Wounded Syrian protesters being tortured in hospital, claims Amnesty

Protesters wounded in anti-government rallies in Syria have been tortured and abused inside hospitals, and in some cases deliberately refused medical treatment, according to a damning report by Amnesty International.

The human rights group said there was compelling evidence that the Syrian government was using hospitals as "instruments of repression" in its ongoing efforts to crush opposition. The report said medical staff, nurses and security officials had all physically and verbally attacked patients. Seriously wounded demonstrators suspected of taking part in anti-government rallies had been carted off from hospital to military jails, Amnesty added.

The report paints a picture of human rights violations in four government-run hospitals, in the cities of Banias, Homs and Tell Kalakh, with the military trawling wards in search of the opposition. The situation has grown so bad that wounded protesters are now seeking treatment in makeshift field hospitals instead, it says.

Security officials have also accused doctors of siding with demonstrators – arresting them and taking them away. Other Arab states seeking to crush their own uprisings have used similar methods of intimidation. Last month 20 medics in Bahrain were jailed for five to 15 years for treating activists wounded in anti-government protests, prompting international outrage.

"It is deeply alarming that the Syrian authorities seem to have given security forces a free rein in hospitals and that in many cases hospital staff appear to have taken part in torture and ill treatment of the very people they are supposed to care for," Amnesty's Middle East researcher Cilina Nasser said on Tuesday.

"Given the scale and seriousness of the injuries being sustained by people across the country, it is disturbing to find that many consider it safer to risk not having major wounds treated rather than going to proper medical facilities," Nasser added.

The UN estimates more than 3,000 Syrians have been shot dead during the violent government crackdown on protesters. Thousands have been injured. The uprising began at the start of the year but escalated from mid-March, with protests in numerous Syrian towns as well as the capital, Damascus. On Monday, the US withdrew its ambassador to Syria over safety fears.

The report cites several examples of treatment being denied, in contravention of medical ethics. In one case a patient, 28, who was shot in the foot on 16 May, was told by a doctor at Homs military hospital: "I'm not going to clean your wound … I'm waiting for your foot to rot so that we can cut it off."

One severely wounded patient, Ahmed, woke from surgery to discover seven or eight security officials standing round his bed. One witness said: "He opened his eyes and said: 'Where am I?' They all suddenly jumped on him and started beating and hitting him … They shouted foul language at him and said: 'You pig, you want freedom, eh?'" Ahmed was later taken from hospital. His whereabouts are unknown.

In another case, soldiers took an injured 21-year-old protester to the Homs military hospital morgue and asked him to identify bodies of men from his hometown. He recognised three – but failed to identify the others. Officials locked him in, leaving him shivering among the bodies. "After around one or two hours, I felt so cold deep in my bones and couldn't stop shivering," he recalled, adding that he made up some names in order to "save myself".

But some medical staff have behaved with exemplary professionalism. In March and April the director of Homs hospital called four meetings, instructing his staff to treat all patients – military and civilian – without discrimination. Others who have taken a principled stand have been summoned for interrogation by Syria's feared internal security bureau. Some have fled the country.

James Walsh, an Amnesty researcher on health and detention, said the level of abuse in Syrian hospitals was "quite striking". But he pointed out that there were also medical professionals who were taking significant risks to protect patients. "It's a complex mix of failed ethics, where people are in a coercive environment and where being a hero is not necessarily going to be an easy thing." He conceded that given the secrecy involved it was difficult to gain a clear picture from outside.

Amnesty International also found that patients had been removed from hospitals. On 7 September, security forces looking for an alleged armed field commander opposed to the government raided al-Birr wa al-Khadamat hospital in Homs. When they did not find him, they arrested 18 wounded people. A staff member present during the raid recalled seeing at least one unconscious patient having his ventilator removed before he was taken away.

Cilina Nasser added: "Syrian medical workers are being placed in an impossible situation – forced to choose between treating wounded people and preserving their own safety. The Syrian authorities must see sense and urgently act to ensure that all patients are treated equally, without discrimination based on their suspected political loyalties or activities."

It's official, digital radio's not that good: Minister overseeing switch from analogue says sound quality often poor

It was meant to bring reliable radio listening into the 21st century.
Now even the Government minister overseeing the switch-over to digital radio has admitted what listeners have been saying for years: the new service is often marred by poor sound quality.
Culture minister Ed Vaizey also conceded that there were 'elements of truth' in claims that digital radio coverage is not as good as analogue.

His admission potentially deals another blow to the switchover project, which has faced opposition from FM loyalists who cannot see the point of moving the major stations off the analogue service.
Speaking at the Drive To Digital conference, hosted at the BBC this week, Mr Vaizey said: 'You will no doubt have heard the negatives of digital radio, there has certainly been no shortage of column inches devoted to the subject.

'They often suggest that DAB is an out-of-date technology, that coverage and sound quality are inferior to analogue and listeners are already happy with what they've got, so why change? There are of course elements of truth in all these statements.' 
Despite this admission, Mr Vaizey added: 'However, it is all too often presented as a one-sided argument,' before saying: 'There are also many positives.' 
His comments come after a leaked government document revealed earlier this year that radio switchover will be delayed by another two years to 2017.

That memo showed the 'aspirational' 2015 target date had been abandoned as the radio industry would be unlikely to be able to meet the infrastructure costs.
Last night critics used the minister's comments to renew calls for the Government to abandon any target dates for switchover.
William Rogers, chief executive of the UKRD radio group, said it was 'frustrating' to hear Mr Vaizey acknowledge the problem but then 'not take any notice of it'.
He added: 'Most people can't tell the difference [between analogue and digital] in any event.'
At the event this week Mr Vaizey claimed the UK, which has 14million digital sets, 'leads the world' in digital radio. About a quarter of all radio listening is through digital and one in five cars are fitted with DAB as standard.
And the BBC has said it will pay for the expansion of its national DAB platform to 97 per cent of the population, from the current figure at just over 90 per cent, even though the corporation is facing huge cuts.
But earlier this year Ofcom research showed that three analogue sets are still being sold for every one which has the new technology.
A Department for Culture, Media and Sport spokesman said: 'The Government is committed to securing a digital future for radio, but has always been clear that switchover cannot be imposed on an unwilling public.'

Kieren Fallon: 'You expect me to count how many times I hit a horse?'

Kieren Fallon walks towards the weighing room on a gorgeous autumn afternoon at Ascot with his head down and a phone pressed to his ear. His mouth does not move as, silently, the gaunt little man they still call The Assassin weaves through the crowd. Beautiful women dressed to kill and heavyweight men scanning the odds for the richest event of the year in British Flat-racing, last Saturday's Champions Day, all step aside for Fallon. The six-times champion jockey, a man haunted by his past and the trouble still surrounding him in racing, moves with meaningful intent.

I catch up with him on the edge of a gleaming parade ring. "It's good to see you, Kieren."

"It's not good to see you," Fallon replies. "I fucking hate interviews."

I have been pursuing Fallon for months because, when it comes to brilliant but complicated sportsmen, there are few people I have wanted to meet more. His face looks like it is etched out of chalky?white stone as he slips his phone into his pocket. Chasing his seventh championship jockey's title, while battling with the British Horseracing Authority over its contentious rulings relating to use of the whip, Fallon allows himself to be steered into a tiny room normally occupied by the handicapper at Ascot.

There is just enough space for a chair and a desk. Fallon keeps standing, and his searing gaze never leaves me. "How long will this take," he asks. "Ten minutes?"

"A little longer …"

"I gave somebody just one sentence and that was enough for him to write a book."

"I'm not as clever as that," I admit. "Is that how it is?" Fallon says, almost smiling.

Standing a foot away from him, I start hesitantly. Does he have any ambivalent feelings about riding one of Richard Hughes's horses at Ascot?

"It's available," he shrugs. "If I didn't take it, somebody else would."

Hughes, as a jockey, reacted to his recent ban for excessive use of his whip by announcing that he would not race again until the BHA changed its draconian new rule. This stipulates that a jockey will be suspended if he uses his whip more than seven times in a race – or more than five times in the final furlong. Fury in the weighing room is palpable and, in Fallon, it finds compelling voice.

"Look," Fallon says of Hughes, "it's wiped out the rest of his season. But we all need to stand up for ourselves. We're being bullied all the time. That's the top and bottom of it. The BHA know that as well."

Fallon pauses, but a torrent is about to be unleashed. "The main guy over here is Jamie Stier [the Australian-born director of racing operations at the BHA]. Why don't you chat to him? He's come over here because they didn't want him there. They don't want him in Hong Kong either. We always end up with the person that nobody else wants and it causes this."

Stier resigned as Hong Kong's chief stipendiary steward in 2009 after six years in the role, citing the need for a fresh challenge, and was praised for his professionalism and dedication by the chief executive of Hong Kong's jockey club. Fallon's disdain for Stier and the BHA is, however, plain.

"Our prize money has gone about a third down. How can they justify putting up fines for jockeys? If we're late in the paddock we get fined. Crazy.

"In Hong Kong the suspensions and fines are for interference. But there's a difference between Hong Kong and here. Our racing is third world, isn't it? During the week it's third world prize money. Pony racing in Ireland is better than racing in the week here."

At the Qipco Champions Day, with so much serious prize-money on offer, and a magnificent horse like Frankel running like a dream, Fallon's withering assessment might sound strange. But in his quest to win another champion jockey's title he clearly sees some of the more humdrum corners of British racing.

"I was at Wolverhampton last night, and winging it round at twenty past nine, and if they'd let me I'd still be winging round there at midnight. Wolverhampton's got a lovely surface even if it's a bit tight at the first turn. You've got cheap horses running for cheap money but I love it. I don't do it for the money. The money's not worth it. But the buzz of winning makes everything worth it."

Fallon's phone was hacked into at least 28 times by the News of the World and allegations of race fixing were lodged against him. His racing licence was suspended – until the case against him was demolished at the Old Bailey in December 2007. The following day he was then suspended for a further 18 months after it was revealed he had tested positive for cocaine. Despite such strife Fallon is consumed by the idea that the whip rule should not impinge on the integrity of this year's champion jockey race.

The winner will be confirmed two weeks on Saturday, with Paul Hanagan, the current champion, on 149 winners. Silvestre De Sousa in on 145 and Fallon on 140. Fallon's recent winners have lessened because, apart from being banned for two days last week, on Saturday night he flew to Canada immediately after Ascot. He raced in Canada on Sunday and came straight back to London so he could ride at Windsor on Monday.

"If the champion jockey race goes all the way it's going to be real exciting. Silvestre's not out of it – even with a four-day suspension. But the whip rule for Silvestre is tough. He likes the whip. I want to beat people fair and square and not because of the whip. If Paul was to get suspended you wouldn't want to win it like that. You have to win on merit. I don't think he will get suspended because he's very conscious of it; but that affects his riding. I've spoken to Paul and it's difficult for him. I'm lucky. I can whistle to my horse and he'll really extend for me."

Fallon makes a low, shrill whistle through his teeth. "Nine out of 10 horses respond to that. They're trying to get away from the whistle. I've been doing it for years, ever since I worked out that horses would run quicker for me if I did that instead of tapping them. They don't feel the tap because they have adrenalin."

As a jockey who races his horses sympathetically, preferring to whistle them into a winning position, Fallon's strident opposition to the whip rule is persuasive. "I don't use my whip much. That doesn't mean I wouldn't hit a horse more than six times – it happens easily. We don't count like these people. We're just concentrating on getting the best out of our horse. You can't be going [Fallon counts slowly] 'one, two, three …' I shut down completely to everything when I'm riding. People say, 'When you won the Derby did you hear the crowd?' I can't hear a thing. I'm locked in my own world. And you expect me to count how many times I hit a horse? It's crazy."

He stresses that the jockeys are open to negotiation. "We don't mind coming down to the seven [as the permitted number of times a whip can be used]. We don't mind using the silly whips either – the air-cushioned ones that just make a pop – a noise. [But] who are the BHA bowing down to? Is it the RSPCA? Do they have the equivalent organisation in Ireland or France or Germany? Obviously they do. So how come the RSPCA in those countries are not getting involved? Why is it only in English racing?"

Such discord means that when Fallon is asked if he expects an early resolution of the crisis, he says: "To be honest with you: No."

He and his fellow jockeys object most to the apparently bullying stance of the BHA. "The shit we have to put up with. All the carry-on. You've got 25 fucking guys in the weighing room sneaking around to see if you're using your phone. They're spending all this money checking we don't use our phones in the weighing room. Changes should be made."

Fallon's racing style means it might suit him if the whip penalty undermined his rivals. "My friends have said: 'Why are you worrying? No one was worrying about you when you were doing your three years. No one phoned you.' And they're right. But I don't like to see other jockeys being bullied."

Did anyone in racing support Fallon during his various court cases? "No. Nobody wanted to know. You can understand why. But even when I was found innocent, which everyone knew I was, the stigma stayed. It's still there, isn't it? There was this feeling you were guilty until proven innocent. I suffered for three and a half years. That's how long it took to get to court. They were trying to invent evidence against me. Everyone in court saw what the police tried to do. Some of the stuff was incredible. The actual court case was the fun bit – watching them get destroyed at the Old Bailey. But the three?and?a?half-year wait to get there was sheer mental torture."

The 46-year-old Irishman is now determined to win his seventh title. "It's bang on. I'm going to chase Paul all the way. I've got three weeks left. Plenty of time. Plenty of meetings. I just have to knuckle down. And if I win it this year lots of people will be disappointed. It will eat away at them. They won't like it."

Would this seventh possible title mean more to Fallon for that very reason? "For sure it would."

Despite continued good will towards him from many ordinary punters, since returning to racing Fallon has not been offered many of the classy horses he would most like to ride. Is this down to his infamy? "That's probably the main reason. A lot of trainers I used to ride quite a bit for don't use me at all now. It has to be for that reason. I know it can't be down to my racing – because my riding sure hasn't got worse. If anything I feel better and I'm doing much more with less ammunition now. I'm lucky to have [the trainer] Luca Cumani supporting me. So it is a lot tougher. But I like it that way. I'm loving it. The tougher it is, the bigger the buzz."

Is there anything the old Assassin can do to change his image? "There's nothing. They can think whatever they want to think about me. They just needed to see me winging round Wolverhampton to see the baggage isn't keeping me back. Neither is the small amount of money on offer. Money has never orientated me. My whole life I've just wanted to win."

Do most jockeys feel this intense passion? "No. There's no passion. In the weighing room, now, the fun is gone. Racing used to be brilliant. There was always a buzz. As one of the boys said to me – it's a job now. For me it's different. I've had a great career – up until I was arrested. Now, you can't enjoy it when sneaks are following you around the weighing room. We don't need it. And now we've all this carry-on – with the whip."

There is a rap on the door. After 45 minutes of standing and straight talking Fallon needs to get ready for the 2.25 at Ascot. He seems reluctant to stop talking and we meet again as soon as he is changed. Then, mischief and humour coursing through him, Fallon persuades me to approach Stier, his current BHA bogeyman. As a delighted Fallon watches me ask a mildly discomforted Stier to discuss the jockey's comments, the Australian apologises and says he can't speak in public. His bosses will release a media statement this week. "What did I tell you?" Fallon says, cackling.

Before he escapes the troublesome world of people for the horses he loves, Fallon gives me a wink.

"The interview wasn't so bad, was it?" I ask. "No," Fallon smiles before, like a ghost, disappearing into the glaring light of the parade ring. "It went OK."

Mexico steps up security as host of Pan Am GamesReporting from Mexico City— When athletes from across the Americas take to playing fields and swimming pools in Mexico this month, they'll be guarded by unmanned drones, infrared-equipped Black Hawk helicopters, hundreds of surveillance cameras and more than 11,000 police officers. It's the first time since 1975 that Mexico is hosting the Pan American Games — a major multi-sport event held every four years — and the stakes are high, as the games play out amid a nearly 5-year-old drug war that keeps setting new thresholds for shocking violence. About 6,000 athletes from 42 countries will take part in the two-week event, which opens Friday with festivities in the host city of Guadalajara, Mexico's second-largest. Sports events will also be held in four other cities in the same state, Jalisco. Although vigilance is always heightened around international sports events, the specter of possible violence in Mexico has thrust security to the forefront of planning for the games. Nationwide, more than 40,000 people have died in drug violence since President Felipe Calderon launched a military-led crackdown on traffickers in late 2006. Guadalajara, a colonial-era city known as the birthplace of mariachi and tequila, is not among the main hot spots for drug violence. But in the last two years, the number of killings has risen in the metropolitan region, with 4.4 million residents, as several drug-trafficking organizations have battled one another in a messy struggle for supremacy in western Mexico. One of Mexico's most-wanted drug kingpins, Ignacio "Nacho" Coronel, was killed by Mexican troops last year during a raid outside Guadalajara, in the upscale suburb of Zapopan. Since then, turf fighting has rocked Jalisco, with nearly 600 dead last year, more than double the toll in 2009. Against that backdrop, Guadalajara residents and Mexican officials are hoping that the showcase sports event — the biggest in Mexico since the 1986 World Cup — is peaceful. "Right now this is the safest city in Mexico and many other places in Latin America," Guadalajara Mayor Aristoteles Sandoval said this week in a welcome to arriving teams. Not everyone is so sure. A headline on an editorial last month in the weekly newspaper of the Archdiocese of Guadalajara sounded like a plea: "A Pan American truce." The newspaper said that though "statements by our officials should comfort us, worry remains." None of the drug-trafficking organizations jousting for dominance in Jalisco has made threats against the games, expected to draw 1 million spectators. Mexico has hosted a number of other marquee events — including an international climate-change summit, film festivals and other athletic tournaments — during the last few years without a hitch. "There's not a whole lot of incentive for the cartels to create any sort of major mayhem aimed at athletes and spectators," said Scott Stewart, a vice president of Stratfor, an Austin, Texas-based intelligence firm. "They try to do things, for the most part, that are good for business. There's not a business reason to kill athletes and spectators." But the huge media presence in Guadalajara could provide a means for traffickers to try to send a message to rivals, such as by dumping bodies in public places. That's what happened in Acapulco last spring when a visit by Calderon drew press attention, Stewart said. A 2008 grenade attack by suspected cartel hit men killed eight people during an Independence Day event in the western state of Michoacan. In August, thousands of panicked soccer fans and players fled from a professional soccer game in northern Mexico after gunmen opened fire on police outside the stadium. No one inside was hurt, but televised images of the scene, in the city of Torreon, further rattled a nation that has seen escalating drug-war bloodshed. The Calderon administration took the unusual step this week of sending federal police to patrol by air and on the ground outside the same Torreon stadium when Mexico played Brazil in a soccer match unrelated to the Pan American Games. No shots were fired, and Brazil won, 2 to 1. This won't be the first time Mexico has hosted an international athletic event at a tense moment. The 1968 Olympics opened in Mexico City 10 days after an army crackdown on student demonstrators in the capital left dozens, perhaps hundreds, of protesters dead. In the end, the Games would be remembered more for raised-fist, Black Power salutes by American sprinters than for turmoil in Mexico. For many athletes, the upcoming games are a key step toward next year's Olympics in London. Safety precautions for U.S. competitors in Mexico are no different than in other international contests, which customarily rely on close contact with local police, team officials said. Brenda Villa, a water-polo star from Commerce, Calif., whose mother was born in Jalisco, said she wasn't jittery about coming to Mexico amid so much violence. "I'm not. My team isn't. We're just excited to go to a new city and I'm excited for my team to see some of Guadalajara," she said in a conference call with reporters. As the games neared, the most immediate worry centered on construction delays and weather. The main athletic track gained authorization from the IAAF, the international organizing body, on Tuesday. Hurricane Jova this week stormed ashore along a stretch of Jalisco before veering north, away from Guadalajara, and weakening, but the forecast for the next several days calls for thunderstorms.

Reporting from Mexico City— When athletes from across the Americas take to playing fields and swimming pools in Mexico this month, they'll be guarded by unmanned drones, infrared-equipped Black Hawk helicopters, hundreds of surveillance cameras and more than 11,000 police officers.

It's the first time since 1975 that Mexico is hosting the Pan American Games — a major multi-sport event held every four years — and the stakes are high, as the games play out amid a nearly 5-year-old drug war that keeps setting new thresholds for shocking violence.

About 6,000 athletes from 42 countries will take part in the two-week event, which opens Friday with festivities in the host city of Guadalajara, Mexico's second-largest. Sports events will also be held in four other cities in the same state, Jalisco.

Although vigilance is always heightened around international sports events, the specter of possible violence in Mexico has thrust security to the forefront of planning for the games. Nationwide, more than 40,000 people have died in drug violence since President Felipe Calderon launched a military-led crackdown on traffickers in late 2006.

Guadalajara, a colonial-era city known as the birthplace of mariachi and tequila, is not among the main hot spots for drug violence. But in the last two years, the number of killings has risen in the metropolitan region, with 4.4 million residents, as several drug-trafficking organizations have battled one another in a messy struggle for supremacy in western Mexico.

One of Mexico's most-wanted drug kingpins, Ignacio "Nacho" Coronel, was killed by Mexican troops last year during a raid outside Guadalajara, in the upscale suburb of Zapopan. Since then, turf fighting has rocked Jalisco, with nearly 600 dead last year, more than double the toll in 2009.

Against that backdrop, Guadalajara residents and Mexican officials are hoping that the showcase sports event — the biggest in Mexico since the 1986 World Cup — is peaceful.

"Right now this is the safest city in Mexico and many other places in Latin America," Guadalajara Mayor Aristoteles Sandoval said this week in a welcome to arriving teams.

Not everyone is so sure. A headline on an editorial last month in the weekly newspaper of the Archdiocese of Guadalajara sounded like a plea: "A Pan American truce." The newspaper said that though "statements by our officials should comfort us, worry remains."

None of the drug-trafficking organizations jousting for dominance in Jalisco has made threats against the games, expected to draw 1 million spectators.

Mexico has hosted a number of other marquee events — including an international climate-change summit, film festivals and other athletic tournaments — during the last few years without a hitch.

"There's not a whole lot of incentive for the cartels to create any sort of major mayhem aimed at athletes and spectators," said Scott Stewart, a vice president of Stratfor, an Austin, Texas-based intelligence firm. "They try to do things, for the most part, that are good for business. There's not a business reason to kill athletes and spectators."

But the huge media presence in Guadalajara could provide a means for traffickers to try to send a message to rivals, such as by dumping bodies in public places. That's what happened in Acapulco last spring when a visit by Calderon drew press attention, Stewart said.

A 2008 grenade attack by suspected cartel hit men killed eight people during an Independence Day event in the western state of Michoacan.

In August, thousands of panicked soccer fans and players fled from a professional soccer game in northern Mexico after gunmen opened fire on police outside the stadium. No one inside was hurt, but televised images of the scene, in the city of Torreon, further rattled a nation that has seen escalating drug-war bloodshed.

The Calderon administration took the unusual step this week of sending federal police to patrol by air and on the ground outside the same Torreon stadium when Mexico played Brazil in a soccer match unrelated to the Pan American Games. No shots were fired, and Brazil won, 2 to 1.

This won't be the first time Mexico has hosted an international athletic event at a tense moment.

The 1968 Olympics opened in Mexico City 10 days after an army crackdown on student demonstrators in the capital left dozens, perhaps hundreds, of protesters dead. In the end, the Games would be remembered more for raised-fist, Black Power salutes by American sprinters than for turmoil in Mexico.

For many athletes, the upcoming games are a key step toward next year's Olympics in London. Safety precautions for U.S. competitors in Mexico are no different than in other international contests, which customarily rely on close contact with local police, team officials said.

Brenda Villa, a water-polo star from Commerce, Calif., whose mother was born in Jalisco, said she wasn't jittery about coming to Mexico amid so much violence.

"I'm not. My team isn't. We're just excited to go to a new city and I'm excited for my team to see some of Guadalajara," she said in a conference call with reporters.

As the games neared, the most immediate worry centered on construction delays and weather.

The main athletic track gained authorization from the IAAF, the international organizing body, on Tuesday.

Hurricane Jova this week stormed ashore along a stretch of Jalisco before veering north, away from Guadalajara, and weakening, but the forecast for the next several days calls for thunderstorms.

Winter's first icy blast is on the way: Frost and temperatures of -3C by the weekend

Only a week ago many of us were basking in the glow of a spectacular Indian summer.
With temperatures as hot as Hawaii, we packed parks, beaches and swimming pools, soaking up the last rays of sunshine. And it seems they probably were the last.
Within days Britain will get its first taste of winter weather as Icelandic winds blast across the country and by Saturday many areas will be hit by the first frosts of the year.
There is one exception. On Wednesday, southern England will enjoy a pleasantly warm high of 23c (73f). After that, there will be a definite chill in the air.
‘It will be breezy and there will be a few showers for the next few days but it will still remain fairly warm in the South and mild in the North and Scotland,’ said Met Office forecaster Tim Thorne.

‘However, by the weekend, instead of weather from the Atlantic there will be winds coming in from Iceland and the North East, so things will get a little bit chillier.’
Even as temperatures drop, increasing  energy bills mean a fifth of us won’t turn on the heating until next month at the earliest, a survey suggests.
And just over half plan to turn on the heating later this winter than last year, no matter how bad the weather gets, according to the YouGov poll.
Authorities faced criticism during the big freeze last year as motorists battled dangerous roads caused by freezing temperatures.
Thousands of roads were left untreated and icy as salt stocks plummeted and councils were forced to prioritise.
This year, millions of pounds have been spent shoring up Britain’s road, rail and airport services in an attempt to prevent a repeat of the chaos.
Local authorities have already stockpiled thousands of tons of extra road salt. They aimed to have more in stock for the start of October than the total amount used last year, the Local Government Association said.

LGA economy and transport chairman Peter Box said: ‘Whatever surprises the weather may have in store for us this winter, motorists can count on council highways teams being better prepared than ever before.
‘Local authorities have been hard at work making preparations for this year ever since the end of last winter and keeping the roads open will be our number one priority.
‘This year councils have more salt and better plans to make it go further, while even more volunteers and community groups have been lined up to help with the great gritting effort.’
National Rail has invested ￡40million on heating and de-icing units in a bid to stave off travel disruptions caused by freezing of points and rails.
Airports operator BAA is also stepping up winter preparations this year, tripling the number of snowploughs and almost quadrupling the staff available for snow clearance at Heathrow after it was shut by snow last winter.

Little Guys Tough It Out

It's a tough time to be a business owner.

Though many big companies have bounced back from the worst recession since the Great Depression, many small businesses—lacking the deep pockets of their larger peers—are still struggling.

The problem: People still aren't spending money. The National Federation of Independent Business said last month that its small-business optimism index fell in August for the sixth straight month, with most businesses citing sales as the biggest issue.
Meanwhile, the swelling ranks of the unemployed have yielded a few unlikely entrepreneurs who, having lost their jobs, decided to start their own companies. They have found that being the boss doesn't always yield the big bucks, and are making do with fractions of their previous incomes.

The odds of a small business succeeding have gotten slimmer over time despite a culture that lauds entrepreneurship. Just 47% of businesses launched in 2005 survived at least five years, compared with 50% 10 years earlier, according to the Ewing Marion Kauffman Foundation, a Kansas City, Mo., research group.

Despite the odds, many small businesses are finding ways to hang on—and a few say sales are improving.

Here are some of their stories:

A Journey From Cubicle To Kitchen

Randy Sequete, a former investment-bank employee, now cleans kitchen exhaust systems late at night.
Mr. Sequete was laid off from his more than $100,000-a-year job as an assistant vice president for a major bank in 2010. His wife Melissa, meanwhile, had lost her six-figure banking job in 2007 while nine months pregnant. She landed a full-time sales position at a job-search website a year later, but was eventually laid off from that as well. The couple, who had already sold their Texas home to become renters, relocated to Florida last year.

From their new home, Ms. Sequete, 38, began working again for the job site that had let her go, in a part-time $15-an-hour administrative role. Mr. Sequete, after struggling to find work, decided to buy a business.

He invested more than $100,000 of the couple's savings in a commercial kitchen-exhaust-cleaning franchise called Hoodz. Mr. Sequete learned about the business through a broker he met while attending a seminar run by an outplacement service. Ms. Sequete quit her work for the jobs site to take care of the couple's two kids and help her husband run the business.

"Now I'm earning nothing," says Mr. Sequete, 43, adding that the family only recently purchased health insurance coverage. "I haven't taken one dollar from the business yet."

His new job is a far cry from the office position he used to have. His hours are unpredictable and range from early-morning meetings to late-night cleanings. Since clients are mainly restaurants, cleanings often start after 11 p.m., and while Mr. Sequete has two employees who do most of the dirty work, he often joins them on assignments.

Mr. Sequete says he typically works Sunday through Friday, spending half his time on the road and the rest working from home.

Though the couple has less money to spend, they now live closer to relatives and are optimistic about the future. "We're making a fraction of what we used to make but we're so much happier," says Mr. Sequete. "As long as I have my friends and family around me and my health, I'm the richest man in the world."
—Sarah E. Needleman

For Spa Owner, Beauty Brought Bankruptcy

Mindy Willson Conner drives the car she meant to give her teenage son.

The spa owner intended to offer the aging Jeep Cherokee to her younger son four years ago when he turned 16—and buy a new car for herself, perhaps a Lexus.
Instead, she's still driving the 11-year-old Jeep as she struggles to revive her Seal Beach, Calif., business.

After 20 years in the business, Ms. Conner borrowed about $1.4 million in 2007 to move her Complexions Day Spa to bigger and fancier quarters. At first, the snazzier setting drew more customers for services such as facials, manicures, massages and laser hair removal.

In late 2008, as the economy wobbled, her sales began to falter, before dropping 22% in 2009 and another 4% in 2010. Customers stopped coming or came less frequently. Competition drove down prices. The spa now charges $75 to $85 an hour for massages, down from $95 before the recession. Her take-home pay plunged to about $26,000 in 2010 from $125,000 in 2007.

Ms. Conner, now 52 years old, found herself unable to meet loan payments and eventually sold her five-bedroom house two blocks from the beach to pay off part of that debt, moving to a rented three-bedroom house with her husband and younger son.

She also maxed out her credit cards to keep her business going. "I had to leverage everything to keep the doors open," she says. To escape from some of that debt, she went through personal bankruptcy early this year.

Ms. Conner still employs 42 people, down from a peak of 47. She says sales have started recovering this year and cost cutting has brought the spa back into the black.

She hopes to generate more income from a line of massage oils, lotions and other skin-care products she formulated. To ramp up that business with more marketing and distribution, she figures, she would need at least $50,000, money that she doesn't have and can't borrow because her credit rating is shot. She hopes to attract an investor willing to put money into that skin-care line.

For now, vacations and fancy restaurants are out. "I don't shop," she says.

Instead, she pursues more free pastimes such as reading or walking on the beach. "I spend more time with family and friends," she says. "It's not all bad."

Kevin Phillips: Family guy likes to be beside the sea – despite the drive

Amid all the mud that has been flung into the scarred face of Carlos Tevez one fact has been buried. What made him so unhappy in Manchester was that he was separated from his daughters. It was this that fed many of the frustrations that in part led to his fatal outburst in Munich.

In his memorable denunciation of Tevez on Sky Television, Graeme Souness said he epitomised everything that is wrong with the modern game. There are not many who behave as badly as Tevez but most players have families to consider. There are school runs, there are birthday parties, there are futures to plan and for Kevin Phillips there is the long commute that he is willing to do as it allows him to be with his family.

Phillips lives not far from Coventry but plays his football for Blackpool. At 6.30am he leaves home for the journey to the club's training ground at Squires Gate that lasts as long as the average match. For company along the M6 he has TalkSport.

Squires Gate is homely and a little worn around the edges. The bench where Phillips has his massage as we talk is missing a good deal of its vinyl. His manager, Ian Holloway, hands out cups of tea after signing autographs at the door.

It seems strange to think that one of the most remarkable campaigns of any promoted club was plotted here. Blackpool scored as many goals as Tottenham, won as many away games as Manchester United and were relegated.

Last Saturday, Phillips brought his family to watch him play. The two girls and two boys – Millie (13), Toby and Tia (nine) and Alfie (five) – had experienced Blackpool's Pleasure Beach but not yet Bloomfield Road. Phillips no longer spends time before games watching videos of himself scoring to keep his confidence high, as he did at Sunderland, but he thought he was due a goal. He wasn't but Blackpool crushed Bristol City 5-0.

"The family have supported me in everything," he said. "I was very close to going back to Sunderland a few years ago but I sat them down and chatted with them about it and it became a family decision.

"The kids didn't want to move school again and even now I commute as much as I can because we'll be based in the Midlands for the rest of our lives." The four children all have their birthdays between November and December – "vast expense" Phillips smiles.

"They are all keen on sport. Toby was at Birmingham Academy and I thought there was too much pressure on an eight-year-old. He just wanted to play football but there were too many tactics, too much coaching and it got to the point where he was making excuses, telling me his foot hurt, just so he wouldn't go, so I took him out. I just wanted him to play for a Sunday team, where he simply enjoys his football and he absolutely loves it. I told him, if he were good enough, he'd be picked up anyway.

"The girls have both got horses. A year and a half ago we moved to a place which had some stables attached and they have a pony each. I said they could have them but they have to muck them out and pick the poo from the field."

A great day out for Phillips' family was a disastrous one for Keith Millen's. On Monday Millen became the second manager in the Championship to lose his job and, unlike the first, he did not have Steve McClaren's pay-offs from England and Wolfsburg to cushion the blow of severing ties with Bristol City that have endured a dozen years. The life expectancy of a manager in the Championship is notoriously short.

"The closer I come to the end of my career, the more it appeals to me," said Phillips. "I mentioned it to my wife, Julie, the other night and she said: 'Do you really want all that hassle?' I said: 'I think I do' because it is in me. People might tell me I'm mad to think of doing it, but until I sample it I can't know.

"Working with the manager here has given me a new lease of life. I have learnt an awful lot about football in the few months I have been at Blackpool. He is very intelligent tactically. There is no question you can throw at him that he doesn't know about the game. I have been a professional footballer for 18 years and he has pointed out things I had never considered."

What most attracted Phillips to Holloway when he left Birmingham was not just his passion for the game but that he didn't mention his age. Phillips is 37 and the Professional Footballers' Association has a pension scheme that pays out at 35. There were futures to consider and Phillips could have gone into broadcasting full time with Sky.

"The first game I covered was a live commentary of Sunderland playing Blackburn at Ewood Park," he said. "I was horrendously nervous, especially because nothing very much happened. There will come a time when I'll have to hack off someone I know. I phoned Niall Quinn [his strike partner at Sunderland] and he said that if someone came up to me I should tell them I loved the game and that I had to call it as I saw it."

So how would he analyse Birmingham's relegation? "Everyone blames the Carling Cup but our form wasn't great going into the final," he said. "Everyone raised their game for the cup and the closer we got the harder we played. But I'd experienced relegation with Sunderland and Southampton so I knew the signs. I remember talking to some close friends long before we went down and saying: 'If we don't pull our finger out, we are going to be in trouble.'

"But I was listening to an analysis on TalkSport that said if [wrong] decisions had not gone against both clubs, Birmingham and Blackpool would have survived. Only stats, but it shows you how close it was.

"But coming to Blackpool was the right decision. I like to think I have repaid them so far. We played Crystal Palace three or four weeks ago and we were walking down past the back of the kitchens and a chef shouted: 'Oi, Phillips. Good player,' and as I was walking away he said: 'Got no pace, though.'

"I have never had electric pace. I have just had that knack for being in the right place at the right time. I like to think I use my brain a bit more."

At Sunderland he was in the right place very often. The Golden Boot is given to the leading striker in Europe, measured in goals scored. Kevin Phillips is the only Englishman to have held something that Eusebio, Gerd Müller and the current holder, Cristiano Ronaldo, have won twice.

"I think Wayne Rooney will go close to winning it, if he keeps scoring the way he is," he said. "Some people might think it is not a great achievement because I did it at Sunderland and, had it been at Chelsea or Manchester United, I'd be held in higher esteem. I think it is a better achievement to have done it at Sunderland. It sits very proudly on my mantelpiece."

In the 1999-2000 season he scored 30 times in the Premier League. That summer he was part of the England party Kevin Keegan took to the European Championship. He was in the form of his life and played not a single minute of a brief campaign that was noted for English supporters rioting in the old industrial city of Charleroi, card schools and race nights at the FA's base at the Hotel du Golf in Spa and two Keeganesque 3-2 defeats that saw England eliminated.

"I think I deserved more than eight caps," Phillips said. "But I was competing with some top-quality strikers such as Alan Shearer, Michael Owen, Andy Cole, Teddy Sheringham and Robbie Fowler.

"There are not that many great English strikers around now. Wayne Rooney is the obvious exception and then there's Darren Bent, but there are not the six out-and-out top goalscorers there were 10 years ago. But I've got no complaints. I am not a bitter man."