It’s been a year, hasn’t it?
Not the triumphant hoorah kind. More the head-down, keep-plodding, ‘is it bedtime yet?’ sort of year. Whether you’re a farmer battling the weather (and the government), in hospitality and wondering where the customers are (and the tax money is coming from), a local journalist trying to keep the lights on (ahem), or simply doing your best to pay the heating bill – 2025 has not been gentle.
But we made it. Just about. And as we shuffle slightly frayed and biscuit-fuelled into December, I’ll admit: I’m tired. Possibly delirious. Almost definitely weepy. ClassicFM keeps ambushing me with Somewhere in My Memory from Home Alone, which is frankly a cheap shot when you haven’t seen your eldest child in over a year. But he and his wife will be home in under three weeks – we’ll have a full nest for Christmas. We really will have ‘All of the music. All of the magic. All of the family, home here. With me.’
(…nope, weepy again. Definitely need more sleep.)
But even as we’re winding down for Christmas, we’re winding up behind the scenes. We’ve got big, exciting things planned for 2026 at BV Towers – and no, we can’t share them yet. But oh, we really want to. Just know that we’re already plotting and scribbling and quietly fizzing with anticipation.
Until then, we’re officially off-duty. We don’t do the fake “oooh we’re still monitoring emails” nonsense – the office door is shut, the mince pies are out, the wine is mulling, and January’s issue will be along on the 16th. Ish.
Wishing you a peaceful, joyful, well-fed Christmas. May your trifle be boozy, your mince pies plentiful, and your egg nog just the right side of questionable.
See you next year.
(But not too early.)
Laura x
On more doctor strikes
With more junior doctor strikes ahead, we’re being told – again – that this is all about pay. But is it really?
According to Guido, even the BMA’s own chairman, Dr Phil Banfield, recently admitted that junior doctors have had a 7.9% real-terms pay rise since 2015. That may not match inflation perfectly, but it certainly undermines the narrative of complete stagnation.
The real crisis isn’t pay – it’s retention. We spend up to £250,000 training a single doctor, only to make it near-impossible for them to progress or specialise. Many leave the NHS entirely or emigrate.
We urgently need to widen training opportunities, reduce pointless bureaucracy, and create a system that values and keeps the doctors we already have. Throwing slogans and strikes at the problem won’t fix what’s become a deep-rooted failure of long-term planning.
Name and address supplied
On devolution
I was pleased to see the vote tonight in favour of Dorset Council continuing its discussions on Wessex devolution. It was not, as some seem to fear, a vote to sign us up to a mayor or a new tier of bureaucracy. It was simply an essential step to keep Dorset at the table while Government works out the national framework.
Given the funding landscape, refusing even to explore this route would be an act of self-harm. The Leader made the point plainly: without a Mayoral Strategic Authority we are already losing around £300 million a year in investment that other regions can access. Transport, skills, housing, economic development – these are areas where Dorset has long struggled to attract serious Government money. Standing alone, we simply don’t carry the weight.
Acting with BCP, Somerset and Wiltshire offers us a realistic chance of being heard.
No one pretended tonight that an elected mayor is universally popular. But the direction from Westminster is unambiguous: no mayor, no meaningful funding. We can dislike that reality, but we cannot afford to ignore it. Keeping the door open is not capitulation; it is prudence.
It’s not a major decision moment yet, and the council made the right call. Continue the talks, shape whatever deal emerges, and bring the final proposal back for a proper democratic decision. Dorset’s residents deserve the chance to benefit from the investment that almost every other region is now positioned to receive.
Elliot Marsh, by email
On one councillor’s attitude to ADHD
Today I came across a Dorset councillor posting on social media, questioning whether ADHD is “the new normal”, suggesting that we should stop labelling people and simply celebrate everyone’s uniqueness instead. While I believe the sentiment was meant to be kind and inclusive, the comment reveals a worrying misunderstanding of what ADHD actually is.
ADHD isn’t a personality quirk or a lifestyle choice. It’s a recognised neurodevelopmental condition, involving a measurable chemical imbalance in the brain. For many of us, it affects executive function, time management, memory, focus and emotional regulation. It’s not about being “different” – it’s about trying to function in a world that wasn’t built for our brains.
The current so-called “gold rush” to get a diagnosis is not people jumping on a trendy bandwagon – it’s people, especially girls and women, finally being listened to after generations of being overlooked, misdiagnosed or simply told to try harder.
For those with ADHD (which is estimated to affect up to 20% of the population), a label isn’t a limitation – it’s a lifeline. It opens the door to understanding, support, medication, workplace adjustments and, crucially, self-compassion.
Being told to just “be yourself” is not helpful when “being yourself” can mean struggling to manage relationships, hold down a job, or complete simple daily tasks without overwhelming exhaustion.
I’d respectfully suggest that before public figures comment on complex neurological conditions, they take the time to understand what they actually are.
Name and address supplied
On the wax-jacket-wearing Grumbler
As a 60-something man with a strong attachment to my Barbour, I read last month’s Grumbler with both a chuckle and a slight sense of unease. I appear to also be the suspicious wax jacket man.
I’ve triggered more than one doorbell camera while returning misdelivered parcels, and been pinged on the village WhatsApp group while walking my dog (who, for the record, is considerably less suspicious than I am).
Still, I won’t be giving up the wax jacket. It’s absolutely older than some of the tech that’s now apparently accusing me of shoplifting.
G. W., Marnhull
I wonder if local readers are familiar with William Barnes’ Christmas invitation? He seems to have loved Chrostmas – he write about it beautifully. The following is my favourite of his, in his perfect ‘Dorset-ese’, and I thought you might like to give it an airing in your December issue? Merry Christmas to all!
Annie Bartlett, Blandford
Come down to-morrow night; an, mind
Don’t leave thy fiddle-bag behind;
We’ll sheake a lag, an’ drink a cup
O’eale, to keep wold Chris’mas up.
An’ let thy sister teake thy earm,
The walk won’t do her any harm;
There’s noo dirt now to spweil her frock,
The ground’s a-vroze so hard’s a rock.
You won’t meet any stranger’s feace,
But only neighbours o’the pleace,
An’ Stowe, an’ Combe; an’ two or dree
Vrom uncle’s up at Rookery.
An’ thou wu’lt vind a rwosy feace,
An’ peair ov eyes so black as sloos,
The prettiest woones in all the pleace, –
I’m sure I needen tell thee whose.
We got a back-bran, dree girt logs
So much as dree ov us can car;
We’ll put ’em up athirt the dogs,
An meake a vier to the bar.
An’ ev’ry woone shall tell his teale,
An’ ev’ry woone shall zing his zong,
An’ ev’ry woone wull drink his eale
To love an’ frien’ship all night long.
We’ll snap the tongs, we’ll have a ball,
We’ll shake the house, we’ll lift the ruf,
We’ll romp an’ meake the maidens squall,
A’ catchen o’m at blind-man’s buff.
Zoo come to-morrow night; an’ mind,
Don’t leave thy fiddle-bag behind;
We’ll sheake a lag, an’ drink a cup
O’eale, to keep wold Chris’mas up.
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