Awareness of Foods We Can Trust is important Today, so that We can All Eat them Tomorrow

A Quick Note from Adam

Over recent months I have been migrating key works across from my Foods We Can Trust site, to share here on my main Blogsite.

The Importance of Foods We Can Trust Awareness is now joining the other FWCT and wider farming and food related works that I have published at www.adamtugwell.blog in July 2026, but was originally published on 28 April 2025.

As such some of the language and terms used may reflect that time rather than the time of republication.

Introduction

In recent days, I had a conversation about what Foods We Can Trust can actually mean to different people.

It’s important to recognise that what Foods We Can Trust are, is a subject that can mean different things everyone at first glance.

It does so, because we all think about Food in ways that can be very divisive. Depending on what role Food already plays for us, in our lives.

However, Food really shouldn’t ever be divisive. Because whatever may or may not be important to us when we think about the types of food we Eat and why we do or do not Eat them, we should all be able to make the choice of what We Eat at every mealtime from Foods We Can Trust.

Once we’ve got through all of the questions, objections and every other form of barrier that stop people from being able to choose every meal from Foods We Can Trust today, there are very good reasons why each of us should be thinking a lot more carefully and consciously about the Food we consume and why.

The Human Body is a brilliant, natural machine that can only work at its very best when we consume the right fuels and lubricants

Changing the way that we think about Food is the biggest question to answer, as we consider the Foods We Can Trust.

We take Food for granted in just about every conceivable way.

But perhaps the worst and potentially most harmful way we overlook what we are Eating, for us personally and as far as our bodies are concerned, is our failure to always consider the nutritional value and what the Food we consume contains, at the point that it enters our bodies.

Please don’t be under any illusion. We all do it – Because that’s how life currently works. And that’s a real problem for us all!

We don’t need to be doctors, scientists, nutritionists or dieticians to understand the basic principle or equation that tells us what we put into our bodies will have a direct effect on what we get out.

The Food we consume impacts us all in terms of our physical health, mental health, energy levels, wellbeing, hormonal balances, how we feel at any particular time and yes, the list goes on.

But most of us also take this for granted too. And most worryingly, we don’t really think about any of it until whatever we are eating too much or not enough of, shows up by affecting us personally, in some uncomfortable way.

Sadly, even then we may not feel able to do anything about it because of the relationship we have with Food.

Put enough Goodness in and a lot more Goodness usually Shines out

The Human Body is a miraculous biological machine.

It has all sorts of weird and wonderful mechanisms, chemical processes and even physical filtering systems, that can deal with small amounts of things which aren’t actually all that good for us.

However, small really does mean small, in terms of anything that the Human body needs and really doesn’t need to consume.

The amounts of anything within what we Eat that can make a difference, either positively or negatively can be ridiculously small. Even in terms of the amount of the good things that we require each day for our bodies to function at their very best.

So small amounts of anything that we consume regularly that isn’t good for us can soon start to become a problem over time, because the body cannot keep removing the things we don’t need and so it can build up, causing a cumulative effect.

The difficult thing for us to get our heads around is that consuming small amounts of the wrong things doesn’t appear to have any direct relationship with what we Eat. Because we rarely have immediate reactions to bad things at the same moment that we eat it, and we would all typically spit it out or would soon be sick when we do.

This indirect relationship means that we easily overlook foods and ingredients that aren’t good for us at the moment we eat them. Especially when there is some reason that makes those foods very appealing to eat – and perhaps addictive or habit forming when we put them in our mouths. Such as the way that they taste.

Masking

The appeal of the Foods that we typically eat today isn’t as simple as all it might seem. Because the companies that make massive profits out of ‘making’ or manufacturing foods that can do us harm when we repeatedly Eat them over a period of time, are only really able to do what they do by using and abusing the knowledge of how our bodies work.

Many of the Foods we eat today are actually designed and then manufactured to fool our bodies into believing that we are only eating things that are actually good for us.

So, when it comes to the taste of the Food we eat, ‘good’ is no guarantee that what we are eating is good for us and can actually mean that its very bad!

Masking is a process where Food or ingredients that are artificial, have been modified or processed in ways that will often mean they will become harmful to our bodies when we keep consuming them over a period of time, are hidden by adding other ingredients that quite literally confuse our bodies and ‘mask’ our taste receptors, so our bodies natural responses are confused and unable to respond to whatever the food we are eating really is.

If we eat more of anything than we need or try to eat anything that isn’t going to be good for us that is naturally produced, a healthy body will usually tell us that we should stop eating.

Narratives, Technology and Medicine

Regrettably, because we are living through and experiencing an age where so much is available to us at the press of a button, whilst we are at the receiving end of a constant flow of information suggesting there isn’t much that technology cannot fix, it is very easy to think about happiness and pleasure being all about the moment and the now

Many of us don’t believe there is any downside to what we eat and that the consequences – if any really exist – are something we can deal with whenever and if ever we have to, if and when that day comes. (And let’s face it – few of us see anything ‘bad’ hiding between the adverts, narratives and marketing we constantly receive…)

We also fall into the rather large trap of accepting that anything that comes to us through digital devices, through TV, Radio, adverts, sponsorship, influencers, big brands and public figures of any kind can automatically be trusted – whatever it might be.

The phrase ‘Beware of distant elephants’ is very appropriate when it comes to our relationship with Food and what we actually eat. Because when the problems do arrive – which for many they certainly will, those problems will arrive all at once and we will feel like we are being trampled by an elephant when we do.

The role of opposing beliefs in remembering the shared Importance of Food

Let’s get one controversial bit out of the way in terms of how we think about our ‘bodies’. Because the real distant elephant in the ‘what we are eating room’, is this:

What our bodies are, and what the systems of the Human Body can do, is very much at odds with what most of the Food that is accessible and affordable to everyone today already suggests and would make anyone think.

The Human Body isn’t designed or built to work well using the fuel that the Food Chain typically brings to us.

Modern Food Production processes cannot emulate, replace or meet the completely natural set of nutritional requirements that the Human Body has. No matter how good manufacturing processes and the addition of different artificial ingredients can make unhealthy Food taste.

Our bodies have not, will not and cannot evolve to run effectively as they should and thrive when we constantly consume the Foods that the Food Chain and those benefitting from every part of it today would like us to. No matter what the narratives and even the politicians might say.

Facing up to Bodily Realities

In terms of where the Human Body came from or how our bodies ‘evolved’, most of us believe in one of two ‘histories’.

The Human Body was either:

Divinely created, or
Evolved ‘naturally’

If our bodies were divinely created, we can be reasonably sure that whoever or whatever created them intended that we fuel them with the foods that are readily available to us. Whether they are grown, harvested or caught.

If our bodies evolved in a way that theories such as Darwinism would indicate could only have only taken place over a period of many thousands if not millions of years in time, we can be just as sure that the Human Body cannot and will not adapt to any kinds of Foods or ingredients that they haven’t been exposed to for pretty much the same period of time.

For anyone who sits outside of these two possible pathways of human history and believes that we are either in a hologram or something that our dreams have made, either or both of the above will almost certainly be just as true. Because they don’t need to be mutually exclusive, and either way, this life as we know it is the experience that we are living, and these two models are basically the software options that we have to choose from!

Wishful Thinking that gambles with our lives

No matter how much we might love the lifestyle and ‘opportunities’ we have today and can overlook everything that is going on around us in so many different ways, the body is the centre of everyone’s private universe.

If we don’t look after our body and give it the right fuels and lubricants, we will soon be required to focus on the reality that it’s the only one that we have got.

However, it’s just as important to recognise that eating well and eating simply – without all the processes and processing where all the money is there to be made, doesn’t sit well with the way that our culture and economies currently work.

Words can and are being used to convince us of anything we can be led to believe. If the stories and narratives they form will lead to profit, influence and control for the people who run everything.

Food is a key essential for daily life that we all need to have brought to us in the world as we know it, today.

So, controlling the processes and the ingredients that govern and support the Food Chain, so that they appear unavoidably difficult and uncontrollably expensive, is how people who need to eat regularly are increasingly being controlled and massive profits can also be made.

The Foods We Need

The Foods that our bodies need are not expensive. Or rather they wouldn’t be, IF we were growing them ourselves. Or they were being grown, harvested, produced and traditionally processed locally by small businesses and limited-sized supply chains, run and managed by people we know, who have very similar if not the same needs and ourselves.

Sadly, we have been conditioned to believe that the Foods We Need are too expensive and therefore are increasingly impractical.

We have also been carefully guided or conditioned to believe that we need a much greater variety of Foods to choose from than we do.

To top all of that, we are also being led to believe that the creation and manufacturing of Food is something that normal people and small independent businesses such as farms, growers, bakers, butchers, fishers and fishmongers, and dairies can no longer efficiently do properly, or that any of us can do so in the quantities that the world now needs.

The fight over our Food and what we eat is therefore a fight over control. Because as long as we have control over what we eat and how we produce it, we also have control over our own lives.

Regrettably, if we do not refocus and place our shared need for Foods We Can Trust, right back at the centre of our lives, we will soon lose that control.

With it will go the ability to create the Foods that our bodies need to be healthy and to ensure that happy, healthy and good lives can be experienced and maintained.

Progress is not always linear

Before we finish discussing our own personal needs and requirements for Foods We Can Trust, it is important to begin the task of addressing the many reasons that will be given that suggest we can no longer expect to have open access to the Foods We Can Trust in the way that we always should have.

If you follow current affairs closely and have been watching the impact that the new Trump Presidency has had through Trade Tariffs, you may also be able to see that there is a much bigger problem beginning to surface with the way that the Global Economy works.

The funny thing is that the Global Economy and the way that economics affects everything – not least of all Food, has always been flawed.

But the problems that it has steadily been creating for decades have been hidden by the way that everything has worked.

The problem with addressing the real problem – and this is especially the case when it comes to how we grow and produce our Food, is that those with real influence over the Food Chain as we know it, don’t prioritise Food, and therefore all of us in the way that they should be doing.

Ask them for their opinion or view, and the only thing that you will get back is the suggestion that technological advances in production and efficiencies can only go forward. With the inherent suggestion that everything that we do with Food Production today or that we have already done is archaic and therefore should be treated as if it is already in the past.

Most sovereign states around the world were themselves Agricultural Economies for what were sometimes substantial epochs of Human History.

The Agricultural Age was no accident. Because Food and the need for Food was historically and rightly considered to be the centre of whatever we would now recognise as the equivalent of the economy therefore had Food Production right at its very heart.

There is nothing good about the way we are being taken in respect of our relationships with Food, simply because of the way that money, economics and finance are worshipped and revered by the ruling classes above all things. Not least of all because of the impact that the deference to money, influence and control is already having on our Food Security and Food Supply – even BEFORE we give any thought to the Foods We Can Trust.

Food Production and Farming are already heading in the wrong direction

Right now, the way that our Farming Industry produces Food isn’t generally good for us.

Many Farmers are reliant on chemicals, maintaining levels of production that are impossible to maintain, and the farming methods that the Food Chain requires inflicts a cost on soil and the environment which is genuinely real, but instead of being helpful to Foods We Can Trust, is absurdly playing into the hands and narratives of those who wish to end traditional farming in every sense.

Moving towards factory farming and Foods that are heavily synthesized and contain many processed and manufactured ingredients – not least of all so they seem tasty enough to eat, is not progress.

Becoming reliant upon heavily processed and artificially constructed Foods that contain a majority of ingredients that we wouldn’t choose to eat is the route to a very bad outcome for us all that is itself littered with health and degenerating living standards, where many people will suffer and fall along the way.

Genuine progress in Food Production, from where Food Production is today, will be to return to traditional forms of Farming and the localised economics that thrive around it.

This is how everything should and would be now, if there wasn’t any self-interest, greed or an obsession with money around.

Moving back towards more simplified methods of Food Production, where technology is used to improve, rather than take over what we do, isn’t going backwards for anyone. Unless you are one of those worried about losing control or how your future profits are going to be made.

On the basis of what we know and what anyone can see about Food Production, the Food Chain and the many things that stand in the way of universal access to Foods We Can Trust today, backwards is most definitely the new forwards.

For humanity and for all of us, this focus on Food Production is how real progress into our future will be made.

Adam’s Food and Farming Portfolio: A Guide to Books, Blogs and Solutions

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The Glyphosate Era Is a Warning – Not the Future of Agriculture

Glyphosate is back in the headlines, and with it comes a familiar script. Industry spokespeople reassure us. Politicians hedge. Commentators warn that without chemicals like this, farming would grind to a halt.

The result is a picture of modern agriculture as a system so fragile it cannot function without constant industrial intervention.

But glyphosate is not the whole story. It is a symptom of a wider model: a food system built on extraction, dependency and the assumption that living systems must be subdued, corrected and endlessly supplemented rather than understood and supported.

The deeper problem is simple. We have built a system that works against ecological reality, then act surprised when the costs come back as poorer soils, resistant weeds, vulnerable supply chains and food that is plentiful in volume but weaker in trust, resilience and nutritional quality.

Weeds evolve resistance. Soils lose structure and biological richness. Crops come to depend on more inputs just to maintain output. Farmers become exposed to fuel, fertiliser, chemical and freight costs they do not control. And when the system shows its weaknesses, the answer is too often not a rethink but an escalation: more processing, more centralisation, more patents and more distance between people and the land that feeds them.

That is not resilience. It is fragility repackaged as innovation.

And it narrows our choices more than it should.

The Real Problem Isn’t Glyphosate – It’s the Story We’ve Been Sold

For decades we have been told that farming must be industrial, chemical, centralised and input‑heavy or it will not feed the world. But high output alone does not guarantee nourishment, security or health.

A food system should be judged not just by how much it produces, but by whether it delivers reliable access to good food, sustains the land that produces it and supports diets that help people thrive.

Feeding people is not just a transaction. It is a relationship between land, farmer, community, ecology and health.

The industrial model is organised around inputs, outputs, margins and efficiency. It can produce scale, but it can also treat soil as a medium, farmers as operators and food as a commodity first and nourishment second.

Local and shorter food systems offer a different balance, strengthening transparency, community participation and resilience while placing greater value on freshness, seasonality, dietary quality and stewardship.

Nature does not respond well to being treated as a production line. Food is better when it is produced in ways that respect ecological limits rather than deny them.

Soil Isn’t Dirt – It’s a Living World We Barely Understand

Soil is alive. Healthy soil is a dense biological community, and even a teaspoon can contain more microorganisms than there are people on Earth. That biodiversity underpins food production, water regulation and wider ecosystem function.

Yet we often manage it as if it were an inert surface.

Too often, we plough until structure is damaged, leave ground bare to erosion, rely on interventions that can disrupt soil biology and compact fields until water infiltration falls and roots struggle to penetrate. Then, when fertility and resilience decline, we respond with yet more inputs instead of asking what the land is telling us.

Soil is not simply failing. It is responding to how it is being treated.

That should give us hope. With cover crops, diversity, careful grazing, reduced disturbance and patience, soil can recover function, biological activity and water‑holding capacity.

Regenerative approaches are context‑specific, but when farming systems restore soil health they can also strengthen biodiversity, water cycles and long‑term productivity.

You can see it where cover crops return, where livestock are integrated thoughtfully into rotations and where farmers start reading the land as a living system instead of forcing it like a machine.

Nature is not waiting to be replaced. It is waiting to be worked in partnership with.

Regenerative Farming Isn’t a Trend – It’s What Happens When We Stop Breaking Things

Regenerative agriculture is often dismissed as a trend. A better way to see it is as an effort to restore ecological function to farming: healthier soils, more biodiversity, better water management and stronger resilience over time.

Outcomes vary by crop, place and management, but the core insight is simple: farming works better in the long run when it works with living systems rather than against them.

Many of the principles now described as regenerative are not new. They echo older forms of husbandry and land management shaped over generations by ecological reality: rotation, mixed farming, soil cover, local adaptation, careful grazing and fertility built through living cycles rather than permanent external correction.

Grow different crops in sequence so pests and weeds do not settle into a single pattern. Keep the soil covered so it retains moisture and resists erosion. Use animals well, where appropriate, to graze, fertilise and stimulate regrowth. Let roots, fungi and microbes do more of the work. Build local food systems that can supply fresher food, support seasonal diets, shorten the distance between producer and plate and reconnect nutrition with ecological care.

None of this is quaint. It is agronomy, husbandry and public health seen together instead of in fragments.

What is radical is the assumption that food security, ecological repair and nutritional wellbeing can be achieved by moving ever further away from land, season and biological reality.

Why This Conversation Still Struggles to Break Through

If approaches that rebuild soils, reduce dependency and strengthen local resilience have so much going for them, why are they still treated as marginal? Part of the answer lies in the incentives built into the current system.

Large industrial systems favour scale, standardisation and dependence on traded inputs.

That means continued reliance on chemical products, imported fertiliser, long supply chains and centralised processing and distribution models that reward volume and uniformity.

It also means approaches that return more knowledge, autonomy and adaptive capacity to farmers and communities can look inconvenient to a system organised around throughput rather than resilience.

This is not because local and regenerative systems are beyond criticism, or because they solve every problem. It is because they challenge the idea that dependence is inevitable.

A local, community‑rooted food system can diversify risk, shorten supply lines and strengthen accountability. It can also make it easier for people to know who is producing their food, improve access to fresh seasonal produce and reconnect diets with place, culture and stewardship.

These systems are not automatically perfect, but they should be treated as serious infrastructure for resilience, sustainability and nutrition rather than quaint side projects.

And that is where the real choice comes into view.

This Is Why We Need Foods We Can Trust

Everything I have said so far leads directly to the blueprint I set out in Foods We Can Trust.

The answer to the food crisis is not to swap one industrial dependency for another, but to rebuild the relationship between people, land, health and food in ways that restore trust and reduce extractive pressure on the systems that sustain us.

It means local growers feeding local people where possible. It means communities strengthening their own food capacity instead of relying entirely on distant systems. It means farming that rebuilds soil rather than exhausting it, and food that comes from functioning ecosystems and supports healthier, more balanced diets. It means resilience built from diversity, participation and stewardship rather than dictated from the top down.

We do not need to invent a wholly new food system so much as recover and renew wisdom we were too quick to dismiss as old‑fashioned.

The Future of Food Isn’t Synthetic – It’s Alive

If we want a food system that can survive the shocks ahead – economic, environmental and geopolitical – we should be honest about how brittle the present model can be.

Disruption in major shipping corridors such as the Red Sea and the Strait of Hormuz has underlined how dependent industrial agriculture is on uninterrupted flows of fuel, fertiliser and freight, and how quickly those pressures can feed into food security risks.

We do not need to replace nature. We need to stop mistaking dependence on industrial intervention for progress.

The sooner we accept that, the sooner we can build a food system that is healthier, more trustworthy, more nutritionally grounded, more sustainable and more resilient because it is rooted in living soil, local capacity and a less extractive relationship with the natural world.

That future is not a fantasy or a retreat. It is a practical choice to build food systems that work with nature, support human health and give communities a greater stake in how they are fed.

The question is not whether such a future is possible, but whether we are willing to back it.

Foods We Can Trust: A Blueprint for Food Security and Community Resilience in the UK |Online Text

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Understanding the Fragile Foundations of the UK Food Chain

An open conversation about what’s happening, why it matters, and what we can do next.

1. A Quiet Reality We Haven’t Been Shown

Most people in the UK don’t spend much time thinking about where their food comes from. Why would they? The shelves are full, the lorries keep moving, and the news rarely touches on food unless it’s a supermarket promotion or a celebrity chef.

The quiet assumption is that the system works – and that it will keep working.

But if you look a little closer, you start to see a different picture. Not a dramatic one, not a crisis‑headline one, but a real one: a food system that functions beautifully when everything around it is stable, yet is built on foundations that are far more fragile than most people realise. And because the public conversation rarely touches on these foundations, most people simply don’t know they exist.

This isn’t about blame. It’s about visibility. It’s about saying, “Here is what’s actually happening beneath the surface – calmly, clearly, and without sensationalism.” And it’s about recognising that once you understand the system, you also start to see the things we can do, both now and over time, to make it stronger.

So let’s walk through it together.

2. How the UK Food System Really Works Beneath the Surface

If you want to understand the fragility of the UK food chain, fertiliser is a surprisingly good place to start. It’s not glamorous, but it’s essential. Without it, UK yields drop sharply. And the UK no longer produces enough of it. We import most of what we use, and those imports depend on global gas markets, global shipping, and global political stability.

When gas prices spike, fertiliser prices spike.

When shipping routes are disrupted, fertiliser availability tightens.

When fertiliser plants shut down – as we’ve seen – CO₂ supplies collapse too, because CO₂ is a by‑product of fertiliser manufacturing. And CO₂ is needed for slaughterhouses, packaging, and parts of food processing.

This is the kind of quiet interdependence most people never see. But it matters, because fertiliser shocks don’t hit immediately. They hit next season, when farmers plant less or apply less. And right now, instability in the Gulf is already affecting global fertiliser markets.

That’s not a prediction – it’s simply what’s happening.

Then there’s the question of how much food the UK actually produces. You’ll often hear that the UK is “60% self‑sufficient in food.”

It sounds reassuring. It’s also misleading.

That number includes feed wheat, barley for whisky, oilseed rape for biodiesel, sugar beet for industrial processing, livestock fed on imported soya, food that is exported, and food that cannot reach consumers without fragile processing.

It’s a production statistic, not a resilience statistic.

When you strip all that out and look only at food that is directly edible and immediately available to UK consumers, the picture changes dramatically.

The real figure is closer to 11%.

That doesn’t mean the UK is about to run out of food. But it does mean the UK is far more dependent on global stability than most people realise. And it means that when global systems wobble – fertiliser, shipping, climate, conflict – the UK feels it quickly.

The UK also relies heavily on imported fruit, vegetables, salad crops, grains, ingredients, fertiliser, and animal feed.

A quarter of our food imports come from the Mediterranean – a region experiencing increasing climate stress. And the UK has no meaningful national food reserves.

This isn’t about fear. It’s about understanding the reality: when weather in Spain or Morocco is extreme, UK shelves feel it.

When shipping routes are disrupted, UK availability tightens.

When other countries restrict exports – as they often do during stress – the UK cannot assume it will simply be able to “buy its way out.”

We are not the only ones shopping on the global market.

The UK food system is also one of the most time‑sensitive in Europe. It relies on fast, predictable movement through a small number of ports and distribution hubs. There is very little storage. The system has days of buffer, not months. This is efficient – until something interrupts it.

Fuel shortages, haulage strikes, cyber incidents, or port delays ripple through the system quickly. Not because anyone has done anything wrong, but because the system was designed for speed, not resilience.

And then there’s the shrinking middle – the processing bottlenecks. Over decades, the UK has closed many of its small abattoirs, dairies, mills, and packhouses.

We now rely on fewer, larger facilities. This is efficient, but it creates single‑point failures. When a major abattoir closes, an entire region can be affected. When CO₂ runs short, slaughterhouses slow or stop. When energy prices spike, some processors simply can’t operate.

These aren’t dramatic events. They’re quiet, practical disruptions that ripple outward.

Perhaps the least discussed vulnerability is the decline of UK horticulture. Energy costs, labour shortages, tight margins, and competition from imports have all contributed to a steady reduction in domestic fruit and vegetable production.

The UK now produces only a fraction of its own salad crops and winter vegetables. This matters because these foods are the ones that keep people healthy. They’re also the foods most sensitive to import disruption.

All of this forms the foundation of the UK food system – and it’s a foundation that is thinner than most people realise.

3. The Global Picture: Why What Happens Elsewhere Matters Here

If the UK’s food system feels fragile when you look closely, the global picture adds another layer entirely. Not because the UK is about to face famine – it isn’t – but because the world we rely on is becoming more unstable, and that instability feeds directly into the UK’s already‑thin domestic resilience.

This is the part of the conversation that rarely reaches the public. News coverage tends to focus on domestic politics, supermarket prices, or the occasional weather‑related shortage. But the real story – the one that explains why the UK is so exposed – is happening across oceans, across continents, and across supply chains that most people never see.

The fertiliser map is one example. A handful of countries dominate global production. When any of them experience disruption – political, economic, or military – the effects ripple across the world.

Instability in the Gulf is already affecting fertiliser markets. Shipping insurance costs are rising. Transit routes are being disrupted. Some producers are prioritising domestic supply. Others are quietly reducing exports.

None of this makes headlines, but all of it affects the price and availability of fertiliser everywhere else.

And because fertiliser is the foundation of modern agriculture, a shock in one region becomes a shock in many. Farmers in East Africa, South Asia, and parts of Latin America are already reducing application rates or switching to lower‑input crops. Lower fertiliser use means lower yields. Lower yields mean tighter global markets. And tighter markets mean higher prices for everyone – including the UK.

Shipping chokepoints matter too. The UK relies on the Red Sea, the Suez Canal, the Strait of Hormuz, and the Mediterranean. Disruptions in any of these routes affect fertiliser, grain, fruit, vegetables, animal feed, and ingredients. This is not hypothetical. It’s happening now.

Climate stress is another pressure. Many of the countries the UK relies on for fruit, vegetables, and salad crops are facing increasing climate stress. Spain, Italy, and Morocco – which supply a large share of the UK’s fresh produce – have all experienced severe droughts, heatwaves, and storms in recent years. When harvests fail in these regions, the UK feels it almost immediately.

Export bans are becoming more common too. When countries face domestic shortages, they restrict exports. India has restricted rice exports. Russia and Ukraine have restricted wheat and sunflower oil at various points. Morocco has restricted tomato exports. Egypt has restricted onions. Dozens of countries have restricted sugar, grains, or vegetables in the past few years.

These bans rarely make UK headlines. But they matter, because they signal a shift in global behaviour: countries are prioritising their own populations first. And in a world where the UK relies heavily on imports, that shift is significant.

Rising famine risk in multiple regions – East Africa, the Sahel, Yemen, Afghanistan, parts of the Middle East – is another sign that the global food system is under strain.

When multiple regions face shortages at the same time, global markets tighten. Prices rise. Competition for imports increases. Export bans become more common.

The UK is not at risk of famine. But it is deeply dependent on a global system that is becoming more volatile. When fertiliser prices rise, UK farmers feel it. When shipping routes are disrupted, UK importers feel it. When climate stress hits Spain or Morocco, UK consumers feel it. When export bans ripple across the world, UK availability tightens.

This isn’t a reason for fear. It’s a reason for awareness. Because once you see the global picture, the UK’s vulnerabilities make more sense – and the path toward resilience becomes clearer.

4. How Stress Moves Through a System Like Ours

When you put all these pieces together, you start to see how stress cascades.

A fertiliser shock leads to reduced planting, which leads to lower yields, which leads to higher prices. A CO₂ shortage slows slaughterhouses, which disrupts meat supply. A shipping delay empties shelves of fresh produce. An energy spike shuts glasshouses, which increases import dependence. A processing closure creates regional supply gaps. Retail concentration means any stress is transmitted quickly to consumers.

None of this is dramatic.

None of it is sensational.

It’s simply how the system behaves.

Food systems don’t fail all at once. They fail in stages, through predictable chain reactions. And because the UK system is so tightly coupled – so dependent on speed, imports, and centralised processing – those chain reactions move quickly.

Understanding this isn’t about predicting collapse. It’s about recognising patterns so we can respond early, thoughtfully, and effectively.

5. The Power Dimension: Who Controls Food, Controls the Future

There is another layer to all of this – one that rarely enters public conversation, yet quietly shapes everything else.

It’s the question of power. Not power in the dramatic sense, but power in the everyday, structural sense: who gets to decide what is grown, how it is grown, how it is processed, how it is moved, and who gets access to it.

It’s easy, when you first begin to understand the fragility of the food system, to feel anger. To look at the concentration of control and think, “How could anyone allow this to happen?”

But the truth is more complicated, and far more human. The centralisation we see today didn’t happen because a group of people set out to weaken resilience or undermine communities. It happened because of decades of decisions – each one rational in isolation – that accumulated into something no one fully intended.

Efficiency was rewarded. Scale was rewarded. Cost‑cutting was rewarded. Globalisation was rewarded. And over time, the system reorganised itself around those incentives. Not because anyone wanted to create fragility, but because fragility is the natural by‑product of a system optimised for efficiency above all else.

This is important to say clearly:

Most of the people working within this system are not acting with malice.

They are not sitting in boardrooms plotting to undermine food security.

They are responding to the pressures, incentives, and expectations of the structures they operate within.

But structures have consequences, even when intentions do not.

As control over land, inputs, processing, logistics, and retail has become concentrated in fewer hands, something subtle but significant has happened: distance has grown between decision‑makers and the people affected by those decisions.

Distance changes how we see each other.

It dulls empathy.

It narrows perspective.

It makes it easier to think in terms of numbers, not lives.

This isn’t a moral failing. It’s a human one.

When decisions are made far from the communities they affect, the lived experience of those communities becomes abstract. When a spreadsheet says a small abattoir is “inefficient,” the spreadsheet doesn’t see the farmers who rely on it, the local economy it supports, or the resilience it provides. When a global corporation decides to consolidate seed production, it doesn’t see the growers who lose access to diversity. When a shipping company reroutes vessels to maximise profit, it doesn’t see the supermarket shelves that will empty weeks later.

This is what centralisation does.

It doesn’t just concentrate power.

It dehumanises the consequences of power.

Over the past few decades, a small number of corporations have come to dominate seeds, fertiliser, chemicals, processing, logistics, and retail. A small number of geopolitical actors control key shipping routes, energy supplies, and fertiliser production. A small number of financial institutions influence land ownership, commodity markets, and investment flows.

This didn’t happen overnight. It happened through mergers, policies, market pressures, trade agreements, and technological systems that rewarded scale and efficiency.

Each step was rationalised.

Each step was justified.

Each step was incremental.

And yet, taken together, they created a system where a handful of actors – none of whom see the whole picture – now hold extraordinary influence over something as fundamental as food.

Most people in positions of power do not see the full implications of their decisions. They see cost, efficiency, margins, budgets, returns, market share. Very few see the whole system. Even fewer see the human consequences. And almost none are rewarded for thinking about resilience, community wellbeing, or long‑term stability.

This is why blame is unhelpful.

Not because harm hasn’t been done – it has – but because the harm is systemic, not personal.

A food system controlled by a few is efficient – until something goes wrong.

A food system shaped by many is resilient – because it can adapt, absorb shocks, and respond to local needs.

Centralisation creates vulnerability.

Distributed agency creates strength.

This is why local governance matters.

This is why regional processing matters.

This is why community capacity matters.

This is why transparency matters.

This is why diversity – of crops, of producers, of infrastructure – matters.

A resilient food system is not built on the assumption that those in power will always make the right decisions.

It is built on the understanding that power must be shared, because shared power creates shared responsibility – and shared responsibility creates systems that value people, not just efficiency.

6. So What Can We Do? The Direction of Travel That Makes Sense

If everything up to this point has been about understanding the vulnerabilities – the thin foundations, the global pressures, the way stress moves, and the structural realities of power – then this part is about something far more important: what we can actually do.

Because awareness without agency is just anxiety.

And this conversation is not about anxiety.

It’s about clarity, and the choices that clarity makes possible.

The truth is that resilience doesn’t come from waiting for someone else to fix things. It comes from the quiet, steady work of communities, farmers, local authorities, small businesses, and ordinary people who decide that the system they depend on should be one they can trust.

So let’s talk about what that looks like – not as a list of tasks, but as a direction of travel.

Rebuilding local capacity means growing more food that people can eat directly – vegetables, pulses, grains, fruit – and supporting mixed farming systems that build soil and reduce dependence on imported fertiliser. It means backing small and medium‑scale growers who supply local markets. This isn’t nostalgia. It’s strategy.

Rebuilding the missing middle means restoring regional processing – abattoirs, dairies, mills, packhouses – so the system isn’t dependent on a handful of large facilities. Distributed processing creates distributed resilience. It keeps value in local economies and gives farmers more options.

Strengthening local governance means empowering local authorities and communities to shape their own food systems – through procurement, planning, partnerships, and shared infrastructure. It means decisions made closer to home, by people who understand local needs.

Creating strategic buffers means building breathing room into the system – grain reserves, seed libraries, community storage, cold chains – so that short‑term disruptions don’t become immediate crises.

Shifting the economic logic means valuing resilience over pure efficiency. It means treating food as a public good, not just a commodity. It means designing systems around human need, not market convenience. It means aligning economic activity with community wellbeing.

None of this requires panic.

None of it requires waiting for permission.

It simply requires seeing the system clearly and choosing to build something stronger.

7. Why This Matters Now

There is a moment, when you begin to see the food system clearly, where everything suddenly feels more urgent. Not frightening – just clearer.

You realise that the vulnerabilities we’ve talked about aren’t abstract. They’re not theoretical. They’re not “for someone else to worry about.”

They’re here, now, woven into the everyday reality of how the UK feeds itself.

This matters now because the world around us is changing faster than the systems we depend on.

Climate patterns are shifting. Global supply chains are under strain. Fertiliser markets are tightening. Shipping routes are becoming less predictable. Export bans are becoming more common. And the UK’s domestic resilience – already thin – is being tested by pressures that are outside our control.

This isn’t a crisis.

It’s a crossroads.

And the choices we make now – as communities, as local authorities, as farmers, as citizens – will shape the food system we inherit in the years ahead.

8. What This Is Not

Before going any further, it’s important to be clear about what this conversation is not.

It is not a prediction of collapse.

It is not a call to panic.

It is not an argument against global trade.

It is not an attack on farmers, retailers, corporations, or policymakers.

It is not a conspiracy theory.

It is not an attempt to assign blame.

It is simply an attempt to see the system as it really is – with honesty, clarity, and compassion.

Most of the people working within the food system are doing their best within the constraints they face. Most are not aware of the full implications of their decisions. Most are responding to pressures they did not create. And most are not rewarded for thinking about resilience, community wellbeing, or long‑term stability.

This is not about pointing fingers.

It is about understanding the structures that shape behaviour – and choosing to build something better.

9. Where This Leads

The UK food system is not broken.

It is not doomed.

It is not beyond repair.

It is simply stretched – thinner than most people realise – and operating in a world that is becoming more volatile.

That combination creates risk, but it also creates opportunity. Because once you see the vulnerabilities clearly, you can begin to strengthen them.

Once you understand how stress moves through the system, you can begin to design buffers.

Once you recognise the role of power and centralisation, you can begin to rebuild agency at the local level.

In some of my other work, Foods We Can Trust, the Local Economy & Governance System, and An Economy for the Common Good, I have written extensively about our relationship with food, the opportunities for change that we have and the kind of system that we now need to embrace that will place food and food production at the heart of everything – as it should be, along with all the basic essentials for life.

These are not abstract ideas. They are practical frameworks for building a food system that is:

more local
more resilient
more humane
more transparent
more accountable
more aligned with the wellbeing of people and the land

A food system we can trust is not built overnight.

It is built through thousands of small decisions – to grow differently, to buy differently, to organise differently, to govern differently.

And the good news is this:

Every step in the right direction strengthens the whole.

This is not a call to alarm.

It is a call to awareness – and to the quiet, steady work of building a future where our food system serves people, communities, and the land on which we all depend.

Foods We Can Trust: A Blueprint for Food Security and Community Resilience in the UK |Online Text

The Local Economy & Governance System | Online Text

An Economy for the Common Good | Full Text

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Reclaiming Food

Taking it Back

Reclaiming Food means taking it back – not just what we eat, but everything food really is.

Food is nutrition, health, energy, power, independence, and the flavour of life. It’s the foundation of our existence and the thread that ties us to land, community, and each other.

Over time, all of that has been replaced by substitutes that answer shallow questions of cost, convenience, and speed, while quietly stripping away the deeper value we still assume is there.

We feel the loss instinctively – the sums don’t add up – and when we look closer, we see how our modern health crises began the moment food stopped being food and became a consumer product.

There’s a strange thing happening in the world today. We talk about food all the time – what we like, what we don’t, what’s healthy, what’s cheap, what’s convenient – yet very few of us ever stop to ask the most basic question of all: what is food, really?

It sounds almost ridiculous to ask. Food is food, isn’t it? It’s what we eat. It’s what fills the shelves. It’s what keeps us alive.

But if you sit with that thought for even a moment, you start to realise that the word “food” has been stretched so far that it no longer tells us anything useful. It’s used to describe a carrot pulled from the ground and a fluorescent, ultra‑processed edible product that contains ingredients you’d never recognise. It’s used to describe something nourishing and something harmful. Something grown and something engineered. Something that supports life and something that slowly undermines it.

We’ve allowed one word to cover two completely different realities. And that confusion isn’t harmless. It’s shaping our health, our communities, our economy, and our future in ways most people never see.

This essay is about reclaiming that word – not inventing a new one, not moralising, not lecturing, but simply restoring clarity to something that should never have been allowed to become so muddled.

Because once you understand what food really is, everything else begins to make sense.

The moment the meaning slipped

For most of human history, food was simple. It came from the land, the sea, the seasons, and the hands of people who understood how to grow, raise, catch, preserve, and prepare it.

Food was local because it had to be. It was recognisable because it couldn’t be anything else. It nourished because that was its purpose – to sustain life, vitality, and community.

Then, slowly at first and then all at once, food became something else.

It became a product.

A commodity.

A brand.

A profit centre.

A tool of influence.

A vehicle for additives, preservatives, enhancers, stabilisers, colourings, and chemicals that no home kitchen has ever needed.

And as this shift happened, the meaning of the word “food” didn’t change – but the reality behind it did.

We still call everything “food,” even when much of what fills our supermarkets and our diets no longer behaves like food at all.

It doesn’t nourish.

It doesn’t support health.

It doesn’t come from a transparent or resilient supply chain.

It doesn’t strengthen communities.

It doesn’t resemble its original form.

It doesn’t even need to be grown in the traditional sense.

Yet it sits on the same shelves, carries the same labels, and is spoken about in the same breath as the things that do.

That’s where the trouble begins.

Why the meaning matters more than we think

When governments talk about food security, they often mean something very narrow: if people can eat something – anything – then the job is done.

It doesn’t matter where it comes from.

It doesn’t matter what’s in it.

It doesn’t matter whether it’s nourishing or harmful.

It doesn’t matter whether the supply chain is fragile or resilient.

It doesn’t matter whether the ingredients have crossed ten borders or been through five factories.

If the shelves aren’t empty, the system is considered to be working.

But this definition hides more than it reveals.

It hides the fact that the UK relies on overseas imports for a huge proportion of what we eat.

It hides the fact that much of the food produced in the UK isn’t actually edible in its raw form and must be processed elsewhere before it returns to us.

It hides the fact that if the borders closed tomorrow, we would have only days before shortages became unavoidable.

It hides the fact that millions of people can only access food that is cheap because it is ultra‑processed, not because it is nutritious or sustainable.

And it hides the most uncomfortable truth of all: that a population can be fed without being nourished, supplied without being secure, and full without being healthy.

When the meaning of food collapses, everything built on top of it becomes unstable.

The system behind the confusion

If you peel back the layers of the modern food system – and there are many – you find something that looks less like a chain and more like an onion. Each layer has its own priorities, its own incentives, and its own version of the truth.

Consumers sit at one end, often unaware of how little influence they actually have.

Farmers sit at the other, squeezed by contracts, pricing structures, and data‑driven demands that leave many earning less than the minimum wage.

Between them sit supermarkets, processors, manufacturers, financiers, corporations, lobbyists, and policymakers – each shaping what food becomes long before it reaches a plate.

The deeper you go, the clearer it becomes that the system isn’t designed around nourishment or resilience. It’s designed around profit, efficiency, and control. It rewards scale, not quality. It rewards processing, not simplicity. It rewards long supply chains, not local ones. It rewards products that can be standardised, preserved, transported, and marketed, not foods that come from soil, seasons, and skilled hands.

And because the system is so complex, so opaque, and so normalised, most people never question it. They assume that what’s available must be what’s best. They assume that if something is on a shelf, it must be safe. They assume that if it’s cheap, it must be efficient. They assume that if it’s everywhere, it must be food.

But assumptions are exactly what this system depends on.

A clearer way to understand what we eat

To reclaim the meaning of food, we need a way to talk about it that reflects reality rather than marketing. We need a simple, honest framework that anyone can understand – something that cuts through the confusion without judging or shaming.

Here is that framework.

1. Food

Food is something grown, raised, caught, or harvested. It resembles its original form when you eat it. It can be prepared in a home kitchen without needing industrial processes. It nourishes because it contains the nutrients nature intended. It comes from supply chains that can, in principle, be local, transparent, and accountable.

Food is vegetables, fruits, grains, pulses, fish, meat, eggs, milk, herbs, and the things made from them using traditional or minimally mechanised methods. It is bread made from flour, water, yeast, and salt. It is cheese made from milk and cultures. It is butter churned from cream. It is food that your great‑grandparents would recognise.

Food is the foundation of health, resilience, and vitality.

2. Food Products

Food products begin as food but go through processing that changes their form while still keeping them recognisable. They are the things that make everyday life easier: pasta, tinned tomatoes, yoghurt, cured meats, jams, pickles, and many baked goods.

They are processed, but in ways that could be done by hand, even if machines now do the work. They are not inherently harmful. They are part of a balanced, practical diet. They sit in the middle ground – not raw, not engineered, but still fundamentally food.

3. Edible Products

Edible products are not food in any meaningful sense, even though they are sold as if they are. They are engineered combinations of extracted ingredients, additives, preservatives, colourings, stabilisers, and chemicals that have been broken down, reassembled, and enhanced to create something that tastes good, lasts long, and maximises profit.

They are designed for shelf life, not health. For convenience, not nourishment. For addiction, not wellbeing.

They are the products that dominate the modern diet not because they are better, but because they are more profitable.

Once you see the difference between these three categories, you can’t unsee it. And once you understand it, you begin to understand why so many of the problems we face – from chronic disease to supply chain fragility – make perfect sense.

How edible products replaced food

This shift didn’t happen overnight. It happened slowly, through a series of small, seemingly harmless changes.

Supermarkets began to dominate the food landscape, offering convenience and choice while quietly reshaping the entire supply chain.

Processors and manufacturers expanded their influence, turning raw ingredients into products that could travel further and last longer.

Globalisation made it possible to source ingredients from anywhere, often at the expense of local producers.

Marketing convinced us that convenience was the same as value.

And as prices were squeezed, farmers were pushed into contracts that left them with little control over what they grew or how they grew it.

At the same time, the rise of ultra‑processing introduced a new kind of “food” – one that didn’t need seasons, soil, or skilled hands. One that could be made anywhere, from anything, as long as the final product tasted good and cost little.

The result is a food system where the most profitable products are the least nourishing, and the most nourishing foods are often the hardest to access.

This isn’t a conspiracy. It’s a consequence of incentives. But the effect is the same: edible products have crowded out food, and most people haven’t noticed.

The consequences we can no longer ignore

When a population eats mostly edible products, the consequences show up everywhere.

They show up in rising rates of obesity, diabetes, heart disease, inflammation, and chronic illness.

They show up in the strain on the NHS.

They show up in the loss of local farms, the decline of rural communities, and the erosion of food skills.

They show up in the fragility of supply chains that depend on global stability in a world that is anything but stable.

They show up in the growing number of people who rely on foodbanks, not because they mismanage money, but because wages no longer match the cost of living.

And they show up in the quiet, creeping loss of control over something as fundamental as what we eat – and therefore over our health, our independence, and our future.

A country that cannot feed itself is not secure.

A population that cannot access nourishing food is not healthy.

A society that cannot distinguish food from edible products is not informed.

And a system that treats food as a commodity rather than a necessity is not sustainable.

These are not abstract concerns. They are immediate, personal, and deeply human.

Reclaiming food: where change begins

Reclaiming food doesn’t mean rejecting modern life or romanticising the past. It means restoring clarity to a word that has been stretched beyond recognition. It means understanding the difference between food, food products, and edible products so that we can make informed choices. It means supporting local producers not out of nostalgia, but because they are essential to resilience. It means recognising that food security is not just about calories, but about nourishment, access, affordability, and independence.

It means asking better questions.

Where did this come from?

Who made it?

Could I make it myself?

Does it resemble its original form?

Is it nourishing?

Is it part of a resilient system, or a fragile one?

And it means accepting that the power to change the food system doesn’t lie only with governments or corporations.

It lies with communities, with growers, with families, with individuals who choose to understand what they are eating and why.

Reclaiming food is not a campaign. It’s a shift in perspective. Once you see the difference, you can’t go back.

The future we choose

We don’t need a new word for good food. We need to reclaim the word “food” and stop using it to describe edible products that undermine our health, our communities, and our future.

Food should mean nourishment.

Food should mean trust.

Food should mean resilience.

Food should mean independence.

Food should mean the flavour of life.

Once we reclaim the meaning, everything else becomes possible.

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Dynamic Food Pricing in a Time of Looming Shortages: Why the UK Must Pay Attention Now

There’s a shift taking place in the way food pricing is being discussed in the UK, and it’s happening at a moment when people are already under pressure.

Supplies are tightening, costs are rising, and households are having to make decisions they shouldn’t have to make about the basics.

Against that backdrop, the idea of dynamic food pricing has begun to surface – not as a distant concept, but as something the system is quietly preparing for.

Supermarkets are not using dynamic pricing yet. That matters.

But the steps being taken now – by both retailers and institutions – show a direction of travel that deserves attention.

Because when food becomes scarce, pricing becomes a mechanism of control.

And when pricing becomes dynamic, access becomes selective.

The Bank of England Has Already Opened the Door

The clearest sign that this isn’t just a technical upgrade came from the Bank of England.

In recent comments, the Bank’s deputy governor explained that digitalisation has “radically reduced” the cost of changing prices, making rapid, algorithm‑driven pricing far more viable. The Bank also expects a significant share of UK businesses to adopt algorithmic pricing tools over the next few years.

This isn’t a supermarket experiment.

It’s being framed as the natural evolution of retail by the institution responsible for overseeing the economy.

When the central bank normalises a practice, it sets the tone for the entire system.

It tells businesses: this is acceptable.

It tells regulators: this is expected.

And it quietly signals to the public that the rules are changing.

Supermarkets Are Installing the Infrastructure

While supermarkets insist they are not using dynamic pricing, they are installing the technology that would make it possible.

Digital shelf labels – the small electronic screens replacing paper price tags – are being rolled out across the major chains. Morrisons is fitting them in every store. ASDA has installed them in hundreds of Express branches. Co‑op has already fitted more than 700 stores and plans to expand to over 2,300. Tesco, Sainsbury’s and Lidl are all trialling or testing the same systems.

Digital labels are not dynamic pricing. But they are the mechanism through which dynamic pricing can be implemented instantly, centrally, and without fanfare.

When asked directly whether they intend to use dynamic pricing in future, most supermarkets simply refuse to answer.

That silence is more revealing than any denial.

The Petrol‑Price Pattern: A Real‑World Example of What Dynamic Pricing Looks Like

If you want to understand how dynamic pricing behaves in practice, you don’t need to imagine futuristic scenarios. You only need to look at petrol.

When the price of crude oil rises, petrol prices at the pump rise almost immediately.

When crude oil falls, the price at the pump drops slowly – sometimes painfully slowly.

That difference between how fast prices rise and how slowly they fall is profit. And it’s a perfect example of how dynamic pricing works in the real world.

It responds instantly when it benefits the retailer.

It responds slowly when it doesn’t.

Now apply that logic to food – not in the extreme sense of prices changing while something is in your trolley, but in the far more realistic sense of prices changing at different times of the day, or rising during peak demand, or increasing when shortages make certain items more sought‑after.

This is the real concern.

Not science‑fiction scenarios, but the everyday reality of prices shifting in ways that quietly push the most vulnerable out of affordability.

Shortages Change the Meaning of Dynamic Pricing

Dynamic pricing during abundance is one thing.

Dynamic pricing during scarcity is something else entirely.

When food is limited, prices that move with demand don’t protect people – they prioritise those who can afford to absorb the rises.

The people who need the basics the most are the ones most likely to be priced out, not because there isn’t enough food to meet need, but because meeting the wants of those who can pay more is more profitable.

This is the heart of the issue.

Dynamic pricing doesn’t ration food.

It rations access.

And it does so based on wealth, not need.

The Context: How We Reached This Point

Dynamic pricing isn’t appearing in a vacuum. It’s emerging after years of subtle shifts in how food is priced and presented – shifts that have already eroded trust and stability.

Shrinkflation has quietly reduced the size of products while prices stay the same or rise. A 250g block of butter becomes 200g, and the packaging barely changes. People notice, but the explanation is always the same: inflation, supply chains, global events.

Loyalty‑card‑only pricing has created a two‑tier system where the “real” price is only available if you hand over your data. If a supermarket can afford to sell something at the loyalty price, that’s the price – with their profit margin. The higher price is simply a penalty for not participating in the data‑collection model – a form of everyday surveillance capitalism.

And then there are the offers that aren’t really offers, the discounts that only apply to certain sizes, the prices that seem to shift more often than they used to. All of this creates a sense of instability that people feel long before they can articulate it.

Recognising all of this isn’t about treating people like they can’t or don’t understand what’s happening.

It’s about acknowledging that they’ve been living through these changes for years – often without anyone naming them plainly.

Where Things Actually Stand

Regrettably, it would be easy to jump to many conclusions with the evidence that is already unfolding in plain sight. However, the picture to day is as follows: