Exploring

It was a chilly Sunday in November 2000 when the gods chose to smile on Ken Wallace. The retired teacher was sweeping his metal detector across a hillside in Leicestershire’s Welland valley when a series of beeps brought him up short. Digging down, he found a cache of buried coins almost two millennia old. He had chanced upon one of the UK’s most important iron age hoards, totalling about 5,000 silver and gold coins.

More than 25 years on, I’m staring at Ken’s find at the civic museum in the nearby town of Market Harborough. The now gleaming coins are decorated with wreaths and horses. They’re about the size of 5p pieces, but speak of a wild-eyed age of tribal lands and windswept hill forts.

Hidden riches are something of a local theme here. The treasure was unearthed close to the Leicestershire-Northamptonshire border, in a sloping, sheep-dotted landscape where the River Welland ribbons eastwards in no special hurry. The town (“people just call it Harb”, one of the museum staff tells me) is the main settlement in this stretch of the valley. I’ve come here on a short winter visit to see why the area – hills, villages, Harb and all – gets described as an unsung alternative to the Cotswolds.

The town itself has ancient Saxon roots and is easy to like, with a head-turning mix of Jacobean, Georgian and Victorian architecture. I stumble on Quinns, a cracking independent bookshop tucked down an alleyway, then devour a curry bowl at a lively cafe called Two Old Goats. A board on the street lists notable town residents through the ages, the most recent being rugby giant Martin Johnson. I read this, then turn and immediately see him on the pavement 10 metres away. It’s unclear if this clever routine is something he does for all visitors, but he’s hard to miss in any case.

The real pull of the Welland valley is the countryside, a slow-moving world of hushed green dales and drifting red kites. On local advice, I head to rural Foxton Locks – Britain’s highest combination of staircase canal locks, where 10 adjacent early 19th-century locks transport boats up and down a 23-metre hillside – for a gawp and a wander. “It takes 50 minutes for boats to get from one end to the other,” says volunteer Malcolm, who seems delighted to have a visitor to talk to. The neatly painted locks rise up handsomely beside us.

You need a decent woolly hat to go gongoozling (that is, canal-watching) in December, but there are rewards to be had. The skies are already fading to a wintery grey when I climb past the locks to the upper towpath. The narrowboats I see are moored up, their chimneys smoking and their roofs decorated with bums-out gnomes. I walk the path for an hour of rippled quietude, passing little other than moorhens and blackthorn sloes, then return the same way.

Back at the locks I stop at tiny canalside pub Bridge 61, where I find a crackling log grate and a row of Camra certificates. The barman pours me a Widebeam bitter from Langton Brewery. “Local ale,” he says. “From three miles up the way as the crow flies.” Proof, it turns out, that beer doesn’t have to travel far to hit the spot.

My base is nearby Medbourne, one of numerous placid, calendar-pretty villages that stud the Welland valley. Medbourne has a clear stream, a lovely pub – the Nevill Arms, where I spend the night in a four-poster and enjoy exactly the kind of warming, candle-lit dinner you’d want from a country inn in winter – and cottages built of tough, reddish Leicestershire ironstone.

The next morning I meet local author and poet Tim Relf for a three-hour footpath ramble in the hills. Crossing stiles and ridge-and-furrow fields, he leads us to a spot above his home village of Drayton, from where the valley’s rolling green folds reveal themselves to the full. “You can make out six churches from here,” he says. He’s right. Their medieval spires punctuate a view that tumbles out for miles in all directions.

Drayton itself is home to the smallest of these churches, a stone chapel with pews that seat about 25 people. It once spent time as the village bakery and still has a bricked-up serving hatch. “The vicar likes joking about the fact that Bethlehem translates as ‘House of Bread’,” Tim smiles.

Close by, they’re used to far bigger crowds at the hilltop Nevill Holt Hall. In early summer, the Grade I-listed hall draws thousands of opera and music lovers for its annual arts festival, though when we pass it on this midweek December morning its trimmed lawns and topiary are as quiet as everywhere else.

We finish in Great Easton, another village of thatched roofs and wide lanes. It has a little cafe, aptly called the Great, where I refuel on coffee and sticky spiced ginger cake before heading to Eyebrook reservoir on the village outskirts. It’s a glorious spot for winter birding – teal, wigeon and great white egrets in the shallows, a 200-strong flock of lapwings billowing overhead – and completely uncommercialised, with a tiny car park and just one other birdwatcher. He’s excited at seeing five smew a little earlier. I give it an hour and don’t see them, but still leave feeling enchanted.

Even a short trip needs a finale, which comes in the form of the extraordinary Harringworth Viaduct. I’m staggered when it comes into full view. The viaduct is a bona fide marvel of Victorian mega-engineering, a colossal 82-arch span stretching right across the valley. Glinting beneath it is the River Welland itself, looping and languid. It seems improbable that such an attractive valley should be hiding in plain sight in the middle of the country, but there’s not a tour bus to be seen. A treasure, indeed.

The trip was provided by the Nevill Arms in Medbourne, which has doubles from £140 B&B

The Technology Mind Health half-day summit, hosted by the Global Academy for Future Governance (GAFG) and its partners, brought together interdisciplinary leaders, researchers, and thinkers to explore the intersection of digital technologies and human psychological well-being. Reflecting the Academy’s foundational mission to enhance the development of governments, businesses, academia, civil society, and consumers through ethical and human-centered deployment of technology, the event underscored that technological progress, when governed thoughtfully, can strengthen individual and collective mental health rather than undermine it.

What made this event truly unparalleled on a global scale was its extraordinary diversity, uniting every geography and every generation under the Global Academy’s platform. No other gathering brings together both the developing and the developed world in such a format—not only in its audience but also among its speakers.

The summit indeed offered a genuinely equal platform across continents and age groups: from seasoned experts and leading professionals to the youngest participant, just 11 years old. All stood side by side, engaged in a shared mission to confront one of the most urgent issues of our time, the relationship between technology, mind, and health, and to collectively explore the challenges and chart future pathways.

Or, as the Development-8 Secretary-General, Isiaka A. Imam, urged previously, the emerging digital world must be co-written by all nations, not inherited by a few. These are words that were further detailed by Charles Oppenheimer, who warned that AI is a new primordial fire, powerful enough to uplift humanity or to undo it. 

Mission and Framing

Founded to advance the ‘3M’ matrix (maximum good for maximum species over maximum time), mindful, measurable, and mutually beneficial technological integration across sectors, the Global Academy for Future Governance promotes sustainable progress free of hidden social, environmental, and health costs. Its interdisciplinary, multispatial, cross-sector mandate aligns with pressing global needs to distinguish substantive technological challenges from hype and to strengthen frameworks that enable early identification and mitigation of risks.

The Technology Mind Health summit of early December 2025 opened with a warm introduction delivered by Dr. Philippe Reinisch, GAFG co‑founder. He highlighted this gathering as the inaugural event for the newly created GAFG and emphasized the importance of bridging technology and society with human enhancement, including human mental wellness.

Acting as the GAFG host, Jesinta Adams, Assistant Director-General of GAFG, spoke passionately about the central role different generations play at the intersection of technology and mind health. 

Voices from Leadership and Thought

The event began with a prerecorded (unauthorized) address by Dr. Khaled El‑Enany Ezz, a candidate for UNESCO Secretary‑General. This powerful note reflected on humanity’s current crossroads amid rapid technological change, underscoring rising challenges related to health, wealth inequality, and psychological well‑being. He emphasized education as the essential tool for guiding technological deployment with wisdom, extending beyond technical mastery into cultural and ethical literacy. His message was clear: “Use technology as a tool rather than a master.”

Following this, Vladimir Norov, former Foreign Minister of Uzbekistan and former Secretary‑General of the Shanghai Cooperation Organisation, addressed the Summit. He drew attention to expanding societal risks, including threats to mental health, social cohesion, privacy, and equitable access, but urged attendees to consider the transformative potential of AI when governed ethically. Highlighting examples from medical innovation in Central Asia, Norov stressed three core principles for beneficial technological integration: human‑centered design, ethical governance, and resilience building. He concluded, “Technology does not replace us but elevates us.” 

Expert Contributions on Mind, Health, and Technology

Closing on the high level, the keynote addresses and the substantive section as the central part of the Summit have started with Dr. KaT Zarychta, a specialist in technology, innovation, and holistic health. She opened by comparing artificial intelligence to the human mind, reminding audiences that AI cannot feel, empathize, or emotionally self‑correct. She argued that the most effective path forward lies in human‑AI collaboration, where evidence‑based digital tools support rather than supplant human capacities. Dr. Zarychta closed with a call to co‑create a world where psychological well‑being is nurtured and protected in tandem with technological innovation.

As the next speaker, Marisa Peer, RTT founder and bestselling author, focused on the role of social media as a source of disconnection and psychological distress. She highlighted the platforms’ addictive dynamics and their proliferation of unrealistic ideals that fuel dissatisfaction and self‑doubt. She urged reimagining digital spaces as tools for learning, growth, and mental enrichment—enabling technology to expand, not contract, human potential.

Prof. John A. Naslund, co‑director of the Mental Health for All Lab at Harvard Medical School, addressed the global mental health crisis, particularly rising depression rates. He introduced the EMPOWER Model, a psychosocial behavioral intervention framework emphasizing community‑based support and scalable delivery. Naslund highlighted the model’s adaptability, from teenagers to adults, and its multilingual expansion, demonstrating how evidence‑driven designs can strengthen resilience across populations.

Dr. Malek Bajbouj, Head of Psychiatry and Psychotherapy at Charité Berlin, examined psychological health in contexts of conflict, pandemics, and ecological anxiety. He described the accelerating demand for mental health support and positioned trustworthy digital tools as essential if governed ethically. According to Dr. Bajbouj, resilient mental health systems rest on population‑wide strategies, transparent communication, and sustained trust in public institutions.

From Uruguay, Professor María Castelló of the Clemente Estable Research Institute investigated neurological and psychological effects of prolonged technology use, especially in youth. She highlighted concerns about brain development, anxiety, depression, and unhealthy digital habits. Yet Castelló also acknowledged potential cognitive benefits, such as enhanced memory, behavioral functioning, and multitasking skills. Her call to action called for policies that address digital inequities and mental health from a neuro‑social perspective rather than one‑size‑fits‑all approaches. 

In her part, Prof. Birgitta Dresp-Langley identified excessive childhood exposure to digital environments as a central factor underlying a range of growing health concerns. Prolonged screen time indoors reduces children’s exposure to natural daylight, which is essential for healthy visual development, sleep regulation, and metabolic balance. This deficit is linked to increasing rates of early myopia, obesity, sleep disorders, depression, and behavioral difficulties, with risks emerging even in very young children.

French professor Dresp-Langley proposes a unifying biological model in which reduced daylight and increased artificial light disrupt vitamin D and melatonin production, leading to deregulation of serotonin and dopamine pathways in the developing brain. These neurochemical changes resemble those seen in addictive disorders and may result in long-term cognitive, emotional, and behavioral consequences. She concluded her detailed writing contribution to the Summit by concluding that urgent awareness, preventive policies, and increased outdoor activity are needed to mitigate these risks.

Youth Engagement and Future Directions

The event culminated with the announcement of winners from the Technology Mind Health Essay Competition, led by Theodora Vounidi (Balkan Youth Initiative founder). Contestants (aged 14-18 and 18-28) discussed the correlation between digital technology and mental health and the need for balance between analog and digital time, as well as the newly formed ‘always online’ (sub-)culture.

With 40 global submissions comprising about 60 writers, as some elected to work in teams, including from the youngest entrant at age 11 (demoiselle Tess), the competition highlighted both the breadth of youth engagement and the global relevance of the human technology dialogue.

First place was awarded to Nikos Galitsis from Greece, second place to Claudio Monani from Italy, and third place was awarded to Kenedy Agustin from the Philippines, while fourth place was secured by a participant from India. Fifth place was awarded to the youngest entrant from Singapore. The top three winners of the competition were given the opportunity to present their work, offering insightful perspectives on the emerging intersection of technology and mental health. 

Main takeaways & future outlook

The Technology Mind Health summit highlighted a crucial truth—as encapsulated in the closing remarks by Prof. Anis H. Bajrektarevic, GAFG cofounder, “technological advancement is inevitable, but its impact on humanity is not predetermined—it depends on the collective choices we make.”

Across sessions, speakers emphasized that technology can either be a catalyst for psychological well-being or a source of disruption, depending on how it is designed, governed, and integrated into society. Ethical frameworks, evidence-based policies, and human-centered governance are essential to ensure that digital tools empower rather than diminish individual and collective mental health.

Equally important is the role of education, intergenerational dialogue, and global collaboration. As the GAFG summit demonstrated, solutions require insights from every sector, culture, and age group—from seasoned professionals to the youngest participants. By fostering awareness of risks such as digital overexposure, social media-induced stress, and inequitable access, while simultaneously encouraging innovative approaches for mental wellness, society can navigate the technological landscape thoughtfully.

Ultimately, the responsibility to shape a future where technology enhances rather than undermines human flourishing lies with all stakeholders—governments, academia, civil society, businesses, and individuals alike.

By successfully conducting such a complex and content-rich event, the GAFG demonstrated its true capability to provide flexible, impartial, and highly engaging solutions for the FAST technology to both the public and private sectors.

In recognition of the summit’s success and the youth essay competition’s impact, the Global Academy for Future Governance (GAFG) has decided to annualize both the Technology-Mind-Health Summit and the essay competition (with its BYI partner), ensuring ongoing dialogue and engagement at the intersection of technology, meridians, generations, and mental well-being.

When I first came to London from Yorkshire in the late 1980s, I found the tube replete with bizarre novelties. Among them was the way most trains required me to sit sideways to the direction of travel, as on a fairground waltzer. Directly opposite me was another person or an empty seat, and while I knew not to stare at people, I did stare at the seats – at their woollen coverings, called moquette. I have since written two books about them, the first nonfiction, Seats of London, and now a crime novel, The Moquette Mystery.

I was attracted to moquette firstly because it, like me, came from Yorkshire (most of it back then was woven in Halifax), and whereas many foreign metros have seats of plastic or steel, moquette made the tube cosy. Yet it seemed underappreciated. The index of the standard history of the tube, for instance, proceeds blithely from Moorgate to Morden.

A moquette might last a decade or more on a particular vehicle, coinciding with a Londoner’s formative years, the design evoking forever after those tube rides to triumphs and disasters. For generation Z, the resonant one is likely to be Barman, introduced in 2010 to replace a range of moquettes deemed too diffuse. Therefore, our two-hour moquette tour begins on one of the many lines to use Barman: the Northern line, from Leicester Square to Charing Cross.

Barman is named after Christian Barman, publicity officer to Frank Pick who, as vice-chair of London Transport in the 1930s, commissioned the roundel symbol, the tube map, Charles Holden’s subtly modernist station architecture and many posters and moquettes. Barman was designed by Wallace Sewell (Harriet Wallace-Jones and Emma Sewell) and, unusually for moquette, it’s figurative; but it’s also mysterious. The landmarks it depicts seem suffused in a haze of blue rain, and the harder you stare, the more the top of Big Ben becomes Battersea Power Station – and is that Southwark cathedral looming ghostly behind the dome of St Paul’s?

At Charing Cross, we change on to the Bakerloo, which has a darker version of Barman, the same landmarks at night, perhaps. The sombre black, grey and brown colour scheme suits the crepuscular mood of these elderly trains; it is also historically valid. In the early 1920s, the first moquette widely applied on the underground – called Lozenge – was the colour of dried mud, a capitulation to the dirtiness of clothes in those days before widespread dry-cleaning.

In the late 1930s, Frank Pick commissioned brighter moquettes from leading textile designers, including Enid Marx and Marion Dorn. He favoured red and green – red symbolising the town, green the country – and he considered green serene. My novel is set in this golden age of the underground, epitomised by the lambent glamour of Piccadilly Circus station concourse, which features a sort of shrine to Pick, showing his watchwords in brass on the marble wall. These range from “Utility” to “Beauty”, and moquette has usually been filed under the first word, but the second applies to the best of it.

We go from Picadilly Circus to Green Park on the Piccadilly line – Barman again, but with a richer blue than on the Northern line. It reflects the line colour and the dark blue of the Underground roundel bar, which a transport designer once described to me as “the reassuring colour of an old-fashioned police lamp”.

At Green Park, we take the Victoria line to Oxford Circus. This unnamed moquette uses multiple V-shapes, evoking she who was not amused. The Vs are white, which shows the dirt, but the radiated light suggests diamond facets and alleviates the claustrophobia of this line which never comes above ground.

At Oxford Circus, we observe some Central line trains, waiting for a lucky break. Most have Barman, but some refurbished trains have a new red, black and grey moquette called Tuppenny, the Central having once been “the Tuppenny Tube”. It is reminiscent of a Central line moquette of the late 80s, my “home” line back then, when the red and black seemed consoling, like a coal fire.

I suggested to Paul Marchant, head of product design at Transport for London, that Tuppenny was “retro”. “Yes,” he said, “I was on holiday when it was commissioned!” A joke (I think), but moquette is meant to keep pace with London; it is not supposed to be retro. Currently, only two Central line trains have Tuppenny, so the odds are against our sitting on it while heading west to our next stop, Bond Street.

Here, we board the Elizabeth line for Paddington. Most moquettes have four colours, but on the luxurious, hi-tech Lizzy line, it has about eight. The designers (Wallace Sewell) were briefed to incorporate royal purple, a strident shade unlikely to be “serene” if emphasised. So it’s subsumed here amid others, representing connecting lines and suggesting train movements digitally represented in some futuristic signal box.

At Paddington, we board a Circle or Hammersmith & City line train heading east. We are now on one of the “cut-and-cover” lines just below street level. If you don’t know which lines are sub-surface, the moquette on those trains tells you. The colours of the small rectangles set against a black background denote the Circle, H&C, District and Metropolitan lines.

Moquette has a pile – tufts – that can be left as loops or cut for a more vivid colour and a velvety texture, and this sub-surface one is entirely cut, so it is not as hard-wearing as others. The seats near the doors (the most popular ones) are badly worn, with the backing fabric “grinning through”, to use the technical term. I am assured there are “big plans” to address this.

At King’s Cross we head south on the Piccadilly line to Covent Garden and the London Transport Museum. In the cafe, we sip the museum’s excellent coffee while sitting on seats covered with their own special moquette, which is red and green in homage to Frank Pick. In the museum shop, moquettes past and present are for sale as bags, cushions, pouffes and so on. That Londoners are willing to pay to have a symbol of public transport in their homes is a tribute to the legacy of Pick. As the man himself said: “The quality of our surroundings contributes to the quality of our own lives.”

Andrew Martin’s novel, The Moquette Mystery, is published by Safe Haven. To support the Guardian, order your copy at guardianbookshop.com. Delivery charges may apply