Dusty Wentworth

There was a time—not so long ago—when two people could sit across a table, engage in a spirited debate, shake hands, and part ways without questioning the other’s character. Political opponents could cross the aisle for a drink, families could hold divergent views without the Sunday roast descending into a shouting match, and disagreement, though often heated, was still seen as a natural and necessary part of civic life. Today, that picture feels increasingly like an artefact of a bygone era. In the public square—whether that square is physical or digital—the ability to disagree without declaring an enemy appears to be eroding. The line between challenging someone’s opinion and attacking their character has blurred to the point of near-invisibility. The consequences of this shift are not merely social niceties lost; they are structural fractures in the way our society processes difference. If we cannot disagree without malice, we cannot debate meaningfully. And if we cannot...

I woke to the sound of the alarm. Through my half-closed eyes I could just about make out 06:30 glowing on the clock. Bloody rude, I thought — it’s the school holidays! But reality bites: these days, it can take me as long to get from bed into my wheelchair as it once took me to shower, dress, and be ready to leave the house. I need a head start on life now. Breakfast was the usual 14 tablets washed down with fresh coffee. Then another coffee. And another. Look, one helps me wake up and the other is just because I love coffee, alright? Don’t judge me. By 8am the car was loaded: wheelchair, pushchair, cool bags, three children, and two emotionally drained adults just trying to survive the summer holidays. Destination: Africa Alive in Kessingland, Suffolk. Now, as a Norfolk lad, any foray into Suffolk has to be treated as a covert operation. Football fans will understand — it’s not just about Norwich City (the mighty Canaries) versus Ipswich Town (the Tractor Boys). The rival...

If you’ve walked through a high street lately, you may have noticed a peculiar sensation creeping over you. It’s that strange déjà vu of spotting a teenager wearing flared jeans, your favourite band’s logo on a T-shirt from thirty years ago, and a scrunchie so large it could double as a small neck pillow. You look around and wonder if you’ve accidentally stumbled into a time warp, or worse, become an unwilling extra in a 1990s music video. This, my friends, is the great cultural recycling plant at work. The old is new again – only this time it’s dressed in irony, Instagram filters, and sustainable cotton. Welcome to the resurgence of nostalgia. The Comfort of the Familiar Nostalgia has always had a seat at the cultural table, but lately, it seems to have taken the head seat, poured itself a large glass of wine, and started handing out dinner rolls. In fashion, music, and home décor, elements from the past are reappearing with unapologetic boldness. There’s a psychological r...

It began with the kind of start no military operation would envy: late, chaotic, and entirely fuelled by caffeine and the frantic shouts of, “WHERE ARE YOUR SHOES?” We had planned for an early departure—visions of logistical precision and serene travel floated in our heads the night before. In reality, we woke up late. Groggy, uncoordinated, and amid a flurry of clothing-based crises, we somehow managed to rally the family troops and were on the road to Norwich by 09:30. Honestly, that alone deserves applause—or at the very least, a strong coffee. Despite the delayed launch, the journey into the city was blissfully uneventful. I say blissfully because Norfolk currently resembles a testing ground for every roadworks crew in the UK. I swear half the county is dug up. Entire towns seem to be held together by traffic cones and sheer optimism. But we navigated the trenches and reached Norwich—a minor miracle in itself. Operation: Replace What They’ve Outgrown As all parents know...

In the last decade, the sun has risen on a new kind of global power—not just metaphorically, but literally. As fossil fuel giants scramble to diversify, nations that once imported oil are quietly building solar empires. This isn’t merely an environmental shift; it’s a wholesale economic and geopolitical revolution. The global drive to transition from fossil fuels to electricity—particularly electricity generated from renewable sources—represents a monumental transformation. It doesn’t just concern cleaner energy; it reconfigures the distribution of wealth, influence, and strategic vulnerabilities among nations. The Economic Power Shift: From Oil Barons to Battery Kings Old Paradigm: Economic power was concentrated in countries with vast fossil fuel reserves (oil, gas, coal). Revenue from extraction and export was a primary driver of their economies. New Paradigm: Power shifts towards nations that can design, manufacture, and deploy renewable energy technologies (e.g., solar...

It was the sunshine streaming through a small gap in the curtains that woke me—an ordinary beginning to what would become an extraordinary day. For a brief moment, as my eyes adjusted to the light, everything seemed… normal. Then I saw my wheelchair at the side of the bed and reality reasserted itself with the subtlety of a sledgehammer. It’s in that moment every morning that I have a choice: do I board the Rumination Express, bound for despair and self-pity? Or do I choose to live, to fight, and to grab hold of the day with both hands—dodgy nerves and all? As usual, the day began with a 14-tablet cocktail, washed down with a strong coffee. Over breakfast, decisions had to be made. The "Family Olympics" had been declared—my niece and her boyfriend had challenged us to ten-pin bowling, arcade games, and pool. Today was the day of reckoning. First task: choosing the right set of wheels. With my custom active-user chair still in production for another two weeks, I op...

A family day out to Lowestoft: masculinity, memory, disability, and sugar-fuelled mayhem. ☕ Morning Mayhem, Meds, and Mobilisation We woke to the unmistakable clatter of the bin men — too late for the garden waste, again. That sort of domestic defeat where you just sigh into your slippers and accept it. Coffee became the consolation prize. While the kettle hissed, I began my usual breakfast — 14 tablets, swallowed one by one in silence. Not exactly a fry-up, but my body has its own checklist before the rest of me is allowed to function. Still half-asleep, I cradled my coffee like a shield while the kids launched their morning offensive: Can we get chips? Are we having ice cream? Can we paddle? Their enthusiasm came in rapid bursts — relentless, chaotic, but hilarious. I negotiated a ceasefire long enough to pack the car. The power chair made the cut today — the manual’s fine when I’m steady, but energy is a currency I need to spend wisely. With snacks, sun cream, and a heal...

What if progress isn’t progress at all, but a beautifully filtered delusion? I often wonder if others see the world as I do. From my vantage point in Norfolk — a county experiencing profound demographic shifts — it feels as if a subtle but relentless erosion of standards is underway across every facet of society. These changes are driven by large-scale population movements: an expanding student population at the University of East Anglia, bringing youthful energy and fresh perspectives; alongside an influx of people from around the world, each seeking to build a new life in a county known for its quiet charm and deep-rooted history. Amidst this, the societal landscape seems to be shifting — often favouring superficiality over substance. What was once the bedrock of ambition — hard work, perseverance, earned respect — now appears to be replaced by a relentless pursuit of surface-level validation, instant gratification, and an alarming culture of entitlement. Take LinkedIn, f...

On Saturday 26 July 2025, the streets of Norwich and Diss became a flashpoint for broader national anxieties as hundreds gathered outside migrant accommodation hotels in protest, reflecting both anger and solidarity over the United Kingdom’s asylum accommodation policies. At the centre of attention was the Brook Hotel in Bowthorpe, Norwich, where approximately 400 protesters assembled, voicing strong opposition to the continued use of local hotels for housing asylum seekers. Chants such as "We want our country back" and the prominent display of St George’s flags painted a clear picture of a segment of the population that feels ignored, displaced, and anxious about safety, identity, and social strain. Facing them across a line of police officers stood around 150 counter-protesters, carrying placards reading "Refugees welcome" and "No human is illegal." Their presence was equally symbolic, representing a community that believes in inclusivity and...

If you’ve ever tried to pack a wheelchair, a pushchair, three excitable children, and a sense of humour into a single car — congratulations, you’ve already earned your parenting badge of honour. Friday, 25 July — one of those gloriously British summer days. 26°C, sun blazing, and the scent of fresh coffee wafting through the house. A leisurely start for the grown-ups, but the kids? Practically vibrating with seaside anticipation. Sheringham wasn’t calling — it was shouting. 🚗 Operation Load-Up commenced with military precision. Wheelchair? Check. Pushchair? Check. Children? Loud and accounted for. Off we rolled through the lush North Norfolk countryside, tablets chirping in the backseat while my wife and I soaked in the scenery — and the fleeting silences between sibling squabbles. Arriving in Sheringham, the sea greeted us before we even saw it. That thick, salty air hit like a nostalgic slap to the senses. First financial casualty of the day: £11 for parking. Cheers, cou...