The time of Britain’s last serious outbreak of foot-and-mouth was in 1967 the year I was

The time of Britain’s last serious outbreak of foot-and-mouth was in 1967, the year I was born, so I have no memory of newspaper pictures of burning carcasses or grim announcements of the next plague spot. But now a disease that we’d barely heard of 10 days ago has us under siege.
Newly transplanted to the country, we have never experienced anything like this before; our car stays in the drive and we stay home. As incomers we’re particularly anxious not to do anything wrong. If we had driven or walked somewhere recently and found the area had subsequently been infected, we’d be horrified.Since I moved recently with my husband to the Blackmoor Vale in north-west Dorset, the heart of Hardy country, we’ve been cocooned somewhat.

We have been following the national news less assiduously than we could have (shameful for two self-employed journalists working from home). So our first intimations that something was badly wrong were vague and slow to register.First there was a phone call from the Woodland Trust warden of our favourite local haunt, Duncliffe Wood, to say that because of likely access restrictions, the volunteer maintenance session had been cancelled, so not to turn up for the regular weekend of bramble-bashing and coppicing.This seemed a shame, as the first primroses are just showing, and why should the woods be shut off, we wondered? It’s not as if there are any cows in there Our ignorance of just a few days ago seems ludicrous. There are a number of deer and of course they are as at risk as any livestock. And the wood is surrounded by pastureland.Next, at the small farmers’ market last Saturday in Gillingham, our local town, one of the two meat suppliers had no beef, because of the hastily imposed ban on moving animals. There was veal, mince and sausages at the other stall; but if the restrictions lasted any longer, supplies would run out, we were warned.

So we stocked up rather more than we might have done – and returned home to hear pleason local radio not to panic-buy.The phone call asking us to stay in and not walk over the fields near our home came on Monday evening, before we’d seen any official signs. And already we were feeling oddly thankful that we’d been confined to the garden for 10 days because our dog had cut his paw.When we first moved in, we asked permission from the farming couple who own the land to walk in the fields near the house and were given a friendly welcome and carte blanche to stride out when we wanted Now our neighbour sounded strained. Would we please stay in and keep our dog in? Of course we would, and fortunately had already been doing so, though more by luck than judgement. She works as a farm secretary, travelling round the area, so she can’t do her job at the moment, she said, on top of everything else.The countryside seems to be grinding to a halt. Looking out of the window, there’s no one around on foot at all Even the roads seem quieter.

There’s a grim feeling of standing on the brink of disaster.Local events such as the point-to-point have been cancelled and livestock sales in Shaftesbury have been suspended until further notice. The entrances to the farmyards are masked by piles of disinfectant-soaked straw – it seems a strangely medieval precaution, but what else can be done?We are now listening anxiously to the radio, checking the news on the Web, hurrying to catch the television news. And if we’re worried, what must it be like for those people whose livelihoods are threatened? We keep no livestock; the most we’ve done is flirt with the notion of a goat or maybe a pig, more for fun than for food.Although the crisis affects everyone, town dweller or country dweller, it’s hard not to feel guilty that the full effects will be borne by so few, especially when some live just down the road. The most we can do is follow instructions and hope our neighbours won’t be affected.. Nine asylum-seekers were found hidden underneath a Eurostar train in the middle of Waterloo station yesterday, shortly after it had arrived from Paris. Nine asylum-seekers were found hidden underneath a Eurostar train in the middle of Waterloo station yesterday, shortly after it had arrived from Paris.
A spokesman for the police said that the group, which included a three-year-old girl, must have endured freezing temperatures as the train travelled at up to 186mph during its three-hour journey from the French capital.While stowaways have been found underneath freight trains from Calais, which are slower, this is believed to be the first time anyone has taken the desperate step of hiding under the Eurostar.Inspector Richard Allison, of the British Transport Police, said last night: “It beggars belief. The temperature over the last few days has not been the warmest and, with the added chill factor due to the high speeds, one can imagine what the conditions were like underneath the train.”The four men, four women and a child, who are believed to be from Romania, were waiting to be transferred to Oakington reception centre in Cambridge, which houses asylum-seekers while their claims are being processed.Only a month ago, Eurotunnel called on the British and French governments to stem the flow of illegal immigrants through the tunnel, claiming the rising numbers were disrupting journeys.