photograph: Murdo MacLeod
• Mary Beith, the journalist who broke the 'smoking beagles' story
  Mary Beith, who died last weekend aged 73, was responsible for one of the most memorable newspaper front pages in the history of popular journalism. She was the undercover reporter who took pictures of dogs being forced to inhale cigarette smoke, resulting in an iconic 1975 People splash: "The smoking beagles." The animals were being used in an experiment to test a new (allegedly) "safe" cigarette. The story behind the story was a classic example of investigative journalism - a mixture of determination, chutzpah, good luck and comedy. Beith, then working for The People in Manchester, was asked by its investigations supremo, Laurie Manifold, to see if she could obtain a job in an ICI animal-testing laboratory. She chose the Macclesfield lab for the simple reason that it was close to her home and, in spite of lacking insurance cards, managed to land the job. Part of her work involved trussing the dogs into fabric slings, essentially straitjackets. "Their heads were restrained by locking boards in place like medieval stocks," she later wrote. "The dogs were then lifted on to trolleys to the smoking platforms and the masks, valves and tubes were fixed to their faces." Some of the 48 beagles used in the experiment were expected to smoke as many as 30 cigarettes in a day. Beith was equipped with a spy-style camera and snapped a number of shots of the chain-smoking beagles. But when she took the film back to the office the dark room staff laughed at her efforts. One told her: "The next time you take pics of those beagles, Mary, please be sure to take your finger off the lens!" "It was a very small camera," she told me in an a couple of years ago. So the following day she went back to the lab and got the shot that you can see above, the one that shocked People readers. In all, Beith spent seven days at the lab in the summer of 1974. But, she said, "the paper then sat on the story for around six months." It caused a sensation when it was finally published in 1975 and Beith won an award as campaigning journalist of the year. Though this was her best-known exposé by far, Beith carried out many other investigations, including the abuse of the elderly in psychiatric institutions. Her daughter, Alison, remembered her mother dressing in a nurse's uniform for that assignment. She was also sent on several assignments to Northern Ireland. Mary Beith was born in 1938 in London. Her father, Freddie, spent some years as a journalist before he became a civil servant. She went to boarding school in Surrey and was briefly a teacher before taking a journalism course and initially working for the Bournemouth Times. While there she met and married a Bournemouth Echo reporter, Roger Scott. They later had three children. After moving to Macclesfield, she took a reporting job with The People at its Manchester office. In the late 1970s, following the break-up of her marriage, she moved to Glasgow and joined the Sunday Mail. She then moved to the Highlands and began freelancing, mainly for The Scotsman, and much of her work was concentrated on archaeology and botany. She eventually settled in Sutherland, at the mouth of the Kyle of Tongue, and in 1989 started to write a fortnightly column for the West Highland Free Press, mainly on the history of Gaelic medicine. It led to he writing a book Healing Threads, Traditional Medicines of the Highlands and Islands . She became immersed in Gaelic education and also wrote a couple of children's books. One, The Magic Apple Tree , was published in Gaelic. In view of the smoking beagles story it was perhaps, ironic that she was an habitual smoker throughout her life. Diagnosed with an aggressive form of lung cancer, she managed to outlive the doctors' original prognosis. She is survived by her children - Alison, Andrew and Fiona - and eight grandchildren. Mary Beith, journalist. Born 22 May 1938, in London. Died 13 May 2012, in Sutherland, Scotland Sources: The Scotsman /The Herald/Personal communications Hat tip: allmedia Scotland The People Investigative journalism Campaigning journalism Sunday Mail The Scotsman Newspapers Scotland Regional & local newspapers ICI Roy Greenslade guardian.co.uk © 2012 Guardian News and Media Limited or its affiliated companies. All rights reserved. | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds The People picture of smoking dogs that shocked the nation in 1975
• Olympic torch route, day 2: the flame enters a non-competitive zone
  Totnes will put aside its scepticism to cheer on the torch and its bearers – just don't expect many union flags The Olympic torch arrives in Totnes at 14.12 on the A381 Plymouth Road and leaves 24 minutes later via Bridgetown Hill at 14.36, bound for Paignton, where it will spend 57 minutes. Not that it's a competition. Anyway Totnes is recognised as one of the top 10 non-competitive towns in the UK. Next year we hope to make the top three. The torch won't be going past the famously amended sign "Welcome to Totnes. Twinned with Narnia". It's on the route you take if you're passing through Totnes in a hurry to get from Dartmouth to Torbay. It won't be going past the ancient Guildhall, the Natural Health Centre, either of the mystical bookshops or green-funeral parlours. It bypasses this mythical tree-hugging, hemp-wearing, navel-gazing, crystal healing, chakra-balancing, difference-tolerating, seed-sharing, basket-weaving, plant-whispering, carbon-tiptoeing Totnes – where you're never more than 15 feet from an aromatherapist – altogether. Fair enough. But nor does it go past various pubs, churches, butchers, or the Civic Square, where Totnes Independent Coffee Festival ends on Sunday with a barista competition. This three-week festival was organized by Transition Town Totnes "to send out a clear signal to any chain coffee shops that Totnes is doing just fine for quality coffee venues and their presence would not be appropriate in Totnes". (Costa has applied for planning permission.) We're proud and protective of our relatively clone-free High Street. Unsurprisingly, there is suspicion of the global commercial enterprise the Olympics have become. There has been scepticism. From the man in the Friday market telling everyone the torch relay was revived in modern times at the controversial 1936 Berlin Olympics, to the woman on the organic veg stall saying indignantly "inside the stadium you can only buy McDonald's and Coca-Cola. The Games are actually being sponsored by Obesity!" Would she be going to watch the torch go by? "I might. But I won't be waving a flag." In Torquay Co-op recently I saw hand-held union flags for sale. I didn't notice any in the Totnes Co-op. But still I've no doubt that, come two o'clock, our route will be as well-lined as anywhere. We'll gather and wave and cheer. Not because we're expected to, but because it would be churlish not to, and we may be many things but we're not that. We'll not just cheer the torch, we'll be cheering Pat Baggott, Bryony Brooks, Anji Chant, Axel Guglielmacci and Helen Youngs, the four inspiring women and one inspiring man chosen to be our Totnes torchbearers. We've got over the heated exchanges in the letters page of the Totnes Times, disputing the "localness" of the chosen bearers. We've moved on. Perhaps there won't be as many union flags waved as in Dartmouth and Paignton, but there will be more open-toed sandals and at least one man in a bespoke bottle green baseball cap bearing the unofficial Totnes mantra: Blank inside for your message. Olympic torch Olympic Games 2012 guardian.co.uk © 2012 Guardian News and Media Limited or its affiliated companies. All rights reserved. | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds Home to the Olympic torch … for 24 minutes: Totnes in Devon. Photograph: David Pearson / Rex FeaturesHome to the Olympic torch … for 24 minutes: Totnes in Devon. Photograph: David Pearson / Rex Features
• Why women's jokes fall flat in the boardroom
  Women often try to use self-deprecating humour to get their colleagues on-side but it raises few laughs Humour is a staple part of any boardroom discussion, as viewers of the BBC's The Apprentice will know. But research reveals that, while men benefit from the use of well-judged banter, the brand of humour used by leading businesswomen often leads to awkward silences and could be undermining their careers. The claim is made by linguistics expert Dr Judith Baxter, who undertook an 18-month study into the speech patterns of men and women at meetings in seven big companies, including two in the FTSE 100. An analysis of the 600,000 words used during 14 meetings, seven led by a woman and seven by a man, found sharp differences between the use of humour by men and women in the boardroom – and how the jokes are received. Baxter discovered that the majority of male humour (80%) in business meetings takes the form of flippant, off-the-cuff witticisms or banter. About 90% of it receives an instant, positive response, usually as laughter. Yet most female humour during the course of a meeting is self-deprecatory (70%) and more often than not (at least 80%) is received in silence, according to Baxter. Perhaps because of the poor reception accorded to women who used humour, men were also three times more likely to use jokes to lighten the mood in meetings they were leading. Baxter, who is due to carry out further experiments on sex differences for a programme to be aired on BBC2 in September, said she believed the culture of male-dominated boardrooms was a challenge to women. She said: "My research has shown that male managers use humour to demonstrate and display their leadership of a team. Their male subordinates will also use 'display' humour to impress a male boss, because it shows they are on the same wavelength. It is part of leadership 'tribe' behaviour which women find hard to join. When women managers use humour it can misfire. This is partly because it is less culturally acceptable for women to use humour and partly because women haven't traditionally been part of the leadership tribe. It is not that women are less funny: they tend to use humour differently. They are more comfortable with using humour in pairs with a friend and less as a means to manage people. When they do, their humour can appear arch, contrived, defensive or occasionally, just mean. "One type of humour women leaders do use more than men is self-deprecating humour… Women would rather laugh at themselves on the whole than laugh at others because it is the safe option. "What should senior women do about it? They should learn to develop the running gag or light, teasing banter with male and female colleagues at appropriate moments such as the beginning and ends of meetings, passing in the corridor, or while making a cup of tea." Hilary Devey, one of the business leaders on the BBC programme Dragons' Den, who made her name in the haulage industry, said she recognised some of Baxter's findings in her own career but believed humour based around self-deprecation could be a powerful tool. "The humour that I first encountered in the haulage sector was earthy and often confrontational, but by either giving as good as I got, or indulging in self-deprecation, it actually made people take me more seriously: breaking the tension before actually getting down to the real matters in hand. I once read that the British use the word 'sorry' in conversation in over 30 different ways that have absolutely nothing to do with apologising, and so too with self-deprecation: all is not quite what it seems." Devey added: "Don't get me wrong, some people put themselves down all the time, and this goes beyond humour – they are just racked with self-doubt and probably need to pull themselves together and stop being so needy. However, for most British people, the key weapon in their arsenal of wit is that of self-deprecation: it is unexpected, punctures pomposity, shows humanity, and can often give you the upper hand as a result." Lynne Parker, who organises the Funny Women awards, runs workshops for women in business to give them confidence to use humour in their working day. She said: "The qualities men are supposed to have, we cannot. We are supposed to be submissive. Women are often frightened to use humour and can come across as austere and humourless. I am not expecting women to go into boardrooms to tell one-liners but it is all about timing, knowing when it is appropriate. Good comedians are very cognisant of their environment – it is about everyday life and what is going on about them. And whether you are a man or woman you should be aware of that in the boardroom." Baxter, author of the study, added: "I am not saying somehow women are deficient. But culturally there are fewer role models out there for funny women too. There are a few, obviously – Ruby Wax, Sarah Millican is a new one that has popped up, and French and Saunders, for example – but if you compare that to male comedians there are hundreds more people can think of." Work & careers Gender Daniel Boffey guardian.co.uk © 2012 Guardian News and Media Limited or its affiliated companies. All rights reserved. | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds The Dragons Den investors: Duncan Bannatyne, Hilary Devey, Theo Paphitis, Deborah Meaden and Peter Jones. Photograph: Todd Antony/bbcThe Dragons Den investors: Duncan Bannatyne, Hilary Devey, Theo Paphitis, Deborah Meaden and Peter Jones. Photograph: Todd Antony/bbc
• UK special forces will stay in Afghanistan in anti-terror role
  Up to 200 British troops will remain after the 2014 pull-out date, alongside 90 training officers Up to 200 UK special forces servicemen are expected to remain in Afghanistan as a counter-terrorism unit after the formal pull-out of British forces in 2014. The news emerged ahead of the start of a two-day Nato summit dedicated to discussing the future stability of the country. The proposed troops will be in addition to the 90 British officers due to stay behind to train senior Afghan officers in what has been described as "a Sandhurst in the sand". It is the first time there has been a recognition that some UK troops will remain in a combat role, even if the vast majority of UK forces will pull out on schedule. A senior British official said: "British forces will not remain in a combat role in Afghanistan beyond 2014. The majority of forces that remain in Afghanistan will be in a training and mentoring role, for example the Afghan Officer National Training Academy. But I would not rule out a small number of forces playing a counter-terrorism role This would be in keeping with how we protect ourselves from the terrorism threat emanating from other parts of the world such as the Arabian Peninsula." The training academy will also be staffed by Americans and Canadians with the intention of tutoring 1,300 Afghan National Army officers a year. Nato hopes Afghan security forces will have grown to 352,000 later this year, though their quality is questionable. Almost all 130,000 combat troops in the international security force are due to leave by the end of 2014, but key decisions on the speed of the pull-out and the composition of any remaining troops will not be made until the middle of next year. The timetable allows Nato to respond to the possibility of Republican Mitt Romney winning the presidency and then imposing a rethink on the withdrawal timetable. Romney's foreign policy views have yet to be fleshed out. Nato is hoping at its summit to announce it has assembled a $4bn (£2.6bn) a year programme to help the Afghan government post-2014 to improve the resilience of the Karzai administration against Taliban attacks. So far Britain, Germany Australia and Austria have committed funds. Nato's planning has been disrupted by the decision of the new French president, François Hollande, to announce he is removing all 3,500 French combat forces by the end of this year, but Britain is relieved he has said troops will remain longer both to remove equipment and train the Afghan army. The French sector is due to be handed over shortly and in practice the French have not been conducting operations for some time in response to the killing of four French soldiers. It is also hoped that the Pakistani president, Asif Ali Zardari, will tell the summit that he is lifting the six-month blockade against Nato supply trucks put in place after US air strikes killed 26 Pakistani troops in November. Nato has also pressed Islamabad to do more to prevent insurgents from taking advantage of the porous Afghan-Pakistani border region to take sanctuary inside Pakistan. "We can't solve the problems in Afghanistan without the positive engagement of Pakistan," Nato's secretary general, Anders Fogh Rasmussen, said. Afghanistan British Army Afghanistan timeline Nato Patrick Wintour guardian.co.uk © 2012 Guardian News and Media Limited or its affiliated companies. All rights reserved. | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds Soldiers from B Company, 2 Mercia on an operation in Malgir, Helmand province. Photograph: Omar Sobhani /Reuters
• London 2012: Cornwall's torchbearers light the way to Olympic countdown
  Famous names carry the Olympic flame at the start of its 70-day journey around Britain – but the real stars are the ordinary people nominated for the task He's known as a "killer" on the water with an icy nerve that has secured gold medals at three consecutive Olympics. But sailor Ben Ainslie confessed to chronic nerves as he stood on the edge of England watching the Sea King helicopter that would deliver the Olympic flame to him on Saturday morning. And by the time the torch reached Plymouth and its first overnight stop, it wasn't Ainslie or the handful of other well known faces carrying it on the inaugural leg of the 70-day, 8,000-mile route who had proved the stars of the day. Across Cornwall, it was the torch itself – and the ordinary people nominated for good deeds by others who carried it – that was mobbed in scenes that will cheer organisers hoping it will galvanise the public before the Games. They would certainly settle for a repeat of Saturday's celebratory atmosphere in July. The only hint of protest was a loud volley of tuts when latecomers threatened to spoil the view of the relay. After surviving a close shave when the flame blew close to his eyebrows, Ainslie ambled rather than ran his requisite distance before handing over to Tassie Swallow, an 18-year-old surfer from St Ives. "It was one of the more nervous moments in my life because it's so special. That particular moment ranks right up there with winning a gold medal," he said. Olympic organisers were breathing a sigh of relief too after successfully negotiating the first of 70 days they hope will build to a crescendo for Danny Boyle's Opening Ceremony on 27 July. As a succession of politicians and executives from Locog, the Games organising committee, repeatedly told us, this was the point when they hoped to take a back seat and let the public define their Games. The hope is that talk of budget overruns, undesirable sponsors and ticket allocation will fade as a celebratory mood takes hold. The relay is a marathon not a sprint, but they made a good start. Watching Ainslie set off from Land's End were the Norris family from Bishopsteignton in Devon, who were first on site at 5am to bag a prime lookout. "We want our children to be able to say to their children 'my Mum and Dad took me there and we were there when it happened,'" said Richard Norris. They were joined by 2,500 others, a Lycra-clad circus troupe, various local dignitaries and a media scrum. It may have been a self-selecting crowd, but it was hard to find much dissent. "It's a big deal for the country, it's fantastic," said Will Rees, from nearby Sennen. Everyone's moaning about how much we've spent on it but this year is going to be the UK's year." Others brought messages from further afield. Shelok and Dawa Tsering mixed traditional Tibetan dress with union flag accessories and clutched a sign reading: "Tibetans are here to support London Olympics". Such was the popularity of the relay that, true to national stereotype, it was running half an hour late by the time it reached Truro at lunchtime amid large crowds estimated at 30,000. There was, though, some confusion as to what was expected of them beyond cheering the torch on its way. Was this a parade, a town fair, or a carefully choreographed promotional vehicle for the Games and its sponsors? In truth, it was a bit of each. But cynicism was left at home by the thousands who thronged the route to cheer the torchbearers. There were 40,000 nominations for the 8,000 slots and the vast majority have an inspirational story to tell. Eric Smith, 76, was awarded the George medal in 1962 as a helicopter rescue winch man on the wreck of the Jeanne Gougy at Land's End. After running the third leg, watched by his family, he said that it had been "very emotional". "It is a little bright light shining in a time of depression and it's just what this country needs right now," he added. Dave Jackson, 61, was nominated for his volunteer work with the coastguard. "It was absolutely fantastic, to see the crowds was so uplifting. I was carried up the hill on this sea of emotion," he said. If it sometimes felt a bit stage managed, it was. The main torch procession was preceded by vehicles from the three "presenting partners" – Lloyds TSB, Coca-Cola and Samsung – doling out promotional items in their brand colours. But if the Coca-Cola "Move to the Beat" bus blasting out Katy B across the bay at Marazion seemed a bit incongruous, it was forgotten by the time the torch arrived. Not everything ran smoothly. There were angry calls to local radio stations from a crowd of hundreds, including wheelchair users, who had been advised to line a road near Marazion to watch the torchbearers run only to see nothing but the convoy speeding by. If there was a common complaint, it was that there was not enough clarity as to when the lengthy caravan would be in "torchbearer mode" and when it would be in "convoy mode". For Hitler, whose Berlin 1936 Games organisers popularised the idea, the torch relay was a mix of Greek tradition and carefully choreographed promotion that could push both the Games and his ideology. Alexandros Philadelpheus, a Greek who helped devise the lighting ceremony, wrote later that it was "chillingly ironic" that a relay designed to symbolise peace had been subverted by Hitler. But the tradition was revived by London organisers in 1948 as they realised its power to rouse a postwar public unsure of the merits of hosting the Olympics in austere times. The parallels are not lost on 2012 organisers who have long claimed that the 8,000-mile trek will be the point at which enthusiasm for the Games ignites. The rhetoric can seem cloying, but those in Cornwall were sincere. "A real community spirit has come through. It's been really exciting and enjoyable, with street parties, school involvement, charity fundraising," said David Bryans, Heritage Great Britain's general manager at Land's End. "It's also been an opportunity to showcase what's best in Cornwall." Locog chief executive, Paul Deighton, said Cornwall would lay down a marker for the rest of the country. "This is the beginning. The beauty of it is that it is for the public to define it. You don't want it to feel too orchestrated." In Cornwall, that meant much mocked mascots Wenlock and Mandeville were conspicuous by their absence and instead local performers such as the Swamp Circus held the crowd. In Falmouth, schoolchildren sang specially composed Cornish songs on the Quay. In the county capital of Truro, a procession of local sports clubs preceded the main event. On and on it went – the flame lit from the rays of the sun in Olympia on 10 May and ferried back to Britain by David Beckham now carries the hopes of organisers with it. To Newquay, where the atmosphere resembled that of a bank holiday, to the rainforest biomes of the Eden Project (where the TV presenter and adventurer Ben Fogle flew with the torch in a helium-filled balloon above the trees), across the Tamar bridge and finally into Plymouth for its first overnight stop. Just 69 days to go. Olympic torch Olympic Games 2012 Owen Gibson guardian.co.uk © 2012 Guardian News and Media Limited or its affiliated companies. All rights reserved. | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds Torchbearer Kenneth Johnson carries the Olympic flame on the leg between St Stephen and St Austell. Photograph: Yui Mok/LOCOG/PATorchbearer Kenneth Johnson carries the Olympic flame on the leg between St Stephen and St Austell. Photograph: Yui Mok/LOCOG/PA
• Nick Clegg attacks the rift between state and private schools' A-level results
  Private school pupils are three times as likely to earn crucial grades, new report reveals Pupils at private schools are more than three times as likely to get AAB in the key A level subjects that help candidates gain access to top universities as those in state schools, according to the first analysis of its kind released by the government. The figures have been made public by Nick Clegg as part of a new initiative to promote "social mobility" to be unveiled by the deputy prime minister on Tuesday. The government looked at those attaining AAB at A level in subjects identified by the Russell Group as "facilitating" entry to their universities – including English literature, maths, physics, languages and history. Under a new social mobility "tracking" system, the relative numbers achieving these grades in private and state schools will be published annually, as will a series of other indicators including access to early years education and entry to the professions. Clegg said there was a "great rift in our education system between our best schools, most of which are private, and the schools ordinary families rely on. That is corrosive for our society and damaging to our economy." He added: "We do need to ensure that our school system as a whole promotes fairness and mobility, that it heals the rift in opportunities. We are committed to narrowing the gap in our school system – state and private – and ensuring that all children are given the chance to rise. The way to do that is to make the state education system better – to level up – and ensure that anyone can get ahead." In an article in today's Observer ahead of an international summit on social mobility being hosted by the Sutton Trust, its chairman Sir Peter Lampl says "education reform still holds the key to breaking the cycle of low mobility". A-levels Nick Clegg Schools Sixth form Education policy Toby Helm guardian.co.uk © 2012 Guardian News and Media Limited or its affiliated companies. All rights reserved. | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds Private school pupils are three times as likely to get top grades at A level, a new report reveals. Photograph: David Davies/PAPrivate school pupils are three times as likely to get top grades at A level, a new report reveals. Photograph: David Davies/PA
• Use 'overdose cure' naloxone more widely, drugs advisory council urges
  Call for health minister to make potentially lifesaving treatment available without prescription prompts fears in some quarters that addicts will be tempted into riskier habits An antidote to heroin overdoses should be made widely available without prescription, according to controversial advice from the government's drugs advisory body. Critics claim that the distribution of naloxone would create a "safety net" for drug users and potentially encourage greater use of class A drugs. But the Advisory Council on the Misuse of Drugs (ACMD) has written to health minister Anne Milton to argue that people working with the UK's estimated 300,000 heroin addicts will be able to save lives if they are given access to the drug. When a heroin user has an overdose, one injection of naloxone revives them from unconsciousness and gives them enough time for medical help to arrive. It is already used by ambulance crews, casualty staff and out-of-hours GPs. But the drug is only available on prescription, which means people working with drug users cannot keep stocks or carry them in case of emergency. The government will be under pressure to ignore the advice, with some claiming naloxone encourages users to indulge in even riskier drug-taking. Others have warned that up to 3% of those receiving naloxone suffer potentially life-threatening side-effects and even that it can be used as a weapon in fights between users. However, the chairman of the advisory council, Professor Les Iversen, told Milton: "The ACMD is not aware of any significant body of evidence that naloxone provision encourages increased heroin use. "The ACMD concludes that naloxone provision is an evidence-based intervention, which can save lives. Naloxone provision fits with other measures to promote recovery by encouraging drug users to engage with treatment services, and, ultimately, keep them alive until they are in recovery." Mike Pattinson, a former probation officer and now the director of operations at the Brighton-based health and social care charity CRI, said: "We know that if people in constant contact with heroin users are able to carry this drug that they will save lives. We would hope that the government acts on this advice because it is compelling." Trevor Ball, 40, a recovering heroin addict, said he had been saved by naloxone when paramedics had been called but believed others could have been rescued from overdoses if it had been more widely accessible. He said: "Drug users don't think about life and death when they take heroin. It is a case of 'it will never happen to me'', so the idea that access to naloxone will encourage drug use is a nonsense. I have been saved by it and I have seen others go blue, go over, and been saved by it." Regulations concerning the distribution of naloxone have already been relaxed in Scotland, where the devolved government is funding the distribution of 10,000 units. Drugs policy Drugs Drugs Health Daniel Boffey guardian.co.uk © 2012 Guardian News and Media Limited or its affiliated companies. All rights reserved. | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds Critics fear that the more widespread availability of naloxone will end up encouraging heroin use. Photograph: Julien Behal/PACritics fear that the more widespread availability of naloxone will end up encouraging heroin use. Photograph: Julien Behal/PA
• Cannes 2012: Why have no female film directors been nominated for the Palme d'Or at Cannes?
  Of the 22 films in contention for the prestigious Palme d'Or, not one has a female director. And while women's lives are getting more attention on screen, the struggle to break in to the rough and tough old boys' club of directing appears as hard as ever Cannes' fabled Croisette promenade was dotted with the customary festival starlets in high heels and glamorous dresses yesterday afternoon. But just behind them, a feminist uprising of sorts was in full swing. Inside a landmark hotel on the seafront strip in the South of France, loud calls for positive discrimination in favour of women's films were being voiced. The impact of British director Andrea Arnold's public anger about the failure to include a female director in the prestigious Palme D'Or line-up continues to stir controversy at the annual celebration of world cinema. Speakers at a Beyond Borders diversity symposium echoed Arnold's complaint that while films from around the globe may have made the shortlist for the annual prize, directors drawn from half of the population have been ignored. At the opening of the festival on Wednesday the acclaimed director of Fish Tank and Wuthering Heights , who this year sits on the Palme D'Or jury alongside Ewan McGregor, said that the lack of women in the selection was "a great pity and a great disappointment", adding that it reflected badly on the film industry. On the beach this weekend after the premiere of the British film, Broken, Arnold was unrepentant, although still limited by the Cannes convention of jury "purdah". "I wanted to put it out there," she said. "I don't want to see positive discrimination at Cannes though. I don't think any director should be included because of who they are." The allegation that unworthy films made by directors from the developing world, or from conflict zones, are included in the Cannes jury's selection in spite of their low quality was dismissed by Arnold. "That is only one reading of what happens. I would say instead that the jury includes films that are political and have something to say," she said. The lack of a film directed by a woman on the list of 22 in contention this year has provoked fiery debate across France. As the festival opened the newspaper Le Monde carried a protest letter from the feminist collective La Barbe, which was signed by notable French female film-makers, including Virginie Despentes, Coline Serreau and Fanny Cottençon. "Men love their women to have depth, but only when it comes to their cleavage," the letter argued. The row comes at a time when the commercial success of films aimed at women is evident. The box office appeal of Kristen Wiig in the comedy Bridesmaids and of the Thatcher biopic The Iron Lady , described on Friday by its British producer Damian Jones as a "mother and daughter film that brought in the whole family", have reached huge neglected audiences. But while there are few women directors, there is an increasing female presence behind the scenes in Britain. BBC Films and Film4 are both run by women and at least three of the producers who have managed to bring British productions to premiere in Cannes this summer are female. Nira Park, the producer of hits such as Shaun of The Dead , has brought out the Ben Wheatley film Sightseers , while Rebecca O'Brien has brought Ken Loach's Palme D'Or contender The Angels' Share and Dixie Linder has brought Broken , the first film from British theatre director Rufus Norris. "Gender is not part of how I see things when I look for a director," said Linder this weekend after the film opened the festival's Critic's Week programme. "In fact I feel that positive discrimination could actually be detrimental. Certainly if they had chosen my film for Cannes simply because I was a woman producer, I would not like it." Linder, whose film stars Tim Roth alongside 12-year-old newcomer Eloise Laurence, added that in her experience finding finance for a film directed by a newcomer such as Norris, despite his theatrical record, was more difficult than for a more established woman director, such as Sam Taylor Wood. Christine Langan, the creative head of BBC Films, said that Britain was lucky to have several strong female directors but that it is unfair to expect them to deliver Palme D'Or prospects every year. "While people like Andrea Arnold and Lynne Ramsay are fantastic role models, their rate of film-making would have to increase considerably to create a steady flow of competitors to Cannes," she said. "I would love to feel that no girl growing up today should think that it is something she could not do, but I don't approach it from a gender point of view. You get very embroiled in each film project and while BBC Films likes to encourage female talent, I am really focused on the quality of the production and so become fairly blind to gender." Until this year it had looked as if everything was moving towards greater balance, both at Cannes and in the wider the film industry. Not only did Kathryn Bigelow win the first directing Oscar for a woman with The Hurt Locker in 2010, but there were four women directors in the line-up of 18 films competing for the top prize at Cannes last summer: the Australian Julia Leigh, Japanese director Naomi Kawase, the French actress and writer Maïwenn Le Besco and Ramsay, the Scottish director selected for We Need To Talk About Kevin . And yet the only woman to win the award in 65 years remains Jane Campion, who received the Palme D'Or in 1993 for The Piano . Three years ago Campion's first new film for nine years, Bright Star , about the poet John Keats, was included in the main competition and the director used the platform to criticise the continued dearth of female directors. "The studio system is kind of an old boys' system and it's difficult for them to trust women to be capable," she said at the time. But Campion also suggested that there were reasons linked more closely to gender, saying: "I think women don't grow up with the harsh world of criticism that men grow up with – we are more sensitively treated – and when you first experience the world of film-making you have to develop a very tough skin." For fellow New Zealand-born director Regan Hall his own gender has not hindered his approach to his first feature, Fast Girls , a female-centred story about British relay athletes to be released next month before the London olympics. "I have never felt that I wasn't qualified," he said. "I have done a lot of filming with women because I have worked in fashion and it never crossed my mind that a woman should be making this film." He added that historically women had developed expertise in other areas of film-making, such as editing, continuity and styling. "There is something about being a director that means I can understand why more men do it," he said. "There are different personality types involved. But I do think that the best way to encourage women is probably to look at a role model and in New Zealand we certainly have a good one with Jane Campion." Cannes film festival Festivals Andrea Arnold Jane Campion Feminism Vanessa Thorpe guardian.co.uk © 2012 Guardian News and Media Limited or its affiliated companies. All rights reserved. | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds Ewan Mc Gregor and Andrea Arnold at the 65th Cannes film festival Photograph: Loic Venance/AFP/Getty ImagesEwan Mc Gregor and Andrea Arnold at the 65th Cannes film festival Photograph: Loic Venance/AFP/Getty Images
• There's power dressing and then there's Steve Hilton | Catherine Bennett
  The singular sartorial style of David Cameron's former adviser smacks not of eccentricity, but arrogance Ridiculously, the search engine for the Freeman Spogli Institute for International Studies retrieves nothing about local dress codes. All that can be assumed from related images is that scholars within this prestigious research centre, part of Stanford University in California, favour dark suits and ties for formal occasions, open-necked pale blue shirts for seminars, accessorised with a pair of trousers and, one gathers, shoes. Steve Hilton, whose arrival at the institute is expected any time, has been celebrated, throughout his residency in Downing Street for coming to the office in a T-shirt, shorts and plimsolls, the latter removed on arrival. There is a hint of the man's daring, perhaps, in the FSI's announcement of its new asset, in which he is introduced to unsuspecting suits as "Cameron's top adviser". His academic function is to "focus on innovation in government, public services and communities around the world". But omitted from this encomium is what must surely pass for Hilton's greatest contribution yet to modern international relations: wearing socks to meet President Obama. In The Language of Clothes , Alison Lurie claimed dress as a means of communication, albeit one which can be a bit one-sided. "Even if we are never introduced," she explains, "clothes tell about class status, age, family origin, personal opinion, taste, current mood or even give information about erotic interest and sexual status." So: Steve Hilton. What have his clothes been telling us or, more specifically, the prime minister and the US president? Not forgetting those bureaucrats who have been treated, these past two years, to his lectures on the uselessness of bureaucrats? Sometimes, given that a Hilton T-shirt might say "Big Society", the message was necessarily incomprehensible. But was there meaningful content, too, in his Bart Simpson-wear? In the Downing Street context – one in which, like many offices, people are expected to dress formally or pay the price – Mr Hilton's creased shorts seem, at their most polite, to have been a permanent reminder to colleagues that he was/is different, to wit, a dashing free spirit, young beyond his years and endowed with creative talents on a scale that liberate him to move on any time his plans for trashing the state should cease to be appreciated by the resident dullards, including the neatly pressed prime minister. His determination to affirm this specialness to Barack Obama through the ancient language of socks is slightly less easy to read and may even have been a miscalculation, given that sock-wearing can mean, in some cultures, "I'm a complete git". Was it wise, now that Hilton has transferred his mission to the States, to advertise his intellectual superiority to the White House's dapper, highly polished black shoe-wearer? Even Hilton's greatest rival for in-your-face sartorial insolence, Facebook's Mark Zuckerberg, wore a jacket, tie – and shoes – to meet the president. Definitely indecipherable, to those of us communicating at a distance with Mr Hilton's clothes, has been their level of hygiene. Now, thanks to the political writer Sue Cameron, who chose the week of Hilton's departure to record a story about his arrival at a policy meeting in shorts and shoe-less, with a plastic bag of oranges, we can experience his clothing in Sensurround. "Mr Hilton started inexpertly peeling an orange," she says. "There was juice everywhere, not least over the crotch of his brushed cotton shorts. Unabashed, he went off to his next meeting – with some military top brass." Compared with this, Boris Johnson's trademark I'm-too-clever-for-my-shorts state of dishevelment is actively ingratiating. Hilton's power stains were a clear "fuck you" to passing dignitaries, more akin to Mark Zuckerberg's historic visit in pyjamas to a venture capital firm called Sequoia, which had previously sacked his partner. David Kirkpatrick , his biographer, quotes Zuckerberg saying he now regrets the insult: "I assume we really offended them and now I feel really bad about that." But Zuckerberg has, of course, stuck doggedly to his old, Harvard genius outfit of hoodie and jeans, Silicon Valley's answer to ermine. "He's actually showing investors he doesn't care that much; he's going to be him," a suited analyst, Michael Pachter , complained to Bloomberg TV recently, having received, accurately, Zuckerberg's message of unshakable entrepreneurial confidence. "I think that's a mark of immaturity," he added, usefully enhancing the young Facebook brand at the same time that he condemned Zuckerberg to a lifetime in formal slobwear. In fact, thanks to Zuckerberg and The Social Network , it could be many years before any other technological visionary gains access to venture capital without being dressed in whatever would get a normal person banned from Tesco. Perhaps this modern adaptation of sumptuary laws, whereby only the very richest and most powerful enjoy a licence to dress like losers, helps account for a reported tendency for Oxford students to arrive in their pyjamas for breakfast in college halls where, since the catering staff are presumably washed and dressed, their disarray can be read as a crass assertion of privilege. Unless, as some disgusted comment assumes, far from being inspired by brainy iconoclasts, the students are simply replicating the habits of that other, growing section of the British population that has taken to staying in pyjamas and slippers for the rather different reason that, like depressives, they see no point in getting dressed. Alternatively, now that leading designers have, inevitably, attempted their own dismal take on outdoor pyjamas, the students may merely attest to the terrifying reach of fashion's Stella McCartney. Whatever the reason, public confusion around the language of pyjamas suggests enough lingering interest in dress codes to make public nightwear a risky choice outside Wall Street. With their hypersensitivity about appearances, our Olympic authorities will naturally be wondering how to raise standards. What will the world make of our pyjamas? Our mayor? Will it be enough to clear the litter, exile Hilton and tie a large label reading "English eccentric" to Johnson's ear? How worrying is it that, in Shanghai, prior to the 2010 World Expo, its traditionally pyjama-wearing citizens proved remarkably resistant to dedicated nightwear police and signs saying: "Pyjamas don't go out of the door"? As so often, President Obama has something sensible to say on the matter. Asked about another clothing nuisance mysteriously overlooked by Tesco – that of visible underpants and low-slung jeans – he rejected official action. "Having said that, brothers should pull up their pants. You are walking by your mother, your grandmother, your underwear is showing. There are some issues that we face, that you don't have to pass a law, but that doesn't mean folks can't have some sense and some respect for other people and, you know, some people might not want to see your underwear – I'm one of them." Bear in mind, however: this was the liberalism of a brother who had never seen Steve Hilton with orange stains all over his crotch. But that is America's problem now. David Cameron Barack Obama Mark Zuckerberg Catherine Bennett guardian.co.uk © 2012 Guardian News and Media Limited or its affiliated companies. All rights reserved. | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds Shabby rider. Steve Hilton arriving at Downing Street. Photograph: Steve Back / Rex FeaturesShabby rider. Steve Hilton arriving at Downing Street. Photograph: Steve Back / Rex Features
• Schools aren't fit for pupils to learn in, warn four in 10 headteachers
  Observer poll finds schools are crumbling despite promise by coalition of £2bn for repairs England's classrooms are in such poor condition that 39% of headteachers believe their school buildings are unfit for purpose, a survey exclusively conducted for the Observer shows. The Key, a national education support service , questioned 667 heads and school business managers on the state of their buildings – 38 complained of dire overcrowding, with the Castle school in Taunton having to pack 1,236 pupils into a site designed for just 600. Another 25 warned that their buildings were a health and safety hazard. The business manager of Collegiate high school in Blackpool said classroom windows had loose glass, the ceilings leaked and pupils were unable to drink the tap water in the toilets. Terry Scott, headteacher of De Bohun primary in Southgate, north London, described it as looking like "a shelled building from some war-torn country". The survey's findings come amid a burgeoning row at Westminster over the funding of the school estate. Within weeks of coming to power, the coalition scrapped a £55bn pledge by Tony Blair to rebuild or refurbish every state secondary school in England – the Building Schools for the Future programme . Ministers said the scheme had been wasteful and bureaucratic. Last July, Michael Gove, the education secretary, announced that the programme would be replaced by a £2bn scheme to rebuild the most dilapidated schools – the Priority School Building Programme. The deadline for applications was mid-October and heads were told they would find out if their schools had been chosen in December. But schools have still not been told – and the Department for Education has given no explanation for the delay. Meanwhile, central government has stripped millions of pounds from local authority budgets to repair school buildings. One school business manager told The Key's survey that her budget for building maintenance had dropped from £120,000 last year to just £17,000 this year, while a headteacher said his had dropped by 75%. Delays and confusion over the funding of the school estate come in the middle of a baby boom which in itself is putting intense pressure on space in primary schools. The number of pupils starting school is projected to rise by more than half a million between 2010 and 2018. Patrick Mercer, Conservative MP for Newark in Nottinghamshire, has attacked his own party for delaying decisions over which of the country's schools are to be given funds for repairs. "Teachers, parents and pupils are extremely frustrated by the delays," Mercer told the Observer . The Grove school in his constituency, a specialist science college, has a water-logged roof and the toilet windows have to be left open permanently as the ventilation is so poor. "Pupils lose thousands of teaching hours because they are sent home when there is a faulty roof. I can only imagine this is being replicated elsewhere," Mercer said. The Key asked state school heads and business managers whether their buildings were fit for purpose – 260 responded that they weren't. Some 49% of secondary schools said their buildings were not fit for purpose, as did 33% of those from primaries. Nusrat Faizullah, chief executive of the British Council for School Environments , said many schools were in a worse state of repair than 10 years ago. "Some are in a terrible – and dangerous – condition," she said. "Headteachers and local authorities had to prioritise where to direct resources for maintenance and repair, influenced in part by the promise of more money for school buildings under the previous government's school building programmes. This meant some schools had urgent repair needs postponed because of an expectation that significant money for buildings was on the way, only for it to be cancelled." The Local Government Association has warned that at least 476 schools have applied for funding through the Priority School Building Programme. Only between 100 and 300 are likely to receive money. A spokeswoman from the Department for Education said schools would hear shortly whether they would receive funds. "We are taking our time to get this right and will announce our decisions as soon as we can," she said. Ministers were making £1.4bn available to address maintenance needs up to 2013 and were investing another £1.4bn this year to create more school places, she said. School building programme School funding Michael Gove Schools Education policy Jessica Shepherd guardian.co.uk © 2012 Guardian News and Media Limited or its affiliated companies. All rights reserved. | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds Richard Lee primary in Coventry needs a new roof, and has damp and mould in classrooms. Photograph: David Sillitoe for the GuardianRichard Lee primary in Coventry needs a new roof, and has damp and mould in classrooms. Photograph: David Sillitoe for the Guardian
• Why males go missing when the going gets really tough | Letters
  Boys are at a biological disadvantage Elizabeth Day's timely article fails to note the male's biological disadvantage (" Lagging at school, the butt of cruel jokes: have males become the new Second Sex? ", In Focus). Every neonatal paediatrician knows that very premature baby boys are less likely to make it. More male foetuses die or are damaged from almost any stress on the mother. Women in places affected by catastrophe produce lower rates of boys nine months later. None of this has social origins, though we can speculate about the evolutionary advantage of producing more males when times are good. (The highest ratio of boys to girls born in England and Wales was in 1944, with social cohesion and peace in sight, and 1973, when inequality was at its lowest ever level.) During the early months of development, when biology and culture intertwine, boys are relatively slow to catch up, especially in social skills. If parents knew that boys were the weaker sex, they would be more likely to make allowances. Dr Sebastian Kraemer Paediatric department Whittington hospital, London N19 It's Ed who loses it for Labour Andrew Rawnsley asks a question (" How can Labour harness the voter rage against the machine? ") to which, of course, he knows the answer. There is nothing wrong in an opposition gaining power based on negative issues that simply promise to reverse some of the more objectionable policies of its predecessor. Rescinding the privatisation of the NHS, ensuring that the most vulnerable and impoverished can live a life of dignity and restoring to our elderly their annual pension increase would probably guarantee a Labour victory. But Labour's problem is not a lack of issues to which a majority of voters would subscribe; its problem is a leader who is lacking in charisma and incapable of committing himself to any policy pronouncements. Eric Bourne Ashbourne, Derbyshire Salute Steiner scholars The notion that Rudolf Steiner schools are a serious threat to education (" Schools of pseudoscience pose a serious threat to education ", Letters) is laughable. The graduates I have met are thoughtful and creative individuals who take an active interest in the world. Visit such a school and you will find (despite a shortage of funds) beauty everywhere, a reverence for nature and a curriculum dedicated to the nurturing of freedom and imagination. Paul Matthews Forest Row, East Sussex Eat GM plants at your peril Your article on GM trials in Harpenden states that pesticide-producing GM wheat will help the environment by reducing pesticide use and pesticide run-off (" Scientists think this town holds the key to rich harvests. So why do activists target it? ", News). However, the article makes no reference to the obvious issue of what happens when humans and animals consume plants that have been designed so that every cell in the plant produces pesticides. These, unlike sprayed pesticides, cannot be washed off when consumed. There are many studies relating GM to increased disease, mortality and reduced fertility in animals, and this is most likely caused by poisoning from the very pesticides that these plants are designed to produce. Philip Ridley London chapter leader of the Weston A Price Foundation, Hemel Hempstead Safety first for Germany Your report (" The €64bn question. Will Merkel listen to Hollande? ", In Focus) claims that Germany "has some of the highest labour costs in Europe". In fact, the opposite is true. From 1999 to 2007, the unit labour cost in Germany fell by 12%, while in France and other EU economies it rose significantly. The wages in Germany, as your report says, are deliberately kept low, but for a good reason – Germany tends to follow its own form of Keynesianism. When recession hits, Germany's automatic safety net – its kurzarbeit programme – kicks in, wherein the government subsidises private employers to keep workers in work, at reduced hours, but only slightly reduced pay, thereby keeping workers earning wages until the economy picks up again. Germany, through its doctrine of austerity, has weathered recession well – it is the only country in the eurozone with GDP growth and relatively low unemployment (7%). One can hardly say the same about France and others who oppose austerity. Randhir Singh Bains Gants Hill, Essex Give gay rights its due In last week's Observer , you devoted a whole page to President Obama's decision to approve gay marriage and the political consequences of that decision (" Democrats acclaim the relaunch of Barack Obama, civil rights hero ", In Focus). Why is it that the Americans regard this as a major issue whereas in this country gay marriage is considered a minor issue that politicians shouldn't be wasting time on in a period of economic stringency? Henry Goodman London NW11 guardian.co.uk © 2012 Guardian News and Media Limited or its affiliated companies. All rights reserved. | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds
• Education: give teachers the respect that their skill and devotion merit | The big issue
  Classroom pressures and lack of support are undermining too many of our committed professionals I welcome the listing of "the flashpoints" in Daniel Boffey's excellent article ("' Give us a little more respect,' demand stressed-out teachers ", News), but I have also dealt with an increasing avalanche of cases over the past year, in which teachers have been forced out through capability procedures, usually because they are considered "expensive", due to their age. Their stress was assessed by medical practitioners, not by the head of Ofsted or his inspectors. Perhaps Sir Michael Wilshaw should be having a word with the inspector mentioned by former headteacher Leslie Church, who said her "hands were shaking", and tell her to pull herself together and get on with her job! Fred Greaves, division secretary Surrey NUT, Redhill It was encouraging to read about the role of local education authorities in Japan, though the role of LEAs in that country is much more interventionist than our equivalent. They held frequent meetings for school managers and teachers in their area; ran subject-specific courses and conferences; introduced and supported government initiatives; booked nationally recognised experts to address their teaching force. Perhaps even more important, they provided the means by which best teaching and learning practice in their schools was identified, valued and shared; they were a sympathetic ear, a "critical friend". Our LEAs ran teachers' centres in which teachers could meet and resource centres containing subject specific materials for browsing and borrowing. These centres are now being sold off. The money that sustained this service is being used instead to tempt schools into academy status. David Curtis Solihull Until the fallacy that teachers work from 9am to 3pm during term time is more widely addressed, some members of the public will continue to have little sympathy with the members of this beleaguered profession. In fact, the job extends well beyond "contact time". Preparing lessons for 20 hours a week fills teachers' evenings and weekends and absorbs a significant proportion of their "holidays". In addition, they must find the time to grade exams, write reports, manage behaviour, provide pastoral care and lead trips. The fact that they are prepared to do this challenging job even as they are derided for their "short" working days and demoralised by the steady erosion of their status is evidence that they are highly committed. Claire Pringle Thatcham, Berkshire As someone who was educated in the independent system but sent my children to a comprehensive, I think that to rebalance the inequality brought about by the independent school sector we need to do more than improve what can be delivered by the state (" Schools alone can't solve our deep divisions ", Editorial). It goes without saying that teachers should be treated with more respect by inspectors, parents and children and that parents should not have to think twice about sending their children to their local school. To this end, it is about time that independent schools lost their charitable status so that the cost of sending children to independent schools begins to price them out of the market. Gilly Cooper GP Redditch, Worcestershire I graduated from university last year with a primary education degree. I got a job relatively quickly and started as a year five teacher in a primary school in September. It was a dream come true. However, the job is nothing like the training. Most of my time was spent in meetings and doing paperwork. As a result of the pressure, I ended up being signed off sick with stress and depression in March. I have now made the decision to leave teaching. If someone who has wanted to be a teacher since they were eight gets so stressed that they end up leaving their job, then something has got to change. Laura Craft Fareham, Hampshire Teaching guardian.co.uk © 2012 Guardian News and Media Limited or its affiliated companies. All rights reserved. | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds
• Dr Gerry Mander: the threapist the stars trust
  How on earth can I issue a report on the media? I don't understand half of them Dear Dr Mander For months now, I have been conducting an inquiry into media ethics. It all seems to be going rather well. We get a lot of publicity and all the big names in politics and journalism are coming to testify. But I have a dreadful confession to make – I haven't the faintest idea what is going on. Really, not a clue. I sit there looking stern and let my young QC sidekick do most of the talking. Sometimes, I throw in a question just to prove I'm awake, but it's always a bluff and I think people can tell. When they're talking about newspapers I can just about keep up. But it's when they start going on about digital this and internet that and multi-platform whatnot that the problems start. And then there's the politics. Special advisers, "text" messages, horse riding, blackberries… what fruits of the forest have to do with the media is anybody's guess. They all seem to know each other and speak code, which I suppose is what I ought to be investigating but I can't make head or tail of it. What am I to do when the time comes to write a report? Lord Justice Leveson Dear Lord Justice Leveson As a senior figure in the judiciary, you are not expected to be familiar with technology, popular culture or the habits of contemporary society. In fact, it is preferable that you aren't. Justice is best served in ignorance of modern life. Ideally, it would be dispensed in Latin. As for the report, the thing to remember is that you are not aiming to reveal some dramatic truth or offer prescriptions that will become law. The inquiry itself is the spectacle and the delivery of the report is, by tradition, a massive anticlimax. As a pillar of the establishment, you are not expected to cause ructions, trigger resignations or upset apple carts. It's all about caveats and whitewash. See Lord Hutton's report into the circumstances surrounding the death of Dr David Kelly for guidance on how it's done. Dear Dr Mander I really am getting fed up with Europe. I'm trying to run Great Britain, which is hard enough when there's no money to spend and everyone is cross and I lead a party of angry gibbons in pinstripe suits. I hardly have any time to play Fruit Ninja on the iPad anymore. So frankly the very last thing I need is incompetent foreign leaders with their silly single currency causing some bloody great crisis all over the place. I've tried telling them to sort it out but they don't seem to be listening. Now apparently I have to make a plan for growth with this new French president who, I'm told, is a socialist. I didn't realise there still were any socialists. Didn't that all stop in 1989? How do I get rid of these dreadful Europeans? David Cameron Dear Mr Cameron Bad news, I'm afraid. Although you may not realise it, you are the prime minister of a European country and so, by extension, European yourself. This is an irreversible fact of history, economics and culture. Some might say the same is true of socialism, but I recommend coming to terms with being European before you tackle that one. Dear Dr Mander I understand the government is to subsidise parenting classes. What could they possibly teach? I have always found a spoonful of sugar sufficient incentive to get children to behave delightfully. Mary Poppins Dear Ms Poppins Your high-calorie regime could be putting children at risk of obesity, heart disease and diabetes later in life. Contact NHS Direct for more advice. To register as a provider of parenting classes, you will need a Criminal Records Bureau check and NVQ Level 2 in childcare. Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious is not a recognised qualification. Dr Gerry Mander shares his consulting room with Rafael Behr Dr Gerry Mander guardian.co.uk © 2012 Guardian News and Media Limited or its affiliated companies. All rights reserved. | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds
• Why blight Indian women with our body fascism? | Barbara Ellen
  Bollywood actress Aishwarya Rai Bachchan is the latest victim of postnatal body fascism Bollywood actress Aishwarya Rai Bachchan, once called "the most beautiful woman in the world" by Julia Roberts, has caused outrage in India by not losing her baby weight quickly enough. A website, Desimad.com, produced a feature depicting Bachchan with elephant sound-effects in the background. Many are raging that she is a disgrace to Indian womanhood and should set an example, "like Victoria Beckham," by getting back into shape. When did Bachchan give birth? Seven months ago. What is her reason for not focusing all her energies on "snapping straight back into those pre-pregnancy jeans!", as the parlance goes? Bachchan says she just wants to "enjoy motherhood". What kind of lame excuse is that? Except it isn't. Rather, it's a nod to a saner time, before post-pregnancy was turned into another torture zone for the modern female. People are forgetting that this used to be the norm. The aftermath of pregnancy was a time when women were freed from "looking sexy" in the conventional way. A sainted space when women could tell lookist society to take a hike – they were busy , OK? They needed to concentrate on their baby. Then arrived the concept of the Yummy Mummy. Suddenly, body fascism crept into the postnatal experience, hunkering down among the nipple pads and Pampers, like some evil, squawking cuckoo. Women had to worry about not only shedding weight, but also shedding it quickly enough. What had always been viewed as a becalmed, no-pressure marathon transformed into a self-loathing sprint. From now on, the ideal would be to look as though, physically, the pregnancy never happened – that one's children were magically discovered beneath the Slimming World gooseberry bush or delivered by the Dukan stork. If further illustration were needed, look at Carla Bruni, being unfavourably compared with her successor, Valérie Trierweiler, at a recent public event. The photos showed Bruni, who gave birth eight months ago, looking slightly heavier than a working supermodel, but mainly looking like she couldn't be razzed to pose or preen. She had that "I'm busy , OK?" new mum thing going on. Which didn't stop her being described as "frumpy", in her "ill-fitting suit". But we're so far gone in the west, we probably expect ourselves to behave like this. So when did India start joining in? I don't pretend to be an expert on their societal mores, but I don't recall them being plagued by size zero or "thinspirations". Maybe I'm mistaken, but I always thought that Indian culture rather mocked western hysterics over body image. Certainly, looking at a list of "Indian beauties who conquered the world" (Zeenat Aman, Lara Dutta, Sushmita Sen), jutting ribs and clavicles do not seem to be in abundance. Looking at the attacks on Bachchan, a terrible thought occurs –have we exported this to the subcontinent, the bad fairy of the west, hobbling over with its beribboned gift of institutionalised body fascism? It's depressing enough that the west makes gloating sideswipes at women failing to lose baby weight quickly enough, but the fact that it's gone international, all the way to India, is guilt-inducing. "Like Victoria Beckham" they say? This means that body fascism could be one of the west's most successful exports. Well done, us! Perhaps we could learn from what happened to Aishwarya Rai Bachchan. Maybe it's time to try to return to the days when women were afforded a bit of time out while they adjusted to motherhood. Just the freedom to stick on a smock-top and relax, without the world shouting: "Shame on you, strange and terrible beast!" or pelting them with WeightWatchers leaflets, and boxes of Alli. As for the hideous pressure to "snap straight back into those pre-pregnancy jeans!" – perhaps it would be best just to burn them in the first trimester. OK, Denise, we know it's been bad… Actress and presenter Denise Welch says that, after ending her marriage to the actor Tim Healy, she was treated "like Osama bin Laden". I'm sorry, but this just isn't true. Welch wasn't held responsible for the 9/11 attacks, pursued for years and finally gunned down by US operatives, watched by President Obama and Hillary Clinton. Therefore she wasn't treated "like Osama bin Laden" in any way, shape or form. I could double-check with the FBI and the US Navy Seals, if you absolutely insist, but just this once, perhaps you could take my word for it. This is an example of what I'd term the Celebrity Hyperbole Mega-Defence. This is when someone feels badly treated, judged, perhaps even persecuted, and makes an outrageous claim of victimhoodthat has no basis in reality. Another example of CHMD was when Heather Mills wept on the GMTV sofa that she was being treated "worse than a paedophile or murderer". Again, however much Mills was vilified, this simply did not happen. Paedophiles and murderers can expect to be locked up in high-security prison wings, sometimes for life, the former with "Nonce" scrawled on their forehead in marker pen. To my knowledge, Mills was not treated "worse" than this. To an extent, perhaps we should sympathise – when modern fame turns sour, it looks about as much fun as a daily public colonoscopy. It's also nice to see a bit of imagination thrown into the run-of-the-mill celebrity whinge. However, too much CHMD (say, the sudden appearance of Bin Laden) and the message is fatally undermined. What these people actually mean is that they feel picked on and over-criticised. Which all sounds highly unpleasant, but ramping it up never helps. This time, the BBC really has gone too far B lue Peter is being dropped from BBC1. This is heresy. They'll be saying everyone was stoned on Play School next (what's that you say?… oh, I see). The BBC's position seems to be that showing its longest-running children's programme only on CBBC is a wise and pragmatic move. Is that all they've got? Hearts and minds, people! Let's be honest, children won't care – they know their way around the digital channels. It's the parents who'll be upset – especially the dads, with their memories of crushes on Janet Ellis. On a wider level, in some hazy but crucial way, Blue Peter belongs on BBC1. It's not just any old programme, it's the manifestation of teatime Britain. It's almost as if, just as the Grinch stole Christmas, the BBC has stolen our kids' teatime, not as an actual meal but as a concept, a tradition. Some shows are like that – acting as televised replacement shakes for the traditional family meal or get-together. Blue Peter has always been a national treasure, with or without the defecating elephants. It should be left where it is, for all time, fixed there with sticky-backed plastic if necessary. Parents and parenting Pregnancy Children Family Barbara Ellen guardian.co.uk © 2012 Guardian News and Media Limited or its affiliated companies. All rights reserved. | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds Pressure after pregnancy: Bollywood actress Aishwarya Rai Bachchan. Photograph: Christian Alminana/WireImagePressure after pregnancy: Bollywood actress Aishwarya Rai Bachchan. Photograph: Christian Alminana/WireImage
• Parenting classes are a good idea. But families need so much more | Observer editorial
  The prime minister's parenting initiatives should offer something for everyone, not just those we see as 'problem' families The arrival of a baby is, more often than not, an occasion for celebration and joy. Ensuring that he or she develops into a rounded human being, capable of giving and receiving love, holding down a job and generally getting on with life without causing undue grief to others, can be an altogether more taxing process. Parenting is anarchic. The skills clumsily acquired by trial and error can fluctuate alarmingly from one child to another in the same family and during the course of each offspring's childhood, as the willing and docile toddler turns into a stubborn four-year-old who knows best. Then there is adolescence. Of course, parents have muddled through for centuries with a modicum of advice and interference from nearest and dearest, so is there any reason why today's mother, father, guardian and carer should turn to the government for help? David Cameron believes there is. New parents are to be given advice "from teething to tantrums", including tips on changing nappies and "baby talk", under a multimillion-pound initiative. A £3.4m digital information service already provides free email alerts and text messages. In addition, free parenting classes will be available to parents of under-fives in three trial areas , to be rolled out nationally if effective, and relationship support for first-time parents will also be offered in pilots from this summer. Cameron has said it is "ludicrous" that parents receive more training in how to drive a car than how to raise children: "This not the nanny state; it is the sensible state." Government entering the private domain of family life isn't new. Labour promised practical help that eventually transformed into a parenting strategy. Every local authority appointed a parenting commissioner who oversaw help, from a light touch (eg a call to a helpline) to voluntary parenting courses and, finally, compulsory parenting classes backed with parenting orders. Unfortunately, these last clad much of the enterprise in stigma. What Labour's efforts did signal is how family life has changed. The golden era, when father worked and mother was a full-time domestic engineer on permanent standby for her thriving brood, is a figment of a propagandist's imagination. Upper-class parents banished offspring to the nursery and the nanny; working-class parents directed their (often many) sons and daughters to the street. Some parents got it right, others didn't. But the extended family was available to soften the blows and offer direction, distraction and hands-on help. Now, with divorce and separation, the arrival of the "blended" step-family, women's move into employment, the shrinking of the family unit and the distance from support networks, parenting can be a very lonely exercise. While guide books and television programmes exist in abundance, they aren't that much help in the heat of the moment, at the heart of the crisis. The miracle is that, according to research conducted by the Joseph Rowntree Foundation , the majority of parents in all income brackets don't do a bad job, often against the odds. However, these are difficult times. Financial crises, unemployment, sexualised culture and the internet jungle all add to the parental challenge. So Mr Cameron's initiative has a place. If, that is, the support offered is of the highest quality (does a consensus exist, for instance, around what constitutes "good enough" parenting?). If too, the role of fathers is supported as strongly as that of mothers and the wellbeing and mental health of both is taken into account. If there is an investment in a buddying system to encourage the less confident to sign up, otherwise those who receive the benefit will be those who need it least. Crucially, what also matters is for the coalition to focus more effectively on what makes a family strong, namely a fair income, employment, decent neighbourhoods, good, affordable childcare, excellent schools and the right kind of interventions early enough to make a positive difference to the 2% of families who are deemed the most chaotic. So, if Mr Cameron's initiative makes it normal to seek help to make the good times better and the rougher periods manageable, then he will have achieved an admirable step-change: a universal understanding that support isn't for the "bad' parent, it is for anyone who wants to make the very best of raising a child. Parents and parenting Family Children David Cameron guardian.co.uk © 2012 Guardian News and Media Limited or its affiliated companies. All rights reserved. | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds
• The Olympic Park – review
  The Velodrome, the Copper Box, the Energy Centre: some fine buildings will grace London 2012. But tawdry compromise is never far away… Here's the thing about the Olympics. It's a magnificent event, engaging, as it does, most of the planet in the innocent idea of playing games extremely well, and if it avoids disasters it can make the host nation feel good about itself. But it is also insanely expensive in both money and risk, thanks in part to the tyrannical demands of the International Olympic Committee, and profoundly unsustainable, as it requires an immense amount of construction for a 17-day event plus 12 for the Paralympics. The numbers don't add up, so the Games are sold to citizens on the basis of promises that turn out to be false. They will increase participation in sport and reduce obesity – they don't. They will boost tourism – actually Olympic cities usually experience a decline in visitors. They will be sustainable, but only in the sense that a space rocket powered by biofuel would be sustainable. They will cost the government £2.37bn, or, rather, £9.3bn; or, if all associated costs are included, even more. So to make the Games work, circles have to be squared, compromises made and deals done. Sponsors become gods, because without them there would be no Games, and the branding police enforce their will. Demands of surveillance and security become boundless. Everything has to be on-message. The contradictions of the Olympics are ingrained in the built fabric of London 2012, which is now essentially finished, awaiting little more than for the meadow flowers seeded in the site's gardens to flourish in synchrony with the big event, and for the completion of the stadium wrapper sponsored by Dow Chemical. It's an urban effort of a scale and ambition that this country has not managed for a long time. It has so far been smoothly delivered, without the baleful stories of near-disaster that accompanied the construction of the Athens Olympics, or the reports of multiple deaths on the Beijing stadium site. There are intelligent strategies for dealing with at least some of the problems that usually afflict the Games. There are several well designed structures and not much that is downright terrible. During the recent test events in the Olympic Park there was some sense of community, arising from shared experience among many people, of a kind that was supposedly going out of fashion. All of which is truly admirable, but it's an achievement that comes with conditions and compromises. The stadium, like all its predecessors, struggles to find a viable future use. The sense of community is for Visa cardholders only and sustained by batteries of Rapier missiles. There is a weird alternation of the profligate and the miserly: to hold the Games at all is absurdly extravagant, and the security budget grows at will, but places such as the athletes' village – where thousands will live in the future – are squeezed hard by time and money, such that they are less wonderful than they might otherwise be. The event is held in the name of the public but its portal is a private shopping mall. Part of what is good about the Olympics is captured by buildings such as the wood-clad, wavy-roofed Velodrome by Hopkins Architects, a structure beautifully attuned to its purpose, spare in construction, which sits on a little hill with elegant festivity. Also by relatively unsung structures such as the temporary venues for basketball and water polo, which are stylish but relatively straightforward ways of getting the job done. Or the Copper Box , a plain but effective container for handball, which is one of the best works of its architects Make. Or the electrical substation , a handsome brick structure by the Glaswegian practice Nord, and the rust-coloured Energy Centre by John McAslan and Partners. Like Olympic sports, these embody the focused pursuit of the good to exceptional in a precise if limited field. A lot of what is worst about the Olympics is captured by the Orbit : the grandstanding, the gesture-making, the unholy alliance of politicians and corporations in making expensive but empty statements that miss out any real connection with the human race. The Orbit, by the artist Anish Kapoor and the engineer Cecil Balmond, seems to be something to do with art, as expressed by its red squiggly form, and something to do with access, evidenced by the stairs rising up it, but the two don't seem very happily combined. The official blather is that it is "very aspirational, in a very appropriately Olympic way": alternatively, you could listen to a man I overhead trying to explain it to his family – "It's what they call sculpture. It's just there to make you ask, 'What is it?' " It gobbles steel, which ruins the justified boast of the stadium that it was efficient in its use of this high-energy metal, and occupies land in a way that complicates the planning of this bit of the site for the post-Olympic legacy. It makes little attempt at harmony with, or even acknowledgement of, its neighbours, the stadium and the Aquatics Centre. And it will cost £15 to go up to the top. I suggest that residents of nearby council tower blocks charge £14.95 to visit their flats. The view will be just as good and visitors would gain a richer understanding of London and of humanity. The stadium itself is nicely lean and taut, at least until the arrival of its Dow Chemical-sponsored -don't-mention-Bhopal wrapper. It is not encrusted, as most modern arenas are, with the flummery of franchises and corporate hospitality, much of which is housed in separate pavilions at ground level. It is the perfect model of an austere structure for austere times, or would be if it hadn't come with the un-austere price tag of £486m, with further public subsidy required to support a future use for it. It is also designed to be demountable, which is sensible, except that when Tottenham Hotspur proposed to demount it to build a viable (if hideous) football ground there, Lord Coe screamed blue murder and had it kept. There is Zaha Hadid's £269m Aquatics Centre , majestic if compromised by gawky temporary extensions to house the seating needed for the Games. There is the athletes' village , where the dogmatic belief that the ideal form for cities is a grid of regular 10-storey blocks concurred with developers' desires to build large, repetitive structures. The result is a robotic approximation of urbanity, in which curves and oblique lines are barely admitted, like a portrait drawn with an Etch A Sketch. And there is the Westfield shopping centre , which is not strictly an Olympic project and would have happened in due course without the Games, but the 2012 organisers are keen to take credit for it and use it as evidence for their theories about regeneration. This is now a throbbing citadel of retail through which most Olympic visitors will be funnelled, but one that doesn't bother much about the faces, or backsides, it presents to its surroundings. Between these dollops of construction is green stuff and air: it is the park that has to make everything cohere and smooth the abrupt transitions between the lumps of building. Designed by the American landscape architect George Hargreaves, it does a remarkably good job, starting with the fact that it pays some attention, unlike most things Olympic, to what was already there. This is a watery place, criss-crossed with bits of the river Lea and associated channels, with multiple changes of level and fragments of its industrial past. As Iain Sinclair has pointed out , much was expunged to make way for the Games, but Hargreaves has the sense to use and improve what's left, creating a closeness to water, a wandering, intricate tissue of overlapping layers and loose, shaggy planting. In places the vegetation is dominated by the expanses of hard surface necessary to cope with Olympic crowds and by the temporary paraphernalia of the Games. At times it resembles rather small pieces of parsley on the large lumps of meat that are the sporting venues. But it's vastly preferable to the arid plazas that usually serve the Olympics, and there is something wonderful about a rustic waterway that winds close to the side of the stadium. After the Games the hard surfaces will shrink, as will the many bridges over the water, and the green will increase. There is intelligence, investment, talent and hard work in the Olympic park and buildings, albeit not always organised in the most useful way. No one could call the progression on to the site, through the razzle of Westfield towards the blank flank of the Aquatics Centre's temporary seating, a well-considered entry to the greatest show on earth. What's more, the good quality design and planning stop abruptly at the boundaries of the park: you don't have to go very far before the stardust fades into the junkheap of Stratford town centre, where worn but serviceable old buildings are overlain by some of the most grotesque public art known to man and overlooked by exploitative apartment towers of developers' tat. During the Games, intense effort is put into throwing metal balls and sharp sticks or cycling in circles, and we are invited to admire not the thing itself but the way it is done. The 2012 constructional effort has a little more purpose – in that it creates a park, thousands of homes and a few other things – but it raises similar questions. As with throwing balls and sticks it shows good technique and fantastic delivery, as well as amazing levels of funding. But could they not be applied more directly to places where people actually live, including those a few hundred yards away? These are the kinds of things usually lacking in new schools, hospitals, housing and public space: why should they be found only within the sacred enclosure of the Games? Architecture Design Anish Kapoor Zaha Hadid Olympic Games 2012 Olympic Stadium London Rowan Moore guardian.co.uk © 2012 Guardian News and Media Limited or its affiliated companies. All rights reserved. | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds The Olympic Velodrome: 'beautifully attuned to its purpose'. Photograph: Michael Steele/Getty ImagesThe Olympic Velodrome by Hopkins Architects: 'beautifully attuned to its purpose'. Photograph: Michael Steele/Getty Images
• Queen's diamond jubilee recipes: salad
  Home-made salad cream makes Simon Hopkinson 's British seasonal salad something entirely wonderful Simon Hopkinson's high tea salad A British "high tea salad" should be something to be celebrated, but rarely is. I associate it, also, with that sinking feeling of early Sunday evenings ( Songs of Praise on the TV, etc), knowing that it was back to school the following morning. Made well, and with care, such a salad – and made in the summer, preferably – can be an absolute joy. The lettuce must be as fresh as can be, and have a good heart of pale green leaves with a touch of yellow. A chosen cucumber should have that intense smell of summer green that lifts one's heart. Tomatoes, naturally, need to taste sweet, and good, but must be peeled here, I think. Spring onions, however you buy them, need a brief trim and a soak in iced water after cutting. Ditto the radishes. The eggs are important: buy the best you can find. Cover in cold water and bring to the boil. Cook for one minute exactly, switch off the heat and leave, covered, for 4 minutes. Cool under cold running water for 5 minutes. The yolks should then be only just firm within. Perfect. Be patient with the watercress, pick it carefully and wash and drain well. I wouldn't dream of leaving out the beetroot, but perhaps it is not your cup of tea. Well, I'm sure it is de rigueur at the palace, on a quiet Sunday evening as the hymns fade away… However, what truly makes this salad special is a home-made salad cream. Something entirely wonderful and well worth the effort. Serves 5-6 For the salad cream eggs 2 caster sugar 1 dssp tarragon vinegar 5 tbsp salt a pinch of whipping cream 250ml round lettuces 4, trimmed of all floppy outer greenery and separated into leaves cucumber 1 small, peeled and thickly sliced ripe tomatoes 6 small, peeled and quartered spring onions 6, trimmed and sliced into short lengths radishes 1 bunch, trimmed, washed and quartered boiled eggs (see above) 4, peeled and quartered or sliced watercress 1-2 bunches, depending on size, washed and picked into small sprigs beetroot 3-4 medium-sized, cooked, peeled and cut into thick matchsticks To make the salad cream, first beat together the eggs, caster sugar, vinegar and salt in the top of a double boiler, or in a stainless steel or china bowl suspended over barely simmering water until thick, mousse-like, and the whisk leaves thick trails through the mixture. (Use an electric hand whisk for the speediest results.) Remove from the heat and continue beating until lukewarm. Leave to cool, then loosely whip the cream and carefully fold it into the sauce. Note: if you feel the salad cream is a touch too thick to pour, thin with a little milk. Now, delicately wash the lettuce in very cold water, spin or shake dry and lay out on to a handsome large platter. Attractively arrange the cucumber, tomatoes, spring onions, radishes and eggs over the leaves, then strew with the watercress. Finally, scatter over the beetroot, spoon over the dressing and serve at once – and before the beetroot bleeds over everything! Simon Hopkinson's The Good Cook is out now, published by BBC books, £25 Simon Hopkinson Food & drink Queen's diamond jubilee Salad Chefs Simon Hopkinson guardian.co.uk © 2012 Guardian News and Media Limited or its affiliated companies. All rights reserved. | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds Simon Hopkinson's high tea salad Photograph: Romas Foord for the ObserverSimon Hopkinson’s high tea salad. Photograph: Romas Foord for the Observer
• Queen's diamond jubilee recipes: meat
  Angela Hartnett 's barbecue chicken and Ashley Palmer-Watts ' lamb chops will ensure your jubilee party is fit for the Queen Angela Hartnett's barbecue chicken with watercress mayonnaise I think the royal family are generally a good thing. The Queen gave me my MBE and I've met Prince Charles a couple of times at events and through working with Slow Food I was lucky enough to tour the gardens at Highgrove. Although I actually met him when I was younger and in the Brownies. We were on a trip to Canterbury Cathedral and he happened to be there, and being a good sport he did a little walkabout. And we've been fortunate enough to have a couple of the royals come to the restaurant, although I can't say who. When you were younger you used to have pretty bad chicken dishes at parties, like the chicken drumsticks people always seemed to eat in the 70s. This is a more modern, updated take on party food, and still very British. We're having a street party near where I live in east London. My sister's on the organising committee with the local vicar. I'm just helping out with the food, so I'll do as I'm told. Serves 8 spatchcock chicken 4 For the marinade thyme 2 tbsp, chopped rosemary 2 tbsp, chopped garlic 4 cloves, crushed honey 4 tbsp white wine vinegar 75ml olive oil 50ml tomato ketchup 2 tbsp Dijon mustard 1 tsp lime 1, rind and juice sea salt and pepper to taste For the mayonnaise readymade mayonnaise 500g watercress 1 bunch, finely chopped Mix all the marinade ingredients in a bowl and season to taste. Cut the spatchcocks in half, season well and rub the marinade over the skin. On a barbecue, start to cook and crisp the chicken skin-side down, turn over and move further away from the direct heat until cooked – around 40 minutes. Remove from the heat and rest. To finish, mix the watercress with the mayo and check seasoning. Serve with crisp green herb salad and watercress mayo. Angela Hartnett is chef patron of Murano, London W1; muranolondon.com Ashley Palmer-Watts' lamb chops, cooked over charcoal with broad beans and mint This recipe is spring on a plate. British produce is incredible in the springtime, and each ingredient in this dish really makes the most of that by being cooked over charcoal. I use the barbecue at home as much as I do my frying pans – and here the delicious spring lamb and the cucumber are chargrilled. I encourage people to use cucumber. Cooking with cucumber is something not many people would think of doing, but it's a very old thing. When we go through old recipe books for inspiration at the restaurant, it always crops up. The flavour of it hot – particularly barbecued – is something else, and the texture is firm but moist. You won't look back once you've tried it. With the cucumber juice and the chardonnay vinegar it creates a kind of cucumber ketchup that's very similar to one we have at Dinner. It's beautiful, and very elegant – perfect for a jubilee party. The royal family are very connected to Dinner, actually, because when we're standing in the kitchen we can see the Royal Horse Guards go by each day. I have to pinch myself sometimes. Serves 4 For the sauce lamb stock 1 litre lamb fat (reserved from making the stock) 1 tbsp sprig of rosemary 1 sprig of mint 1 For the chops spring lamb chops 8 clove of garlic 1 sea salt freshly ground black pepper For the garnish cucumber 1 large olive oil shallot 3 tbsp, finely chopped chardonnay vinegar 2½ tbsp broad beans 250g, podded, blanched and peeled dill 2 tbsp, chopped flat leaf parsley 2 tbsp, chopped To make the sauce, place the lamb stock into a saucepan and reduce to 100ml. Remove from the heat and whisk in the lamb fat and rosemary sprig. Set aside. My preferred method of cooking the lamb chops would be over charcoal on a barbecue, but roasted in a pan over a high heat would also be great. Cut the garlic clove in half and rub each of the chops with the garlic, then season with sea salt and coarsely ground black pepper – lightly press the seasoning on to the flesh so it sticks and drizzle over a little olive oil. Grill the lamb chops on a barbecue each side for 2–3 minutes until medium rare, and then wrap in foil to rest while cooking the garnish. Juice a third of the cucumber and reserve the juice. Peel the remaining cucumber and cut in half, then cut the four sides off the cucumber to leave you with just the rectangular heart. Cut the cucumber sides into 5mm pieces and set aside. Season the cucumber hearts and drizzle with olive oil, place on the barbecue and cook for 2 minutes per side until lightly coloured and soft. Set aside and keep warm. Pour a thin layer of olive oil into a hot pan and add the cut cucumber pieces. Leave to colour, then gently turn to colour further. Reduce the heat and add the shallot and cook for 2 minutes. Deglaze the pan with the chardonnay vinegar and reduce until almost all gone. Add 4 tbsp of the cucumber juice and peeled broad beans and heat gently to ensure the mixture remains moist, season with salt and pepper. Stir in the chopped herbs and serve. Heat the sauce, add the remaining 2 tbsp of cucumber juice and add the sprig of mint. Cut the cucumber hearts in half diagonally, place on the centre of large plate, spoon the broad bean and cucumber mix around and place the two chops on top of the garnish. Remove the mint from the sauce and pour a little of the sauce over the lamb chops. Ashley Palmer-Watts is head chef at Dinner by Heston Blumenthal, London SW1; dinnerbyheston.com Angela Hartnett Ashley Palmer-Watts Chefs Food & drink Meat Queen's diamond jubilee Angela Hartnett Ashley Palmer-Watts guardian.co.uk © 2012 Guardian News and Media Limited or its affiliated companies. All rights reserved. | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds Angela Hartnett's barbecue chicken with watercress mayonnaise Photograph: Romas Foord for the ObserverAngela Hartnett’s barbecue chicken with watercress mayonnaise. Photograph: Romas Foord for the ObserverAshley Palmer-Watts' lamb chops. Photograph: Romas Foord for the Observer
• Facebook is going to need all the friends it can get | John Naughton
  Facebook still has a long way to go to make its value credible The interesting thing about the Facebook IPO (initial public offering) is that there was no first-day "pop". In other words, the shares ended the day trading at just about the price at which they had started. Given the advance hype, this surprised many observers and led some to speculate that the underwriters (the banks that handled the flotation) were discreetly buying shares to prop the market up. So could it be that the world is finally wising up to the truth about Facebook? What is that truth? Simply this: Facebook is an advertising business: last year, 82% of its revenue – about $4 per user – came from that source. Social networking is really just a means to an advertising end. It is achieved by providing an addictive service for millions of people who spend unconscionable amounts of time freely giving away the thing that advertisers really crave, namely detailed information about their lives and interests. But therein lies a serious contradiction: Facebook cannot easily exploit this bonanza because its users obstinately continue to regard the platform as a private space: in a recent AP-CBNBC poll, for example, more than 50% of respondents said they felt "not safe at all" using Facebook to make purchases. Yet Facebook needs them to make purchases – lots of them. Those who know about these things think the company needs to make $20 a year from each user to justify the $105bn (£66bn) valuation produced by Friday's IPO. Power, someone once said, is the ultimate aphrodisiac. Maybe. But money runs it close. At any rate, a reality distortion field (RDF) surrounds anyone or anything that has lots of it. Thus the RDF surrounding Facebook's market valuation produced selective amnesia in many observers who should know better. It caused them to forget AOL, for example, which at its IPO in 1992 was valued at $70m, soared to $150bn 10 years later – and is now worth about $2.5bn. And then there's the RDF surrounding Mark Zuckerberg – net worth currently $19bn plus – which seems to have blinded observers to the uncomfortable fact that the shareholding structure of Facebook means that he has total control of the company. There are two classes of share – A and B. Each class B share carries 10 times the voting rights of its class A counterpart. Zuck owns 27.1% of the class B shares outright and the company's pre-IPO filings to the Securities and Exchange Commission revealed agreements with other owners of class B shares to assign their voting rights to him . The net result is that he has voting control over at least 57.1% of the class B shares. In other words, he's omnipotent. This would be a problem even if Zuck had the brains of Einstein and the wisdom of Solomon. But, alas, he doesn't. He is undoubtedly a smart and talented guy, but he also happens to have a megalomaniacal obsession – that everything has to be social, ie public. And if you're a Facebook user and don't like that – well, tough. So we now have another powerful media company with a shareholding structure that renders its charismatic, single-minded founder immune from shareholder pressure. Remind you of anyone? Hint: it begins with "News". Facebook Mark Zuckerberg Internet IPOs Internet Social networking John Naughton guardian.co.uk © 2012 Guardian News and Media Limited or its affiliated companies. All rights reserved. | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds Monitors show Facebook's share price in late trading on its first day on the Nasdaq market. Photograph: Keith Bedford/ReutersMonitors show Facebook's share price in late trading on its first day on the Nasdaq market. Photograph: Keith Bedford/Reuters
• Bashing the poor still thrives unabashed | Kevin McKenna
  Holyrood witchfinders never rest from finding new ways to persecute those in poverty In the immediate aftermath of the Scottish Reformation, life was hazardous for those who liked malarkey and frolics. If you were lucky, you were merely made to sit on the penitent's stool for the duration of the Sunday worship. If, on the other hand, your libidinous transgression had inflamed the righteous when their blood was up, you risked being accused of witchcraft and dooked to death in the nearest river. Scotland, cradle of the Enlightenment and fount of the new democratic Christianity, nevertheless seemed to have attracted so many witches and demons that Satan must have seriously considered reviewing his employment practices. Scotland was easily scandalised at this time in our history. Any person with an independent mind, a nonchalant attitude to organised religion, and a fondness for a right good drink and some cheerful debauchery, was flirting with catastrophe. They were, as AC/DC would later sing, on the highway to hell. Nowadays, we call them students and journalists, but in 16th-century Scotland there was no way of accounting for such abnormal behaviour, so the women we called witches and the men blasphemers. Apart from being socially gregarious, what they also had in common was poverty. Deprivation and cheap wine had made them unpleasant to behold and also made them prematurely old. Their very existence made civilised citizens feel guilty, so what better way to deal with them than to blame the Devil and make them dead? They were accused of conversing with animals – proof that they had been given diabolic gifts. As I know from personal experience, though, very often it was just the drink talking. Rather than contemplate the notion of a benevolent and all-loving God being responsible for the crops failing or the cattle dying, they would instead blame the scapegoats in their midst: poor, ignorant, ugly and badly behaved women. Having been left on the margins by society, who could blame them if they sought solace in proscribed pleasures? More than 400 years later, the poor, the ugly, the ignorant and the irresponsible are still being penalised. In 16th-century Scotland, you were quite often taxed with your life or your liberty if you enjoyed yourself too much; in the 21st century, we just tax you or put it beyond your reach. Every post-devolution Scottish government seems to be obsessed with how poor people behave and this one is following the trend. Last week, the Holyrood prohibitionists and witchfinders who run our country all filled their boots. Making good on their promise to place the demon drink out of the reach of the feckless poor, they imposed a minimum price of 50p per unit on supermarket booze . In the same week, it was announced that they are giving serious consideration to arming our police force with tasers . This is the same police force that will be largely unaccountable in a new, single, nationwide, private army. And that, over the last few months, has been found to contain senior officers who are corrupt, incompetent, racist and violent. The same class of people who are making this legislation also basked in the glory of telling us how many of those nasty, poor people had been locked up for saying sectarian things to each other. And just to cap a bad week for the poor, there was also an appearance by one of those clowns that Scotland likes to call "benevolent" millionaires. This time it was Sir Tom Hunter. Depending on how many companies he's either bought or wound up that week, Sir Tom is referred to as a millionaire or a multimillionaire. For the last decade or so, possibly because he is bored, Hunter has specialised in taking bright people from poor communities into the hills and filling the gaps that the lamentable comprehensive education system leaves. That means they get two weeks of transcendental meditation, paintballing, ice baths and group hugs. Perhaps too, a wee fire-walk. Last week, he handed down to us his musings on the revelation that in some parts of Glasgow's East End almost nine out of 10 people receive state benefits. There is too much of a handout culture, says one of the richest men in the country. Since devolution, no Scottish government has achieved any success whatsoever in alleviating inner-city poverty and deprivation. The life expectancy of people from the most deprived areas continues to plunge. We could introduce a new monthly lottery in these areas. Each week, we are asked to predict the six magic numbers. These are: average male life expectancy; average female life expectancy; heart disease numbers; percentage with no school qualifications; percentage of unemployed; percentage of those with no car. It's easy to play as there has been very little change in the figures from month to month in the last 20 years. There has been no radical thinking on how to improve failing inner-city comprehensives and no serious attempts to find the root causes of multi-generational poverty. Such projects of course, if properly pursued, would take far longer than the life of a single government. And Scotland has yet to see the professional politician who starts a project for which he can't claim credit a few years later. So, having done absolutely nothing of any consequence to address the obscenity of poverty and deprivation, we now deny them the opportunity to escape from time to time. Extract from the Diary of an Unemployed, Once Law-abiding Citizen Living in Shettleston: Sir Tom Hunter in Daily Record slagging me for claiming benefits. Need a bevvy. Happy hour banned in pub. Sought solace in Lidl. A fiver for six cans and 15 quid for cheap vodka? Blew disability allowance. Got sparkled with the bevvy. Felt good. Sang a few bars of The Sash. Zapped by police cattle prodder. Shat myself. Back of a meat wagon. To London Road police station. Nice warm cell. Food good. I could get used to this. Can they do you for singing the Bangers'n'Mash if you're already in custody? Poverty Social exclusion Scotland Alcohol Kevin McKenna guardian.co.uk © 2012 Guardian News and Media Limited or its affiliated companies. All rights reserved. | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds Nothing is done to alleviate misery. Only ways are found of taking away any pleasure. Photograph: Murdo Macleod for the GuardianNothing is done to alleviate misery. Only ways are found of taking away any pleasure. Photograph: Murdo Macleod for the Guardian
• Why Charles III will be the republicans' best friend | Nick Cohen
  The Prince of Wales with his interfering ways and terrifying belief in alternative medicine will get even worse on the throne A s we prepare to celebrate 60 glorious years of a woman who has done little worth noting, ghoulish questions nag at the back of the mind. When, for instance, will the Queen die? Elections remove presidents in democratic republics. When your country is governed by the hereditary principle, however, only abdication or death can dispense with the sovereign. As Elizabeth II is 86 , and has shown no desire to abdicate, we must wonder when the grim reaper, who scythes down royal and commoner alike, will bring us a change. The first question raises a second. Will the leaders of the British state allow the succession to pass to Charles Windsor, a man whose ill-formed and incontinent mind renders him unfit for the role of constitutional monarch? And if they do, how many weeks will pass before they regret it? Writing in 1776, Tom Paine, a Briton whose life we would do better to celebrate, warned the American revolutionaries that if they accepted a hereditary monarchy: "Such an unwise, unjust, unnatural compact might in the next succession put them under the government of a rogue or a fool." In Prince Charles, we have both. We do not know as much as we should about his meddling in public policy. The last Labour government exempted the royal family from the Freedom of Information Act. (Imagine trying to sell such censorship to the citizens of another democracy, by the way. "We will grant you freedom of information, but following the British model we will deny you knowledge of how the head of state lobbies and schemes.") Despite the unwarranted secrecy, the on-the-record testimony of government advisers and former workers at Clarence House and the off-the-record testimony of ministers tell us that the prince's office badgers politicians constantly. We know from his public utterances that a prince who is not even the brightest Windsor in the park demands a say on education, agricultural and environmental policy, architectural commissions, the response to foot and mouth disease and the banning of foxhunting. The fool and the rogue are seen at their clearest in his interventions on public health. I do not believe that anyone who learns how he has endangered lives, and sought to wreck the careers of men who want to help their fellow citizens, can carry on regarding the prince as a harmless eccentric. The "complementary" medicines he has championed are scandalously misnamed. There is only medicine that works and quackery that cannot stand the test of clinical trials. Last week, the Prince's Foundation for Integrated Health was wound up after a jury convicted its former finance director of embezzling funds – a fraudster among alternative health therapists, who would have thought it? The foundation promoted every variety of dubious remedy. In 2000, the prince backed a guide to "complementary medicines" that claimed that spiritual healing can treat wounds and reduce the side-effects of chemotherapy. In 2005, a report he commissioned about the possible use of alternative therapies by the NHS suggested that homeopathic "medicines" were not sugar pills, but could be offered to treat asthma. "Alternative medicines" kill. They stop credulous patients from seeking reputable healthcare. I have seen false advertising and wishful thinking persuade good people to suffer and die from preventable illnesses. Professor Edzard Ernst , one of the world's authorities on the efficacy of alternative medicines, saw a draft of the report and sought to warn the public, not least because asthma attacks can be fatal. Sir Michael Peat, Prince Charles's former principal private secretary and chair of the Foundation, complained to Ernst's vice-chancellor that he had breached confidentiality. Instead of protecting him, the university subjected Ernst to a year-long inquiry that pushed him into early retirement. The hounding of an honourable scientist may not be the worst of it. Channel 4 showed that, after receiving seven letters from the royal family, the Medicines and Healthcare Products Regulatory Agency allowed homeopathic manufacturers to make health claims on their packaging without providing supporting evidence, which was convenient for the manufacturers because there wasn't any. The prince is Bourbon at heart. He has learned nothing, and is now a supporter of the College of Medicine, set up by senior figures from the Foundation. The name has changed. The belief in magic remains the same. For the inhabitants of a country without a written constitution, the British retain a naive faith in constitutional monarchy. The king or queen, they insist, is not allowed to interfere in politics. They excuse Prince Charles's behaviour by saying that the poor chap needs something to do as he hangs around waiting for his mother to die. They do not understand that there is nothing to stop Charles III interfering as king as he has interfered as prince. He made his intentions plain enough when he told Vanity Fair that he saw the monarchy in "a different way" from his predecessors. If his parents wanted him to rise above politics when he became king "that's their bad luck". It may seem a ridiculous thing to say about a ridiculous man, but there is a coherent ideology behind Charles Windsor's banalities. Its force explains why he will not be able to shut up when he ascends the throne. From his mentor, the fraudulent South African anthropologist Laurens van der Post , he gained a faith in "philosophical traditionalism": the belief that all religions contain the same perennial truths; and that the human race alienated itself from this ancient wisdom when it discovered the scientific method. Hence, his loathing for technologies that might feed the world, his embrace of the Saudi royal family, his support for reactionary versions of Islam and Buddhism, his strange desire to be a defender of all faiths and, above all, his preference for medicines that don't work over medicines that do. The next few weeks will be a lowering time. The BBC has already given us Andrew Marr's unquestioning portrait of the Queen, which was more akin to the state broadcasting of a dictatorship than the free journalism of a democracy. Trust me, it is only the start. Soon, there will be more toads croaking in the media than in the Fens after a thunderstorm. As so often, hyperbole will hide fear. In this case, the all-too rational fear of monarchists that Charles III will be the best advert the republican cause has had since Charles I. Prince Charles The Queen Queen's diamond jubilee Nick Cohen guardian.co.uk © 2012 Guardian News and Media Limited or its affiliated companies. All rights reserved. | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds Prince Charles is very interested in the environment. Photograph: Rex Features
• We've created a society for non-doms, but not for children in our schools | Peter Lampl
  The super-rich are adding inequality to the education system, damning a generation to second-class schooling I visited my old primary school in Wakefield a few months ago. The school looks remarkably similar to how I remember it; the generous classrooms with high ceilings and extensive playing fields brought back happy memories of growing up on a council estate in 1950s Britain. My family moved south when I was 11 and I was lucky enough to go to two excellent secondary schools, one a private school that was state funded and another a state grammar school. I then gained a place at Oxford, eventually enjoying a successful career as a business entrepreneur and educational philanthropist. Little did I or my friends know it then, but we were riding the postwar wave of booming social mobility. My recent visit, however, was tinged with sadness. For what was painfully apparent from talking to the head and visiting secondary schools was that few bright children from areas such as Wakefield now have a chance of making it to top universities. From the outskirts of Liverpool in the north to the coastal communities of Kent in the south, large swaths of the country have become educational wastelands – where children, despite their talents, face the bleakest of life prospects. In London, meanwhile, where I now live, a very different phenomenon has transformed the capital's most sought-after postcodes. The latest figures suggest that the rich from outside the UK now purchase the vast majority of super-prime property in London. Belgravia, Mayfair, Knightsbridge, Notting Hill, Chelsea and even exclusive enclaves in the home counties are becoming non-British zones. It is not London's weather that attracts the wealthy from overseas; for many, it is its non-domicile tax status. Among major countries, only in the UK do we allow wealthy foreigners to be permanent residents and not declare their worldwide income and pay tax on it. Instead, they make a one-off payment of £30,000 a year and pay tax on UK source income, which many do not have. At the same time, the UK is renowned for having the best private education money can buy. This is a powerful mix: estimates are that there are more than 200,000 non-doms living in the UK, and it's increasing every year. Understandably, there is little sympathy for the homegrown millionaires being priced out of the market. But it is the ripple effect that inflates all house prices that hurts everyone – from the family trying to secure their first mortgage to the fresh graduates (increasingly burdened by debt) renting their first flats. It also means that the UK's already very high Gini coefficient, a measure of inequality, is understated because it does not include the effect of non-doms, which is why we have asked the London School of Economics to try and estimate the UK's true level of inequality. What do these trends in modern Britain have in common? Well, both are examples of the links between inequality, education and social mobility. When the Sutton Trust first funded the LSE to research Britain's declining social mobility in 2005, it highlighted two driving factors: widening gaps between the rich and poor, and increasing inequalities in educational opportunities. The latest evidence from an international summit the Sutton Trust is hosting with the Carnegie Corporation in London sheds new light on these drivers. It reveals how greater income inequality leads to a cycle of ever-increasing opportunity gaps between rich and poor. At the same time, educational qualifications have increasingly become the golden tickets to the professional elites and higher earnings. And so the cycle goes on. Income inequality and educational inequality reinforce each other in an endless generational feedback loop leading to an increasingly ossified society. The signs of this social mobility arms race are all around us: higher school fees, inflated house prices around the best state schools, escalating levels of private tuition, companies coaching students on how to get into the best universities. And the outcomes, as our research has shown, are clear. Despite making up only 7% of schools, the privately educated make up the lion's share of the cabinet, high court judges, top journalists, even leading people in sports and entertainment. I agree with Michael Gove that this dominance is "morally indefensible". It also highlights the huge waste of talent across the country that threatens its economic future and it comes at an economic cost. The most pressing social and long-term economic challenge the country faces is creating a more mobile society amid a world of widening inequality. It is why our meeting of international experts and major politicians is focusing on the four major Anglophone countries – the United Kingdom, the United States, Canada and Australia. Wealth gaps in the four countries are, by international standards, similar. However, Canada and Australia are far more mobile than the UK and the US, which are the least socially mobile advanced countries. We want to find out the reason behind this and whether policies to improve mobility can be replicated in the UK and the US. What is to be done in Britain? My view is that there are some simple things we could do, not least introducing the same taxes for the non-domiciled rich as for everyone else. But education reform holds the key to breaking the cycle of low mobility. In the UK, education gaps between rich and poor widen as children age, the outcome of our highly socially stratified school system. To counteract this, I think we should introduce ballots for over-subscribed state schools. We need to focus far more attention on teachers and far less on school structures. Improving the bottom 10% of teachers and making them average would dramatically boost the country's education rankings from 23rd in the world to fifth. The trust is working on proposals to improve the impact of teachers, considering ways of developing and rewarding our best teachers, and dealing with those who continually under-perform. We should also increase public spending on universities so that the average tuition fee is around £6,000 a year and is means tested, as in the US. We spend far less public money on higher education than other countries and the notion that a kid from a council estate and one who has been at boarding school should pay the same is ludicrous. Last but not least, we should introduce means-tested fees to democratise entry to our leading independent day schools, so that bright children from all backgrounds can benefit. While we need to improve provision for able children in state schools, this should go hand in hand with opening up independent day schools. In fact, before 1976, 70% of these schools were principally state funded. This is the only way to enable children from places such as Wakefield to once again be given the chances that I benefited so much from. Sir Peter Lampl is chairman of the Sutton Trust and the Education Endowment Foundation Social mobility Education policy Schools Peter Lampl guardian.co.uk © 2012 Guardian News and Media Limited or its affiliated companies. All rights reserved. | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds Children taking part in an exam. Social mobility depends on giving them a chance tp succeed whatever their background. Photograph: Steve Lyne/REX FEATURESChildren taking part in an exam. Social mobility depends on giving them a chance to succeed whatever their background. Photograph: Steve Lyne/REX FEATURES
• What the royals eat at home
  The Queen likes cereal kept in Tupperware and her guests to be piped in to dinner. Rachel Cooke lifts the lid on the royals' appetites and their love of all things eggy In 2006, a story appeared in the newspapers, courtesy of Jeremy Paxman, who had been staying at Sandringham while researching his latest book, On Royalty . The gist of it was that the Prince of Wales was so fussy about his soft-boiled eggs that his staff would prepare up to seven for him every morning in the hope that at least one would be done to perfection. When I first heard this, I clapped my hands together in glee. It seemed so perfect, so of a piece with what one already believed of Charles (unable even to put his own toothpaste on his toothbrush). Soon after, though, there came – boo! – a rebuttal. No, said a spokesman for Clarence House. Paxman's anecdote was "totally untrue". The Prince of Wales would eat his egg irrespective of whether or not its yolk was sufficiently runny. As denials go, this one was swift, and absolute. But it was also, to my mind, a failure. For one thing, it implicitly suggested that Charles thought himself quite the hero for ploughing manfully through a hard, dry egg. For another, more egg stories soon followed in its wake. Two years later, Mervyn Wycherley, Charles's private chef during his first marriage, revealed that the prince's security detail would inform the kitchen as soon as HRH was on his way home for tea. "His eggs had to be boiled for exactly four minutes," said Wycherley. "It was never anything other than a four-minute egg. His detectives radioed his ETA ahead. I always kept three pans boiling – just to be safe." What is it with the royal family and eggs? If we are to believe Charles Oliver, a servant who worked at Buckingham Palace under Victoria, George VI and Queen Elizabeth II, and whose "lost" diaries were eventually used, in 2003, as the basis for a rather odd book called Dinner at Buckingham Palace , the royals have a "passion" for them. Like the rest of us, they like them scrambled, fried, boiled and poached, but they also enjoy them en cocotte à la crème (baked with cream, a treat they like to accompany with minced chicken); plat chasseur (garnished with chicken livers and a sauce of white wine, consommé and herbs); and farcis à la Chimay (stuffed with mushrooms and coated with Mornay sauce). Every day begins with an egg, and they're eaten for tea, too – with crumpets, if you're Prince Charles. The Queen favours brown eggs, believing that they taste better. Her great-great grandmother, Queen Victoria, ate her boiled egg, served in a golden egg cup, with a golden spoon. Leaving aside the indelicate fact that constipation must surely be endemic in the royal palaces, this passion for eggs – such an everyday foodstuff and yet one that can be gussied up to a quite epic degree should cook be in possession of a sufficiently old-fashioned recipe book and large quantities of gelatin – pretty much sums up the royal family's attitude to food. The modern royals, by which I mean Victoria onwards, have often managed to combine an unbounded extravagance with a certain ersatz asceticism. Queen Victoria, who was convinced that "things taste better in smaller houses", favoured plain food, a fact that set her against the fashion of the day, when French cuisine was all the rage (she had a French chef herself, in the form of Charles Elmé Francatelli, until he hit a maid and was dismissed). At home, she favoured pies and invalid soups – pearl barley or potato – washed down with her favourite drink, a mixture of claret and whisky. On the other hand, when she visited Hatfield House, the home of the Marquess of Salisbury, in 1846, her host felt obliged to spend some £75,000 (at today's prices) on food and drink for a three-day visit (£800 on turtle soup alone). She believed, too, in keeping an "imperial" table: one commensurate with her great nation's place in the world. Dinners were elaborate, and, at lunch, curry and rice were always available, served by two Indian servants in elaborate uniforms of blue and gold. Admittedly, these things do sometimes skip a generation. While he waited to become king, her son, Edward, the Prince of Wales, developed more lavish tastes. Abstemious he most certainly was not. A cooked breakfast would be accompanied by roast chicken and lobster salad to tide him over until lunch, which would itself consist of eight courses. This was followed by high tea, and then a dinner of 12 courses: two kinds of soup, whole salmons and turbots, vast saddles of mutton and sirloins of beef, not to mention several game birds, some devilled herrings and plenty of cheese. Finally, before bedtime, he would squeeze in a light supper of cakes and savouries. Edward, the playboy king, was so greedy that, at the theatre or opera, he would insist on an hour-long interval in order that he might take his supper in the royal box. Six heaving hampers of food – plovers' eggs, cold trout, Parisian pastries – would duly be delivered by the palace. George V was more modest: before he came to the throne, he lived in the relatively low-key York Cottage, on the Sandringham estate. It was decorated with new furniture, not old, as if he and his bride, the future Queen Mary, were just an ordinary middle-class couple, and he passed his time mostly in killing animals and tending his stamp collection. So when the First World War broke out, four years into his reign, it was perhaps unsurprising that Mary insisted on rationing in the palace – by some accounts even before the public was subjected to it. No one, according to her edict, was to eat more than two courses for breakfast, and the royal chefs were encouraged to create mock cutlets from minced meat. For his part, George prohibited the drinking of wine as long as the war lasted, and was happy to eat thin soup for elevenses, and mashed potato with everything. Such deft PR continued with George VI, who also observed rationing during the Second World War. But George was married to Queen Elizabeth, the Queen Mother – a woman more royal than the royals. Last year, a collection of recipes by former staff and guests at the Queen Mother's Scottish house, the Castle of Mey, was published, with a foreword by her ever-devoted grandson, Prince Charles – and just reading it is enough to make the arteries harden. Elizabeth loved After Eight ice cream (to make quantities for six people you will need two boxes of After Eights and no fewer than six egg yolks), the Soufflé Rothschild created by Carême (its essential ingredient is Goldwasser, a strong liqueur containing flakes of gold leaf) and – what did I tell you about eggs? – Oeufs Drumkilbo, a sort of prawn-cocktail-meets-eggs-mayonnaise dish which she liked to serve on picnics. (Drumbilko is the next estate to Glamis Castle, the Queen Mother's childhood hood; this dish was also served at the wedding of Prince Andrew and Sarah Ferguson in 1986). And so it continues, the strange coupling of decadence and moderation. The royals remind me of the friend who points out, when the bill comes, that they did not have pudding – shortly before announcing they are off to their new second home for the weekend. We know that the Queen favours Tupperware, the better to keep her breakfast cereal fresh. We know she likes Irish stew, rissoles (pheasant, preferably), and a good cup of tea. But we know, too, that every morning she writes her heart's desires in her menu book for the staff, that diners at Balmoral are piped into dinner, that footmen abound in all her homes. The Duke of Edinburgh is said to be obsessed with barbecuing in quiet corners of his wife's estates, but is it really him who loads up the Land Rover with charcoal? And when we're told that he takes his electric frying pan everywhere, who is it, I wonder, who packs it for him? As for Prince Charles's instructions to his cook not to waste the lovage that grows tall in the Highgrove kitchen garden – it must be used for soup! – this sounds admirable only until you remember that Charles' household is 159 strong, and that his personal spending rose last year by some 50%. How much do royal tastes influence the rest of us? Not much is the truth. Victoria and Albert might have introduced us to the Christmas tree, but we can't blame them for the turkey; they usually had beef (though on one occasion, or so I read, they enjoyed a swan). There is coronation chicken, invented by Constance Spry and Rosemary Hume for the banquet to mark the Queen's coronation in 1953 (I don't know whether the Queen likes coronation chicken herself but, made right, with poached chicken rather than leftovers, and a light dressing rather than a slick of mayonnaise and curry powder, it is delicious). There is Prince Charles's range of organic Duchy Originals, though when you see how much HRH's oat cakes, jam and herbal tea cost, what you feel mostly is the need to run in the direction of Lidl. But very little else. If anything, they're rushing towards us these days. The Duchess of Cambridge shops at Spar, Morrison's and Waitrose – she pushes her own trolley! – and at an Anglesey butcher, where she was seen spending 82p on lamb's liver to make a gravy for a pie (contrast this with the San Lorenzo-loving Princess Diana, whose cooking skills were so limited her chef had to leave her a note explaining how to operate the microwave). I know there are those who feel that while the most prominent family in the land continues to stalk and to shoot, blood sports will never be outlawed. But since I am not anti these things, I can't say I mind terribly much. I once went stalking in Scotland for this magazine, and the experience was so bone-achingly exhausting, I began to think Charles might be tougher than he sometimes seems. For my own part, I associate the royal family very strongly indeed with icing. To be specific, with the bright blue and red icing I used to decorate some cakes I made with my stepmother when it was the Queen's silver jubilee. (Ah, the innocence of 1977, when all the world was one giant street party!) And with a certain kind of kitschy biscuit tin. The other day, in Marks & Spencer, I found my hand hovering for longer than it should have done over a tin of Diamond Jubilee shortbread. It was very pretty; quite understated as royal souvenirs go. I resisted, that day. But I know in my bones such a tin will eventually find its way into my shopping basket. Shortbread is always delicious – whether your attitude towards it is ironic, or not. Food & drink The Queen Prince Charles Queen's diamond jubilee Monarchy Rachel Cooke guardian.co.uk © 2012 Guardian News and Media Limited or its affiliated companies. All rights reserved. | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds Queen Elizabeth II smiles as she opens the refurbished East Wing of Somerset House Photograph: Getty ImagesQueen Elizabeth II smiles as she opens the refurbished East Wing of Somerset House Photograph: Getty ImagesQueen Elizabeth II smiles as she opens the refurbished East Wing of Somerset House Photograph: Getty Images
• Nigel Slater's diamond jubilee recipes
  With the Queen's diamond jubilee, it seems fitting to have a celebratory feast. There's cold ham and cucumber salad, egg mayonnaise cumin-seed rolls, a gooseberry trifle and strawberries and cream cocktails Smoked ham and cucumber salad A rearrangement of the classic British ham sandwich. Serves 4-6 smoked ham in the piece 500g cucumber ½ cornichons 75g cream cheese 200g grain mustard 1 tbsp watercress or pea shoots 4 handfuls Bring the ham to the boil in deep water, skim off any froth, then let it simmer for half an hour till warm and soft. When cool enough to handle, remove from the water and break it into large, juicy lumps, about the right size for a fork. Cut the cucumber, peeled if you wish, in half lengthways, then into pieces the thickness of a pound coin. Halve the cornichons lengthways and drop them into the bowl with the ham. Add spoonfuls of cream cheese, a little salt and ground pepper, the mustard and the watercress or pea shoots. Toss the salad together gently then serve. Egg mayonnaise toasted cumin-seed rolls Makes 6 eggs 6, hard boiled cumin seeds 1 tbsp mayonnaise 6 heaped tbsp rolls 6 sprouted seeds 6 handfuls Cook the eggs in boiling water for a few minutes till they are almost hard boiled. (You know exactly how you like your eggs.) Cool them in cold running water. Peel and then mash them lightly with a fork or roughly chop them. Toast the cumin seeds for a couple of minutes in a frying pan, till they are fragrant. Grind them coarsely with a pestle and mortar or any heavy weight such as a rolling pin, then add them to the eggs. Stir in the mayonnaise. Season generously with salt and freshly ground black pepper. Split the rolls in half, then stuff them with cumin egg mayonnaise. Add the sprouted seeds and serve. Smoked trout fish fingers A home-made version of the traditional fish finger. Serve with soft English lettuce and creamed horseradish. Serves 4 large potatoes 600g, peeled and boiled butter a little smoked trout 300g fresh horseradish 1 tsp, grated, to taste egg 1 fresh breadcrumbs 150-200g To serve lettuce, lemon and horseradish cream Pre-heat the oven to 200C/gas mark 6. Peel the potatoes, cut them into large pieces and boil them in deep, lightly salted water till tender. Drain and mash with the butter. Break the smoked trout into small pieces and add to the potato. Grate in about a teaspoon of fresh grated horseradish. Season generously. Mix gently, then break off 8 pieces and pat them into fish finger-type shapes. Refrigerate for about half an hour to firm the mixture. Break the egg into a small, shallow dish, mix lightly with a fork, and roll the fish fingers in it, then put them into the breadcrumbs and roll them to cover all sides with crumbs. Place on a baking sheet in a pre-heated oven, trickle over a little oil, and bake for about 20 minutes, or fry in shallow oil till crisp. Serve with lettuce, lemon and horseradish cream. Jubilee trifle You will be left with a little extra sponge cake. It will keep for a few days or can be frozen for a later date. Serves 8 For the sponge butter 175g caster sugar 175g eggs 2, large self-raising flour 175g elderflower cordial 150ml For the fruit gooseberries 450g sugar 4 tbsp water 6 tbsp For the custard double cream 500ml vanilla pod 1 eggs 2 egg yolks 2 caster sugar 2-3 tbsp, to taste To decorate whipping cream 750ml small flowers, such as rosemary a few crystallised roses Pre-heat the oven to 180C/gas mark 4. To make the sponge, beat the butter and sugar till pale and creamy. Fold in the eggs, lightly beaten, and then the flour. Transfer to a lined, square, 22cm cake tin, and bake for 35-40 minutes in the pre-heated oven, till a skewer inserted in the middle comes out clean. Allow to cool. Break about half of the sponge into pieces, saving the rest for later. Put the crumbled sponge into the bottom of a large serving dish, then pour on the elderflower cordial. Top and tail the gooseberries, put them in a pan with the sugar and water, and bring to the boil. Simmer for about 10-15 minutes until the gooseberries collapse, then spoon over the soaked sponge cake. Make the custard. Warm the cream and the vanilla pod over a gentle heat till almost boiling. Set aside, covered with a lid, for 10 minutes for the cream to infuse with vanilla. Put the eggs and yolks into a bowl with the sugar and whisk for a couple of minutes till pale and thoroughly mixed. Pour in the warm cream, minus the vanilla pod, and stir to mix. Transfer to the saucepan in which you boiled the cream and place over a moderate heat, stirring regularly, while the custard warms. Regular stirring is essential if the custard is not to curdle. As soon as the custard starts to feel heavy on the spoon, take the pan off the heat and pour the custard into a cold bowl. Stir regularly as it cools. Pour the custard on top of the soaked sponge cake and berries. Whip the cream very softly. It shouldn't be so stiff it will stand in peaks. Spoon in dollops around the edge. Decorate to your heart's content. I used rosemary flowers, gooseberry leaves and a little of the strawberry sugar left over from the cocktails in the following recipe. Strawberry cream cocktail Makes 8 For the strawberry sugar caster sugar 125g strawberry 1 large For the drink ice 300g strawberries 400g caster sugar 3 tbsp gin 250ml double cream 250ml strawberries for decoration Whiz the 125g of caster sugar with the strawberry in a blender till you have pink sugar. Tip on to a plate, then dip the rims of the glasses into the mixture. Blitz the ice and strawberries in a blender. Add the sugar and then the gin. Pour into the sugared glasses, then whip the cream until it will just slowly slide off the spoon, then spoon into the cocktails. Add a few slices of strawberry to the top. Food & drink Queen's diamond jubilee Nigel Slater guardian.co.uk © 2012 Guardian News and Media Limited or its affiliated companies. All rights reserved. | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds Nigel Slater's ham and cucumber salad. Photograph: Jonathan Lovekin for the ObserverNigel Slater's ham and cucumber salad. Photograph: Jonathan Lovekin for the ObserverSmoked ham and cucumber salad Photograph: Jonathan LovekinEgg mayonnaise toasted cumin-seed rolls Photograph: Jonathan LovekinSmoked trout fish fingers Photograph: Jonathan LovekinJubilee trifle Photograph: Jonathan LovekinStrawberry cream cocktail Photograph: Jonathan Lovekin
• Queen's diamond jubilee recipes: dessert
  Round off your Queen's diamond jubilee party with chocolate pots from Marcus Wareing and Clare Smyth 's Eton mess Marcus Wareing's chocolate pots with salted caramel centre and banana ice cream I had the pleasure of cooking a dessert for the Queen's 80th birthday some years ago and it was a massive honour although a little intimidating. I am hugely proud to be British and use British produce wherever we can. This country offers a diverse range of ingredients that depend on seasons but are truly fabulous especially in June when we will be celebrating the Queen's Diamond Jubilee. A dish fit for royalty or our Queen is tricky – I imagine she likes good home cooking like the rest of us. Nothing too fussy but with good flavours. I remember the Silver Jubilee in 1977 and one of my favourite desserts at the time, being a child, was a simple banana split. This dish is slightly reminiscent of this old British classic. It is very simple to make and perfect for a dinner party or family celebration – and possibly even the Queen. I am looking forward to the jubilee weekend when I will celebrate being British! The addition of the ice cream works really well with the richness of the chocolate, but if you don't have time to prepare your own in advance then a classic bought vanilla would also work. Makes 8-10 100g pots For the salted caramel insert glucose syrup 125g caster sugar 180g whipping cream 170ml unsalted butter 75g salt 7.5g For the chocolate mixture whipping cream 250ml whole milk 200ml vanilla pods 4, pods split and seeds scraped out egg yolks 5 caster sugar 50g Valrhona 70% dark chocolate 450g, broken up For the banana purée caster sugar 260g fresh, overripe bananas 1.6kg, chopped crème de banane 125ml dark rum 65ml For the banana ice cream full-fat milk 500ml whipping cream 500ml egg yolks 9 caster sugar 165g banana purée 400g (from recipe above) First make the salted caramel inserts. Soak the glucose and sugar with a little water and put on a high heat. Once dark caramelisation is reached, slowly incorporate the cream. Keep simmering the mixture until the ingredients are fully combined and a thick consistency is achieved. Whisk in the butter and salt, then strain through a sieve and chill. Once cold, divide the mixture into 10g lumps, then shape into balls and set in the fridge until needed. You can freeze any remaining mix to use for another occasion. To make the chocolate pots, bring the cream, milk and vanilla to the boil. Whisk the egg yolks and sugar together in a separate bowl, and pour in the hot cream, to temper (stabilise) the mixture. Pour back into the pan and cook until the mix coats the back of the spoon. Pour through a fine sieve over the broken-up chocolate. Allow to sit for a couple of minutes for the cream mix to melt the chocolate, then mix till smooth. While the mix is still warm, spoon into small pots suitable for the oven, ensuring the mix is as flat as possible. Allow 15 minutes to semi-set. Push a caramel insert into the centre of each chocolate pot and freeze. When ready to cook, place in a preheated oven at 180C/gas mark 4 for 6 minutes. To make the banana purée, lightly caramelise the caster sugar, add the chopped bananas and cook out until the banana starts to break down to a purée. Add the crème de banane and rum and cook further until a thick purée is formed. Purée in a blender and push through a sieve (using the back of a spatula or a ladle) to remove all lumps. To make the banana ice cream, bring the milk and cream to the boil. Whisk egg yolks and sugar together in a separate bowl, then pour in a little of the hot milk and cream mix. Whisk back into the pan and keep over a low heat, stirring until the mix coats the back of a spoon. Add the banana purée then sieve to remove lumps, and chill. Serve the pots with the banana ice cream or a classic bought vanilla. Marcus Wareing runs Marcus Wareing at the Berkeley, London SW1 and the Gilbert Scott, London NW1; marcus-wareing.com , thegilbertscott.co.uk Clare Smyth's wild strawberry and lemon balm Eton mess, with strawberry ripple ice-cream sandwich I can't think of a more iconic summertime dessert than the Eton mess. It's so quintessentially British, evoking images of freshly cut lawns and white tablecloths at royal events. The real beauty of an Eton mess, though, is that you can make it as simple or complicated as you want; when the strawberries come into season and are sweet and fragrant, they really need very little more than some fresh cream and crisp meringues to make them sing. However, to elevate it to three-star standard, I like to tart it up a bit by adding the wild strawberries and surprising elements like the ice-cream sandwich, which is a lovely nostalgic nod to the baked Alaskas we enjoyed as kids – who couldn't be excited by blow-torched ice cream? It also provides a different texture in the mouth. The lemon balm has a wonderful, distinctive flavour of minty lemon, and adds a punchy freshness that cuts through all the creamy elements. This version of the Eton mess was something I initially made as a pre-dessert in the restaurant, but everyone who ate it loved it so much we kept it on the menu as a proper pudding. People even phone up ahead of their meal to check it's on the menu, which is the best testament I could ask for. You can use decent quality vanilla ice cream and strawberry sorbet in place of these home-made versions. Serves 6 strawberries 1 punnet lemon balm 1 bunch wild strawberries 1 punnet For the dried meringue egg whites 75g caster sugar 150g For the Italian meringue egg whites 100g sugar 150g water 50ml For the strawberry sauce fresh strawberry purée 250ml sugar 20g For the vanilla cream vanilla pod ½ crème fraîche 50ml lightly whipped cream 50ml icing sugar to taste For the almond biscuit sugar 40g butter 50g cream 20ml pectin powder 1.5g glucose syrup 20ml nibbed almonds 50g For the vanilla ice cream milk 250ml cream 250ml vanilla pods 2 whole egg yolks 110g sugar 60g For the strawberry sorbet fresh strawberry purée 500ml water 200ml sugar 100ml To make the dried meringue, whisk egg whites until they start to turn white. Add sugar gradually and continue whisking until stiff peaks form, then spread the mixture on to a baking tray and bake at 85C/gas mark very low for 4 hours or until dry and crispy. Then break up in to small pieces. To make the Italian meringue, start whisking the egg whites. Put the sugar and water in a pan and bring it up to 113C. When the eggs start to turn white, quickly pour in the sugar syrup, whisking until it forms smooth soft peaks. Allow to cool then put in a piping bag. To make the strawberry sauce, bring the purée to the boil, add the sugar and reduce by half until it is a thick sauce. To make the vanilla cream, mix the vanilla seeds into the crème fraîche and then fold in the lightly whipped cream. Add icing sugar to taste. To make the almond biscuits – I make two 3cm-thick biscuits for each sandwich, all together about 12 – place all the ingredients into a pan and bring to the boil, then remove from the heat and chill. When cold, spread the mixture thinly on a baking tray and bake at 180C/gas mark 4 for 4-5 minutes until golden brown. Cut into fingers 3cm wide by 10cm long. To make the vanilla ice cream, put the milk, cream and vanilla pods into a pan, and heat to infuse. Whisk the egg yolks and sugar together until pale, then pour on the hot milk and mix together. Pour the mixture back in the pan and cook at 84C, then cool down the mixture in a bowl over ice until cold, and churn in an ice-cream machine, following the manufacturer's instructions. Or you can use decent quality vanilla ice cream. To make the strawberry sorbet, mix all the ingredients together and churn in an ice-cream machine. Or you can use decent quality strawberry sorbet. To assemble the strawberry ripple ice-cream sandwich, take a piping bag and pipe two lines of strawberry sauce inside it, one along each side. Then add the vanilla ice cream in the middle of the biscuit and place in the freezer to set. Take one finger of the almond biscuit and pipe the ice cream in a spiral motion along it. You should have a ripple effect. Place the other finger on top, then place back in the freezer. Mix together the vanilla cream and dry meringue pieces, and put in the bottom of a glass bowl. Cut up the strawberries and lemon balm. Mix together with the wild strawberries and a little sugar, if necessary, then place on top of the meringue. Scoop in some strawberry sorbet and pipe the Italian meringue on top. Take a blow torch and toast it like a Baked Alaska. Place the ice-cream sandwich at the side of the bowl and garnish with some more wild strawberries and lemon balm sprigs. Clare Smyth is head chef at Restaurant Gordon Ramsay, London SW3; gordonramsay.com/royalhospitalroad Marcus Wareing Dessert Food & drink Chefs Queen's diamond jubilee Marcus Wareing Clare Smyth guardian.co.uk © 2012 Guardian News and Media Limited or its affiliated companies. All rights reserved. | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds Marcus Wareing's chocolate pots with salted caramel centre and banana ice cream Photograph: Romas Foord for the ObserverMarcus Wareing's chocolate pots with salted caramel centre and banana ice cream. Photograph: Romas Foord for the ObserverClare Smyth’s Eton mess. Photograph: Romas Foord for the Observer
• Queen's diamond jubilee recipes: seafood
  Celebrate the Queen's diamond jubilee in style with seafood recipes from Jeremy Lee and Sat Bains Jeremy Lee's shellfish broth and mint chutney Despite living on an island surrounded by bountiful waters, we Brits are not the best at making the most of what the oceans can provide us. We go abroad and come back with tales of wonderful clams in Spain, or beautiful langoustines in France, but the fact is we have better here. The best, in fact. At Her Majesty's coronation in 1953, chicken was a noble bird that carried a certain synonymity with luxury, which is why it found its way into the banquet within that famous bright yellow, creamy concoction. Nowadays the poor old chicken doesn't quite carry the same weight, but delicious shellfish does. This recipe, along with the fresh, pretty chutney that is a wee nod to how food has progressed over the decades, really makes the most of the sweetness of langoustines; the deep meatiness of the mussels and the delicate brine flavour from the clams. But it's a moveable dish, and will work with most shellfish, and most budgets. Should a crab fall into your pot, wonderful. Or a lobster? Heavens, the horizons are endless. But it will still pack a punch with just mussels, or whatever you can get. And while the preparation of the dish is a little timely, the procedure is simple – you could feed a banquet. It's a perfect dish for a special lady. It is vital that the shellfish is very fresh and very much alive – that it's so good that it merely requires only the lightest cooking. Preferable also is the serving of the broth not long after making it – keep it out of the fridge as chill kills flavour and texture all too quickly. Serves 4 For the mint chutney coriander seeds 1 tsp cumin seeds 1 tsp chilli flakes a big pinch fresh mint 3 big handfuls lemon the juice of 1 plain yoghurt 300ml sea salt freshly ground black pepper a big pinch langoustines at least 16 good sized mussels 4 big handfuls, roughly 200g each clams 4 smaller handfuls razor clams a few small onion 1 unsalted butter 50g white wine 1 glass water 150ml double cream 200ml lemon 1 tender young peas 2 or 3 big handfuls, shelled broad beans 2 or 3 big handfuls, podded, blanched and peeled asparagus a big bundle, trimmed and chopped coarsely, lightly cooked parsley a big handful, chopped First make the mint chutney. Pop the spices in a frying pan and roll gently over a modest flame until a rich scent is released after a minute or so. Tip these into a coffee grinder or a pestle and mortar and render into a powder. Pick the mint leaves and place them in a blender with the lemon juice and pound until smooth. Add the spices and then the yoghurt to make a pretty, green, fresh chutney. Season with salt and pepper if necessary. This can sit for an hour or two, well covered in the refrigerator, prior to scoffing. Fill a large pan with water and bring to a furious boil. Season with as much salt as needed to make the water taste of the sea. Drop in the langoustines and cook for 45 seconds. Remove these to a tray. Remove and discard the beards from the mussels, and wash them well under cold, running water, then drain. Wash the clams in a similar fashion. Gently cook the onion with the butter in a clean, large pan and turn up the heat to full. Tip in the drained mussels and the white wine, season with salt and pepper. Place a lid on the pan, shake gently and let the mussels steam open, discarding any that remain firmly shut. Once opened, remove to a bowl and cover with a damp cloth. Place the clams in a pan and cook the same way, then remove to a bowl and cover. Proceed similarly with the razor clams. Reserve the cooking liquor. Pour the cooking liquor from the mussels and clams into a small pan, checking closely for any grit, and straining if required. To this add the 150ml of water. Bring to a boil and lower the heat to a simmer. Split the langoustines in half. Take all the clams and mussels from the shell. Boil the liquor, add the cream, add a squeeze of lemon juice, check the seasoning, then stir into the broth. Tumble in the vegetables and chopped parsley, checking the seasoning again. Spoon over the mint chutney just before serving. Jeremy Lee is head chef of Quo Vadis, London W1; quovadissoho.co.uk Sat Bains' fish pie Fish pie is a British classic. It's something you gobble up after getting back from school on a weeknight, or that your nan makes you for tea. Done well, with nice fish, it's a thing of beauty. I'll be honest, though, when I put fish pie on the menu at the restaurant people were a bit surprised, because they associate it with something heavy that makes you want a little nap on the sofa afterwards. But this version is deceptive; it transforms that heaviness into something light. When it comes out it looks like a regular fish pie, and the flavour profile is essentially the same, but when you dig in and get to the stock sauce, fragrant and rich with the fish bones and the kombu (seaweed), it's much more refined. The breadcrumbs give it a great crunch, too, and stop the mash getting too cloying. It's a perfect jubilee dish, because it's something we all know. It's in our blood. When the Queen celebrated her Silver Jubilee in 1977 I was six, and it transformed our neighbourhood. Everyone was talking to each other regardless of where they were from and, as an Indian family living in Derby, this was wonderful. Everyone partied in the streets together. It was unifying. Serves 4 For the fish sauce pollock bones 300g, chopped kombu (from large supermarkets) 25g double cream 200g pink fir apple potatoes 500g pollock 4 x 100g pieces lemon juice sea salt For the crumb breadcrumbs 100g parmesan 100g, grated To make the fish sauce, place the pollock bones into a pressure cooker, cover with water and add the kombu. Put the lid on and gently bring up to a simmer. Simmer for 20 minutes, then allow the pan to cool naturally before removing the lid. (If you don't have a pressure cooker, put it in a normal pan, and bring it up to a simmer for 20 minutes.) Strain through a chinoise into a clean pan. Reduce to a sauce consistency. Add the cream and bring to the boil. Strain again and store in an airtight container until needed. Cook the potatoes just before serving. Peel them and place in a pan – add enough cold water to cover and a generous pinch of salt. Bring them to the boil, then turn down to a simmer and cook until tender. Keep warm. Gently fry one side of the fish on a plancha or in a hot pan in a little oil until golden. Turn and place on a lightly oiled metal tray. Cook gently on the lowest setting under the grill until the fish is just opaque. Season with a little lemon juice and sea salt. To make the crumb, toast the breadcrumbs until golden brown. Allow to cool and then mix with the freshly grated parmesan. To serve, place the fish in the middle of a dish. Put the potatoes in a ricer and squeeze over the fish, making sure it is covered. Spoon over the sauce. Top with the crumb mix. Place under a hot grill and lightly toast. Serve. Sat Bains is chef patron of Restaurant Sat Bains, Nottingham; restaurantsatbains.com Sat Bains Jeremy Lee Chefs Food & drink Queen's diamond jubilee Seafood Jeremy Lee Sat Bains guardian.co.uk © 2012 Guardian News and Media Limited or its affiliated companies. All rights reserved. | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds Jeremy Lee's shellfish broth and mint chutney. Photograph: Romas Foord for the ObserverJeremy Lee's shellfish broth. Photograph: Romas Foord for the ObserverSat Bains' fish pie. Photograph: Romas Foord for the Observer
• How to make a jubilee cocktail
  You don't have to live at Buck House to enjoy a celebratory glass of gin and Dubonnet. Sipsmith drinks guru Jared Brown adds some sparkle to a royal classic Jubilees are rare and remarkable to behold. George III was the first British monarch to observe one. In 1809 he celebrated his golden jubilee. Queen Victoria celebrated her golden jubilee in 1887. More than 30 foreign kings and princes paid homage to her along with a parade of military troops. Novelist Mark Twain noted they "stretched to the limit of sight in both directions". When George V celebrated his silver jubilee, in 1935, bartenders in the finest establishments from Piccadilly to Mayfair invented liquid tributes, as documented in William J Tarling's Café Royal Cocktail Book , while the rest of his loyal subjects celebrated with official receptions, public addresses, street parties and a thanksgiving service at St Paul's. The King reportedly said, "I am beginning to think they must really like me for myself." Only the second to reach a diamond jubilee, Queen Elizabeth II seems likely to surpass Queen Victoria's 63 years and seven months. At that point she will become Britain's longest reigning royal and history's longest reigning female monarch. This calls for a toast. Her Majesty, like the Queen Mother, has raised many glasses of Gin and It (the "It" is Italian vermouth) as well as gin and Dubonnet. This is a lovely drink when the vermouth or Dubonnet is fresh, as both are wine-based and spoil once opened. Yet this is not quite festive enough for the diamond jubilee. To add a touch of the quintessentially British drink, we infused the gin with tea. While this might sound complicated, it is actually simpler than making a cuppa as it does not require a kettle. Place half a bottle of gin into a pitcher. Add a teabag or a spoonful of loose tea. We had good results with the Rare Tea Company's RAF tea, as well as Twinings' Earl Grey, Lady Grey and Darjeeling. Let the tea infuse into the gin for about 10 minutes, then remove the teabag or strain the gin off the leaves. Topped with champagne and garnished with a nibble symbolic of British summer at its best – strawberries and cream – our twist on a traditional aperitif takes a festive air, a jubilee air, perfect for raising in toast: "The Queen! Long may she reign." Jared Brown is master distiller at Sipsmith, London W6 OFM jubilee cocktail strawberry 1 crème fraîche tea-infused London dry gin 20ml Dubonnet Rouge or Martini Rosso vermouth 40ml champagne 150ml Chill a champagne coupe or large cocktail glass. Slice the top off a strawberry, and cut a notch into the base so that it will perch on the edge of the glass. Top it with crème fraîche and set it on the glass. Combine the gin and Dubonnet or vermouth in an ice-filled mixing glass. Stir for 20 seconds. Strain the mixture into the chilled glass. Top with champagne. Cocktails Food & drink Queen's diamond jubilee Jared Brown guardian.co.uk © 2012 Guardian News and Media Limited or its affiliated companies. All rights reserved. | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds The OFM jubilee cocktail. Photograph: Romas Foord for the ObserverThe OFM jubilee cocktail. Photograph: Romas Foord for the Observer