living

Tenerife has long been an extremely popular destination for holidaymakers from the UK. Not only is it just a few hours away by plane – but there are plenty of deals on package holidays too

Tenerife is one of the most popular holiday destinations for Brits, with around 2.3 million people from the UK flocking to the sun-drenched island every single year. Just a few hours away by plane, the Spanish island is famous for its beautiful beaches, hot temperatures, and cloudless skies.

But, according to one Brit living in the Canary Islands destination, there’s one thing about the holiday hotspot lots of people don’t know. Andrew Knight, known on social media as The Knightsrider, runs a bar and a car hire business in Tenerife, and frequently shares looks into life on the island with his followers on social media.

In a recent clip on TikTok, Andrew revealed something he claimed “the internet isn’t telling you”. “That is the fact that this weather, the gorgeous ocean, the boat trips, the excursions, and everything, all run all year round,” he said.

What is Tenerife like in the winter?

Andrew said: “So many people message, or they call me up, or they ask me on the live streams, ‘Is this running in the winter?’, ‘Is this running in November?’, ‘What is open in December?’ Remember, Tenerife is 365 days a year.”

He continued: “So whether it’s winter, November, January, Christmas Day – everything is running. You’re gonna have average temperatures in the winter months of like 23 degrees in the daytime.”

Andrew added “the sea temperature doesn’t change much”, and the beaches remain busy in the winter. “We have a big rush and a big influx in the summer, but the winter months are actually our most solid months for me,” he said.

“That’s our busiest with the cars. We’re mad busy with the excursions then as well. So bear that in mind.

“It’s not spoken about enough, it’s not made clear enough online when you’re booking holidays and things. The Canary Islands, and Tenerife in particular, especially the south, is fantastic in the winter months, and we are an all-year-round amazing place to visit.

“So have a look, get it booked. You can find some great winter sunshine. Four hour flight from the UK, five hours from Germany, Sweden, etc, and you’ll be here in the sunshine rather than freezing, miserable, raining at home.”

Concluding, he said: “You can get some great deals, have a look at it. But Tenerife is an all-year-round destination. Ignore what the internet says.”

Why is Tenerife such a popular holiday destination for Brits?

Tenerife has long been an extremely popular destination for holidaymakers from the UK. Not only is it relatively nearby – just a few hours away by plane – but there are plenty of deals on package holidays to the island available too.

The south of the island is known for its stunning beaches, luxury resorts, and vibrant nightlife, as well as a wealth of places to eat and drink, but there’s more to see and do too. Tenerife is also home to the Mount Teide National Park, a UNESCO World Heritage Site filled with volcanic rock formations surrounding an active volcano, while the north of the island offers a more authentic local experience, with beautiful architecture and incredible food and drink.

Siam Park, a huge Thailand-themed water park, and Loro Parque, an animal and conservation park home to wildlife including lions, dolphins, penguins, gorillas, hippos, and much more, are also popular with visitors of all ages.

Direct flights to Tenerife are available from most UK airports.

New Delhi, India – In a crowded ward of New Delhi’s All India Institute of Medical Sciences (AIIMS), India’s premier public hospital, a mother sits quietly beside her 29-year-old son, Piyush Singh*.

Diagnosed with stomach cancer a year ago, Singh has already undergone five rounds of chemotherapy. He now lies in the hospital’s palliative care unit, where the goal is no longer to cure the disease but to relieve pain and preserve his dignity.

“The world comes to AIIMS when they are not well. But where shall we go?” asks his mother. “My son has already received five doses of chemotherapy, but his condition has not improved. The doctors are not telling us anything. I don’t know what to do next.”

Piyush’s family is not asking for his life to end. They simply don’t know what comes when treatment fails.

A few floors away, Aryan* has come to AIIMS from Auraiya, a small town in Uttar Pradesh state, to accompany his 40-year-old brother Amit (name changed), who has been battling mouth cancer for four years. Two surgeries, radiation and two rounds of chemotherapy later, doctors say there is little hope of him surviving. The final checkup has been done. There is nothing more left to try.

“There is no duvidha [dilemma in Hindi],” says Aryan. “The doctors have said no. So it is clear now.”

He plans to take Amit to his rented flat in Gurgaon and give him whatever painkillers he has been prescribed. Beyond that, he has no plan, because no one has given him one.

“I don’t know about palliative care. I don’t know how to ease his pain. I have nothing apart from the medicines I got today,” he said.

Piyush and Amit are no exceptions. They represent a reality that many Indians are coming to terms with – with little institutional help.

India recorded an estimated 1.56 million new cancer cases in 2024, according to an Indian Council of Medical Research study published in the Journal of the American Medical Association. But cancer patients are not alone. Families of patients with traumatic brain injuries and degenerative neurological conditions also hit the same wall.

According to a 2025 analysis by ecancermedicalscience, an open-access medical journal, an estimated seven to 10 million people require palliative care in India, but only about 4 percent receive it.

Such families find themselves with little or no awareness or preparedness for what comes next. Many have never heard of palliative care, or that the law gives them the right to document their treatment preferences before a crisis arrives.

The problem is also rooted in how many Indians confront death – a phenomenon that is one of the least-discussed subjects within families or societies. In many households, conversations about dying are considered inauspicious.

In such a worldview, to think of interventions in how or when someone dies carries a moral weight that goes beyond medicine or law. Families often avoid discussing medical wishes until a loved one is critically ill, leaving relatives to make deeply personal decisions during moments of grief and uncertainty.

From caregiving to court

The answers are increasingly being shaped not just by medicine, but also by the law.

In 2018, India’s Supreme Court recognised that the “right to die with dignity” was part of the fundamental right to life, enshrined in Article 21 of the Indian Constitution.

The court also allowed such patients to record their wishes about life-sustaining treatment if they lose the capacity to decide in an advanced stage of their ailment.

The top court’s ruling was in response to a petition filed by Common Cause, an NGO, which called for legal procedures allowing terminally ill individuals to execute Advance Medical Directives, commonly known as “living wills”, to refuse life-prolonging medical treatment.

A living will is a legal document that highlights an individual’s preferences for medical treatment when they cannot voice their choices. The provision allows them to nominate a loved one to decide for them.

“It [judgement] broadens the scope of Article 21. It now affirms, kind of completely, that the right to life includes the right to die with dignity. That is the bottom line for us,” Vipul Mudgal, director of Common Cause, the organisation behind the 2005 petition, told Al Jazeera.

Yet, for most Indians, that right largely existed on paper – until six years later.

In 2024, a family in Ghaziabad, an industrial district on the outskirts of New Delhi, filed a petition in the Delhi High Court and later in the Supreme Court, asking for a decision on the fate of a 32-year-old patient who was in a vegetative state for nearly 13 years.

Harish Rana’s case was a first in India where passive euthanasia, or withdrawal of life support, was permitted by the top court. On March 11, the Supreme Court directed the withdrawal of his life support at AIIMS, New Delhi. He passed away two weeks later.

But the journey from caregiving to courtroom was not easy.

Rana’s family managed his feeding tube, tracheostomy and urine bag every day for 13 years, and it had drained them.

“A family reaches such a decision when it sees no scope for improvement. Harish Rana could not speak, we were his voice,” Rana’s father Ashok told Al Jazeera. “He was not in that state for 13 days or 13 months, but for 13 years.”

All those years, said Ashok, he watched his son breathe but not recover, with only one question on his mind: “I am around 63 years old, and my wife is 58 years old. If something happens to either of us, who would take care of him?”

That is when they decided to approach the court.

While the Rana case is a landmark, experts say it is unlikely to set an immediate precedent in a country where death is an uncomfortable topic. That is why, despite being legalised in 2018, living wills remain uncommon and largely unheard of.

As a result, terminally ill patients do not discuss their wishes while they still can, and families end up making decisions for them without preparation or guidance.

A 2019 survey across seven cities, including New Delhi, Mumbai and Kolkata, by Healthcare at Home (HCAH), a health advocacy group, found that 73 percent of urban Indians were unaware of their right to a living will. Even among people aware of their right, only 6 percent had actually drafted such a will.

“The Harish Rana case was made more complex because there was no living will,” said Manish Jain, the lawyer who represented the family in court. “Living will clinics are absent across India.”

There are only two such clinics in India. The first opened in Mumbai last year, followed by one in New Delhi – both operated by private hospitals, which are beyond the reach of most Indians.

Fears of misuse of living wills

Concerned over a likely misuse of living wills, the Supreme Court made its guidelines complex. However, in the process, the court ended up making it difficult to navigate for most people.

To make a living will legally valid, an individual would sign it before two witnesses and get it countersigned by a magistrate. If the patient later became terminally ill, the treating doctor would be required to form a board of specialists with at least 20 years of experience each, whose findings then had to go to a district magistrate, who would form a second medical board. Only after both boards agreed could the process move forward, and any disagreement meant the matter went to the regional High Court.

In 2019, the Indian Society for Critical Care Medicine, a nonprofit group of physicians, approached the Supreme Court, arguing its guidelines were unworkable. In 2023, a five-judge top court bench simplified the process, removing the requirement of a magistrate’s countersignature, reducing the minimum medical experience requirement for review boards from 20 years to five, and allowing multiple nominees instead of one.

“Decisions are being made every day, sometimes by the family members, sometimes by the doctors, sometimes because of paucity of money,” said Mudgal.

He said if the families, doctors and courts can make end-of-life decisions for an individual, why cannot the individuals make those decisions for themselves? This recognition, while respecting individual autonomy, also relieves family members from the guilt of deciding for their loved one, he added.

“If there is no meaning left in life, somebody is kept alive artificially, just beating the heart with some mechanical device, that life has no meaning,” he said.

Yet, such questions remain unanswered by law. Living wills and the right to die exist entirely through judicial interpretation. There is no parliamentary law governing the same.

“There is no framework [of parliamentary law] passed by the parliament,” Jain said. “The Supreme Court of India itself requested the government to pass legislation regarding this issue,” he added, first in 2018 and again in 2023.

But lack of a law is only one part of the challenge.

For families, the absence of palliative care means little or no guidance on what comes after treatment options run out. Even families like Piyush’s, who have access to palliative care, don’t know what comes next.

“There are many patients like this who don’t have legal awareness of passive euthanasia. Not only patients, but their doctors also do not have full awareness about palliative care,” Dr Saipriya Tewari, principal consultant and unit head of pain management and palliative care at Max Super Speciality Hospital in New Delhi, told Al Jazeera.

She said families often look confused when told there is no treatment left, and that they should take the patient home.

“What will they do after taking the patient home? Nobody tells them. It is only discussed if the palliative care doctor is involved in the treatment,” Tewari said. “And even if the end is coming, then how do we maintain dignity in time? That is the question.”

Piyush’s mother has a different question.

“If he is sick, then we have to get treatment. We have to do something to keep him alive. What should we do? We are not able to think of a way out of this. Nobody is giving us any suggestions about where to go.”

*Names changed to protect the identity of the patients and their families.

London, United Kingdom – For several weeks, until her daughter is paid, Donna O’Hara is unable to buy food. On those days, she goes to a food bank instead, or borrows money to get by.

The 54-year-old, who has four children, started relying on food banks, nonprofit initiatives that collect and provide free emergency food to those in need, after her son and his girlfriend moved out following the birth of their baby in February. They had been contributing to the household bills, and losing that income tipped things over the edge.

“Mentally, it’s just stressful and it’s embarrassing having to go to the food bank, utterly embarrassing,” she says. “I hate asking people for help. I hate borrowing money.”

The stress compounds an already precarious situation.

O’Hara has multiple myeloma, a blood cancer, and has been hospitalised three times since October on life-saving antibiotics after infections forced her to pause chemotherapy. Her cancer is in remission, but doctors have told her it is likely to return before she can resume treatment. Her husband died of lung cancer last year.

Two of her children are on Universal Credit, the UK’s main working-age welfare monthly payment, including support for housing, children and low income or unemployment.

After paying child maintenance, her son is left with 340 pounds ($460) a month to live on after the payment. He cannot work because he is waiting for gallbladder surgery.

“Who can live on 340 pounds a month?” O’Hara said. “And because I’m always helping him out, that cuts into my money.”

Her own housing benefit payment is 1,800 pounds ($2,440) a month, against rent of 2,500 pounds ($3,390) for a private property with the downstairs toilet she and her late husband both needed because of their cancer treatment. She has fallen behind, and expects to be evicted.

“The day the bailiffs come round, I must be packed and ready to go into the housing they put me in,” she said. “Who knows where I’m going to end up?”

‘Damaging structural factors’

The UK has been in an acute cost of living crisis since inflation surged from late 2021, driven initially by pandemic disruption and then by the spike in energy prices following Russia’s invasion of Ukraine.

But for households like O’Hara’s, the strain runs deeper, with its roots in more than a decade of austerity, weak wage growth and stagnant productivity, compounded by the economic impact of Brexit.

That longer history is central to Prime Minister Andy Burnham’s political pitch. To tackle the UK’s cost of living crisis, the new premier has set out a 10-year plan built around expanding social and affordable housing, reforming Universal Credit and investing in local economies.

He is currently touring the nation to engage with people’s financial concerns.

Universal Credit is meant to act as a safety net, but for many, including O’Hara, it no longer stretches far enough to cover it.

Research from the Joseph Rowntree Foundation puts scale behind stories like O’Hara’s.

“We estimate 7.4 million low-income families were unable to afford at least one essential item in the last six months,” said Sam Tims, the charity’s lead analyst, pointing to cutbacks on heating, toiletries and food. “This is at a record high.”

Tims traced the roots directly to policy choices.

“The combination of all these damaging structural factors has left our economy weaker, our wages lower, our rents higher and our income safety net in need of repair,” he said, noting that the basic rate of Universal Credit support is lower now than a decade ago.

He welcomes the removal of the two-child benefit limit in April, estimated to have lifted about half a million children out of poverty, but argues it needs to be paired with a “protected minimum floor” in Universal Credit and higher local housing allowance rates to make private rents affordable again.

Adam Lang, director of policy at Carnegie UK, says the think tank’s polling shows just more than a quarter of households could not afford an unexpected 850-pound ($1,150) expense, and one in 20 cannot afford to feed everyone at home.

“What is striking is that we’ve conducted the same survey for the last three years and we see no real improvement on most of these measures,” he said.

Lang cautiously supports Burnham’s approach, but warned against expecting a single set of measures to fix things.

“It is heartening to hear the UK government talk of a 10-year plan,” he said. “On the other hand, it is clear that life is too hard for too many and change is required.”

He argued that governments need to track wellbeing alongside growth and employment, so policymakers can see “not just how the economy is performing, but how people are doing”.

Evelyn Henderson-Child, senior researcher at the Centre for Local Economies (CLES), said that even when growth does happen, it does not reliably reach those navigating the crisis.

“GDP [Gross domestic product] can kind of swish on upwards while the foundational conditions of life, community resilience and people’s financial stability are eroded,” she said, pointing out that growth-focused policy tends to prioritise high-productivity sectors while overlooking the ones that actually sustain society and offer significant amounts of employment, such as food, retail, transport, housing and care.

The answer lies less in growth itself and more in who benefits from it, she believes.

“Traditional policy tends to rely on patching up inequality, if it does at all, after wealth is generated and concentrated at the top,” she said. “It’s about pre-distribution, rewiring the economic system from the get-go so that economic and social benefits are spread more evenly.”

But the debate over growth statistics and structural reform is of little consequence for O’Hara.

“Some people say ‘work on a budget’. Try working on a budget when you have to count your pennies just to get a loaf of bread,” she said. “It’s not my fault I got cancer and can’t go to work. Life shouldn’t be like that.”

LIAM Payne’s girlfriend Kate Cassidy has revealed that she’s ‘living her best life’ after making one change since his passing.

The social media star was in a relationship with the 1D singer before his tragic death at the age of 31 in October 2024.

In her latest TikTok video, Kate explained she was putting herself first and said: “Your best life starts when you put yourself first.”

The highlight clip included Kate being carried across a grassy field at a festival and wearing a green halter‑style outfit with a matching scarf as she posed for a selfie.

She was also seen in sunglasses with a friend at a huge gig as they partied with a crowd behind them.

Another showed Kate driving with a friend in a red convertible as they cruised down a sunny street.

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Another image showed her sitting on a huge swing with chain supports, as she leaned back with her arms outstretched.

She accompanied the video clip with the hit tune Stop The Wedding by Ashe.

Fans flocked to comment and one wrote: “Keep glowing babe.”

Another added: “I’ve been a fan for a while and I love too see you keep glowing as the time goes on.”

A third added: “You give me so much hope. May you live happy.”

This comes days after Kate hit back at trolls who accused her of abandoning the dog she shared with the singer.

The influencer and her late One Direction star boyfriend adopted their rescue pup Nala just a month before the singer’s tragic passing.

In a TikTok post, a jubilant Kate revealed she was flying off on another trip.

Sharing a video from the airport, she wrote over the top: “I’ve been flying out of town for some peace of mind.”

However, some fans wanted to know where Nala was, while she went off on her holiday.

But Kate was quick to shut down speculation she had left her dog home alone.

“Nala is literally staying with Anna everyone plzzzz,” she snapped back.

Liam tragically lost his life when he fell from the balcony of the hotel he was staying at in Argentina in 2024.

Duvetyne, or in this case the alternative spelling Duvateen, is a twill fabric with a matt finish that makes it ideal for blocking out light.

In its black fire-retardant form, it has widespread use in the film industry to ensure the right controlling effect.

In the first season of the ­original Star Trek for instance, exterior shots of space, “the final frontier”, were created by gluing glitter to it.

As you’ll discover, it was also used by The Afghan Whigs’ frontman Greg Dulli — and now it’s the name of a pivotal song on the band’s tenth studio album, Soft Control.

It is 40 years since he formed the Whigs in Cincinnati, Ohio, later moving to Seattle to become Sub Pop label mates with grunge pioneers Nirvana, Mudhoney and Soundgarden.

But Soft Control, their first LP in four years, has to be one of their most urgent, textured and captivating efforts yet.

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When he calls from America’s West Coast, it’s the first time I’ve spoken to Dulli since 2008.

He was in London then during an extended Whigs’ hiatus, promoting The Gutter Twins’ album Saturnalia, made with the late Mark Lanegan, one of the grunge movement’s defining singers both with the Screaming Trees and as a solo artist.

Lanegan died aged 57 in 2022, a year after battling a severe case of Covid at his adopted home of Killarney, Ireland. “Mark is someone I miss . . . every day,” Dulli tells me.

He returns to the subject in hand and provides a fulsome explanation of his song Duvateen.

“There was a time in my life when I put it on all my windows,” he admits. “I kept my house in permanent night, living the vampire life.

“I had a friend in the movie business so I went with her to get some. I saw what it could do for me.”

So, what DID it do for you? I venture with a degree of trepidation.

“It was decades ago and I just didn’t have any use for sunlight or for being outside,” replies Dulli, before adding with a knowing sigh, “It was clearly not a healthy time for me.”

By calling the piano-led song Duvateen, Dulli, who delivers the lyrics with white-knuckle intensity, is using it as a metaphor for the infinite void — or, if you like, ­mortality.

He admits: “The symbolic nature of it is not lost on me.”

With lyrics that span his childhood, “teacher gonna chase us down the hall”, to the grave, “dig somebody’s hole”, it encapsulates the circle of life and serves as the album’s heartbeat.

Its sound is in stark contrast to the more rock-heavy numbers, drawing this response from Dulli: “When I get a piano song like that, it’s an exciting moment in my life.

“It’s the sort of thing I could play to my mom.” As for the idea that Duvateen is the album’s centrepiece, he says: “You write songs and, as some emerge, they state their alpha-ness.

“Duvateen got my attention very quickly. It started out differently — a bit like Honky Tonk Women for a minute — but I completely changed it.

“It was one of those songs when you feel as if your hand is being guided from beyond.”

I suggest to Dulli that listening to Soft Control’s ten tracks “feels like an emotional rollercoaster”.

“Well, life in general is an emotional rollercoaster for me,” he replies. “It would stand to reason that any art I put forth would be a similar thing.”

Next the single-minded singer describes his path to the album: “We did a Covid record that came out in ’22, then we toured it for a year.

“Then I took some time off and travelled. I didn’t start working on a new record until ’25.

“But once I began writing songs again, they were happening fast and furious. I did 20, 22. Cut them down to ten. And here’s the ten.”

The result is a concise, dynamic punch of an album. “I like 40 minutes or less and I like ten as a round number,” says Dulli. “I’ve been landing on it for the past four or five records.

“They’re like a little family and sometimes they waiting for a little brother or sister to show up. I wrote the final song, Loose Talk, earlier this year.”

The album comes bursting out of the blocks with taut Jungle Roux and riff-heavy House Of I.

Elsewhere, My Lover leans into the band’s R&B credentials while stately The Deepest Part Of The Darkest Shadow serves as a companion piece to Duvateen.

There’s a song called Memphis, Texas, not as strange as you think because there is such place, along with the famous Memphis in ­Tennessee where Elvis made his name.

The album ends with A Simulation, 70 seconds of ambient beauty segueing into one of Dulli’s most tender vocals and a gorgeous string arrangement.

He calls it one of his “most existential songs”. “I get overwhelmed by injustice, sadness, and people and animals being hurt. I know I’m not the only one wondering, ‘What the f*** are we doing here?’”

But now, before we go any further, it’s time to tell Dulli’s story beginning with his teenage dream of fronting a band, inspired by a legendary psychedelic soul band.

He recalls: “I went to see The 5th Dimension. When (singer) Billy Davis Jr. took off at the end of Let the Sunshine In, it was the most electrifying thing I’d ever seen. I knew I wanted to be a lead singer.”

Having dropped out of studying film at the University Of Cincinnati and flirted with the idea of becoming an actor, Dulli formed his first band, The Black Republicans, in the mid-Eighties.

Did they find it hard to get noticed at first? I ask. “When you’re 20 years old, nothing’s hard, man,” he answers. “You’re literally immortal.

“We all had regular jobs. I drove a taxi. I cooked in a restaurant. I painted houses, put roofs on houses. I was a roadie-type guy at the big theatre in town.”

Crucial to Dulli’s trajectory was the recruitment to The Black Republicans of bassist John Curley, the only Whigs founder member still by his side today.

He says: “We would see this bearded dude at our shows. We all thought he was about 40.

“Then one night after the show, he walked up and introduced himself to me, saying, ‘I’m better than your bass player.’ John came by our rehearsal place and played his way into the band.”

Dulli describes what happened next: “I moved to Arizona for six months and wrote a bunch of songs.

“Then I came back to Cincinnati and started the Whigs with John, Rick McCollum (guitar) and Steve Earle (drums).”

He remembers the Midwestern city on the Ohio River being a “great jumping-off point” because so many towns “weren’t that far away from us”.

Dulli rattles off the places in the manner of Johnny Cash singing I’ve Been Everywhere — “Louisville, Lexington, Kentucky, Columbus, Athens, Cleveland, Toledo, Detroit Chicago, Indianapolis, St. Louis, Pittsburgh.”

But most inspirational to Dulli was a venue in Newport, Kentucky, just across the river from Cincinnati, The Jockey Club.

“Back in the day, the jazz dudes Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Sammy Davis Jr. played there,” he says.

“Then it fell into disrepair before opening again as a punk rock club. When I got to college, my roommates were deep in that scene and that’s how I got into The Jockey Club.

“I saw The Damned, Ramones, Johnny Thunders, Violent Femmes, Hüsker Dü, The Replacements, Killing Joke, so many great people.

“And everybody in the area cut their teeth there. If you were in a band, you played The Jockey Club and you played it multiple times a month.”

In 1989, the Whigs self-released debut album Big Top Halloween caught the attention of Seattle-based Sub Pop’s boss, Jonathan Poneman, who offered them a contract.

Suddenly, they were label mates with grunge pioneers Nirvana and Mudhoney — but they were a very different beast.

Dulli says: “We were outsiders in more ways than one. We were from Cincinnati and we weren’t from the Northwest.

“Our covers were R&B covers instead of Stooges’. I love The Stooges but we had bonded over The Temptations. At our first rehearsal, we played Psychedelic Shack.

“We formed in October, 1986, and played our first gig in January the following year — and I guarantee you we played Psychedelic Shack at that show.”

Dulli was also infatuated with a Midwestern powerhouse in the shape of genre-defying Minneapolis-based Prince.

“We weren’t trying to sound like Prince,” he says. “But you could grab elements of him and stick them in your quiver.”

So what was it like heading to Seattle and mixing with Kurt Cobain and Co?

“It was like seeing people our age doing cool things,” says Dulli. “When Nirvana knocked Michael Jackson off No.1 on Billboard, I thought, ‘Wow! One of our own is at the top’.

“It was an exciting time, certainly in Seattle, where we had a front-row seat to it all.

“We loved all those guys and we loved those bands, played with everybody, and got to know everybody.”

When it came to meeting his biggest buddy from the scene, Mark Lanegan, it was via a different route.

“I met Mark in Boston when the Screaming Trees, Primus and the Whigs were on the same bill but we didn’t start hanging out until around 2000.”

The Whigs enjoyed a stellar Nineties, navigating their way through the music industry “machine” on various labels but coming up with at least three first-rate albums, Congregation (1992), Gentlemen (1993) and 1965 (1998).

In 2001, frazzled Dulli decided to take a step back and the Whigs disbanded. Aside from a brief recording reunion in 2006, the ­hiatus lasted ten years.

He says: “I had absolutely no intention of being in the Whigs ever again. In my creative life, I’m so proud of the things I did during that time — The Twilight Singers and The Gutter Twins.

“But when the door opened to the Whigs again, I was a different person and ready to step through it.”

Dulli remembers the times he would pass through his home town of Cincinnati where bassist Curley and his wife were raising their two daughters. “We were all pretty cooked from the Whigs experience but John would come to the shows and would get up on stage and play with either one of my bands — and everybody loved it.”

In 2010, when Dulli was on a solo tour, Curley did his usual thing but was then persuaded to do the next night in Chicago, a five-hour drive away.

He says: “It was the first time in 11 years that anyone had seen John Curley and I on stage together outside of Cincinnati.

“When I introduced him, the ovation was so unexpectedly loud and long. That, effectively, was the catalyst for the Whigs reforming.”

Since getting back together, they have made four studio albums, Do To The Beast (2014), In Spades (2017), How Do You Burn? and the imminent Soft Control.

The current line-up is Dulli, Curley, multi-instrumentalist Rick G. Nelson, Christopher Thorn (guitars) and Bryan Lee Brown (drummer who recently replaced Patrick Keeler who tours with Jack White).

Forty years on since the Whigs formed, Dulli says: “I’m still smiling at my good fortune. Still putting out music, playing live, the whole works. I’m a lucky fella.”

He accepts that he used to be “an angry young man” but, at 61, he has found a degree of peace.

“I had an imaginary chip on my shoulder that I needed to get rid of,” he says.

“You can tame yourself but you can always go back to the wild side — just in case you need to explore.”

It’s fair to say that The Afghan Whigs’ latest album is one of his walks on the wild side.

THE AFGHAN WHIGS

Soft Control

★★★★☆

On hearing that new Prime Minister Andy Burnham will be embarking on a monthlong “cost of living” tour across the United Kingdom, one user of the social media chat platform Reddit commented: “Housing is too expensive, energy is too expensive, food is too expensive etc. There you go, Andy, I’ve saved you some fuel (very expensive).”

Like much of the world, the UK is grappling with the rising cost of living. The Bank of England expects inflation to climb further in the second half of the year as the fallout from the United States-Israel war on Iran pushes up energy prices and household bills.

How high is inflation in the UK? Who is hardest hit? And how does it compare with other countries?

How high is inflation in the UK?

The annual rate of inflation in June was 2.8 percent, down from 3 percent in May. That means prices are still rising, but they are going up a bit more slowly than they were earlier in the year. In practical terms, if something cost 100 pounds (about $135) in June last year, that same item now costs 102.80 pounds ($138.65).

Before the US and Israel attacked Iran on February 28, the Bank of England had forecast that inflation as measured by the Consumer Prices Index (CPI) would fall from 3.4 percent in 2025 to 2.3 percent in 2026. Instead, inflation was again 3.4 percent in March this year, largely driven by higher fuel and heating costs.

Petrol and diesel up more than 20 percent

The closure of the Strait of Hormuz, a route for about one-fifth of the world’s oil and liquefied natural gas (LNG) supplies, has pushed up the cost of petrol, transport, food and other goods.

Petrol prices in the UK have hit a three-and-a-half- year high. According to data from the RAC Foundation, the price of petrol and diesel rose by 22 percent and 27 percent, respectively, between February 25 and August 11.

The average price of a litre (about a quarter of a gallon) of petrol increased from 1.32 pounds ($1.78) to 1.61 pounds ($2.17) while diesel rose from 1.42 pounds ($1.92) to 1.81 pounds ($2.44) per litre.

Who is being hardest hit?

Not every household feels inflation in the same way. For the average UK household, about 677 pounds ($914) is spent each week on goods and services with some of the biggest costs being housing, fuel and power, transport, food and recreation.

The impact is much greater for households on lower incomes. The Office for National Statistics (ONS) found that the poorest 20 percent of households spent an average of 407 pounds ($549) a week compared with 1,084 pounds ($1,462) for the richest 20 percent of households. Proportionally, the poorer households will feel the rise in prices more keenly.

That’s because the difference is particularly important when prices are rising. Someone spending a larger portion of their income on rent, energy, food and transport has far less of a cushion to absorb any increase in those costs.

According to the Joseph Rowntree Foundation, a charity that conducts and funds research aimed at fighting poverty in the UK, the cost of living crisis is widespread with 7.4 million low-income families unable to afford essential items this year – the highest since 2021 when its cost-of-living tracker began.

Is the UK worse off than other Western countries?

The UK’s 2.8 percent inflation rate in June puts it in the middle of the other Group of Seven  advanced-industrial democracies: Canada, France, Germany, Italy, Japan and the US.

The US has the highest inflation rate at 3.5 percent, followed by Italy (3 percent), Canada (2.8 percent), the UK (2.8 percent), Germany (2.3 percent), France (1.8 percent) and Japan (1.7 percent).

Countries have different exposures to inflation through energy prices, wage pressures and government policies. For the UK, inflation is primarily being driven by the energy triggered by conflict in the Middle East; services inflation, which in June was 3.6 percent, driven by higher costs at restaurants and hotels; and slowing wage growth.

Wages barely keeping up

For Britons, the weekly food shop is still more expensive than it was a year ago, but the latest figures show that food price inflation has slowed. This doesn’t mean prices are falling, of course – just not rising so quickly.

According to the ONS, food and nonalcoholic drink prices were 1.7 percent higher in June than a year earlier, down from 2.2 percent higher in May.

There could be more pressure ahead as the Bank of England says food prices are likely to be affected by higher energy costs affecting the production and transport costs of food. It predicts that food inflation will rise to nearly 3.5 percent by December while supermarkets have said they expect food inflation of 4 to 5 percent by the end of the year.

Weekly regular real earnings, which measure workers’ standard pay adjusted for inflation, have also dipped in recent months, from about 0.4 percent at the start of the year to 0.1 percent after the Iran war began, again making it harder for people to afford price rises.

In the grand buffet of problems explaining President Trump’s abysmal approval ratings, reserve a tray for Mexican food.

Americans are rightfully frustrated with the myriad consequences of the war with Iran he plunged us into, the rising cost of living, his pharaonic obsession with monuments to himself and his overall doddering state of mind.

But as this president afflicts the country with a prolonged civic bout of Montezuma’s Revenge, Mexican food’s role in the overall mess Trump has left us with is notable.

One of this country’s most popular cuisines has inadvertently spent this summer embarrassing Trump in fundamental ways — and I’m not just talking about TACO, the acronym referring to how Trump Always Chickens Out on his most bombastic claims and threats. The most prominent — and disgusting — example has been outbreak of foodborne illness traced back to popular Mexican restaurant chains that have sickened tens of thousands of Americans while Trump has shrugged and effectively told us to eat frijoles.

The Food and Drug administration traced an outbreak of cyclosporiasis, a parasite-born intestinal disease, to contaminated lettuce grown in Mexico by Salinas-based Taylor Fresh Foods that made its way to Taco Bell. The world’s biggest Mexican fast food chain quickly put out a statement that it removed all suspected lettuce from its restaurants and that “we encourage all relevant restaurants, retailers, and foodservice operators to do the same.”

If only the Trump administration was as proactive in caring for the well-being of Americans as the creators of Doritos Locos tacos and Crunchwrap Supremes.

It turned out that the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s Foodborne Diseases Active Surveillance Network told state inspectors last year that they were no longer required to report to the agency any instances of the parasite that causes cyclosporiasis they found in this country’s food supply. This was part of massive cutbacks at the CDC that reduced its staff by a quarter and cut billions of dollars in funding.

When reporters confronted Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. with these facts, he responded that such criticisms were “invalid” and that the cyclosporiasis outbreak was “under control.”

Make America Healthy Again? More like Make Americans Heave Always.

A bean and cheese burrito with green chile sauce at Al & Bea’s in Boyle Heights.

(Kirk McKoy/Los Angeles Times)

On Aug. 4, the Food and Drug Administration revealed that a salmonella outbreak traced back to contaminated jalapeños imported from Mexico had left hundreds of Americans sick. But the feds were two weeks late to the news: By July 20, Chipotle had already removed all suspected jalapeños from its stores. Unlike the Trump administration, it had invested in food-safety tracking that quickly spotted the problem, a system implemented after the company suffered hundreds of millions of dollars in sales losses and a $25-million federal fine last decade due to repeated foodborne illnesses originating in its stores.

I’m no fan of Chipotle’s underwhelming hipster vibe or Taco Bell’s over-salted options, but they know what the Trump administration seems to not understand: Americans deserve to eat without worrying about whether they’ll get ill as a result. And they also know Americans especially like Mexican food, a cuisine dependent on exported produce that is now more expensive than ever because of Trump’s misguided tariffs and overall bellicosity to our Latin America trading partners.

You would think Trump himself would know: Remember the infamous photo he posted on Cinco de Mayo during his first term of him smiling at his desk appearing ready to chow down on a giant taco salad bowl?

Which leads to the second section of Trump’s combo plate of bad Mexican food news this year. On the same day the FDA belatedly disclosed the jalapeño salmonella outbreak, Turning Point USA spokesperson Andrew Kolvet posted on social media that a college student complained to him that “a burrito shouldn’t cost $20.” Kolvet correctly pointed out that many people currently feel the cost of living is too high, and rightfully suggested that Republican Party leaders should sympathize with such concerns lest they lose even more voters that they already have during Trump’s second term.

Instead, Trump toadies from Vice President JD Vance to Rep. Dan Crenshaw urged young people to eat instant ramen and live frugally instead of splurge on burritos. That provoked other conservative activists to smack down the MAGA Men for showing how out of touch they are with how expensive everything is right now.

Forget the Consumer Price Index: The cost of a burrito is the best way to judge how much the cost of living actually is. I haven’t regularly bought them for years because they’re just not worth it anymore.

A delicious, slender bean-and-cheese burrito with no sauce at the venerable Al & Bea’s in Boyle Heights is going for six bucks and change right now when it was about $2 cheaper two years ago. The gargantuan breakfast burritos at my favorite place to get one, Athenian III in Buena Park, run about $13. Even my go-to fast-food treat, a half-pound Del Taco bean-and-cheese burrito, costs $2.61 with tax at the closest location to my house.

Remember when they were about a dollar? I do.

As someone whose wife runs a restaurant, I don’t blame businesses for hiking their prices; I blame Trump. He campaigned two years ago on stopping and reversing the runaway inflation that was happening toward the end of the Biden administration and won over a lot of Mexican Americans as a result. But when those voters can’t even enjoy a carne asada burrito for lunch without thinking about whether they’ll have enough money for the rest of the week, that should worry Trump and his team as the November midterms approach.

That they’re collectively still blaming Biden shows how pendejos they are at best, and uncaring at worst.

Back to that 2016 Cinco de Mayo photo of himself enjoying a taco salad sold at his Trump Hotel in Manhattan. It was peak Trump: daring opponents to call him out for appropriating a hallmark of Cal-Mex dining while thinking Americans would see the move as a metaphor for the bounties of riches and good times Trump would usher in for this country.

A decade later, Trump just makes too many Americans want to run to the proverbial toilet and barf from all the slop he and his minions have cooked up for our country.

From the bus window, the ridge looks like a giant slumbering beast stretched deep green across the flat farmland. “It feels alive,” I say to the woman beside me. “Yes,” she answers. “It is where you would run for safety, don’t you think?”

I am in southern Sweden to explore Söderåsen national park, established in 2001 to protect more than 1,600 hectares (4,000 acres) of the larger Söderåsen ridgeline. Shaped over millennia by immense geological collisions, fractures, volcanic eruptions and ice ages, today it is one of northern Europe’s largest continuous protected broadleaf forests, and only 90 minutes by car from Copenhagen or, in my case, two hours by public transport.

The little village of Röstånga at the gateway to the park is where travellers stop for supplies from the supermarket before disappearing into the forest on foot, bike or horseback, and people gather for food, live music and art.

My room for the first night is in Villa Söderåsen, a grand timber-framed yellow and white guesthouse, which has stood at the park’s entrance since 1904. It was built for tourists arriving via the new railway in search of connection to nature. Sebastian and Åsa, the owners, want to continue that tradition. “We humans are as loud as elephants in the wood,” says Sebastian. “Sit quietly for half an hour and see what happens.”

That evening, I eat with strangers at long wooden tables outside the hip restaurant and live music venue Stationen. Music drifts out of open doors, adults chat around the fire, children run circles around us.

The next morning, Åsa recommends I take a dip in Odensjön (Odin’s Eye) Lake. “Some say it is bottomless,” she says. It’s almost perfectly round, edged by steep beech-covered slopes, and fed by underground springs. Fifteen minutes into the forest and I am there.

A woman making her way back to the village says: “There is a rock in the water, heated by the sun, sit there, let your body adjust.”

Grasshoppers trill, spider silk trails from branches, noble chafer beetles glimmer like the aurora borealis, a dragonfly rests electric-blue on my now empty walking boots. I swim, the circle of blue sky rippling, and emerge ready for anything.

A few years ago, scientists obtained a sediment core from the bottom of the lake, providing detailed information from the past 600 years of land-use history. This showed that in the 18th and 19th centuries the plateau was largely deforested. I would have been walking across a heath, repeatedly burned to improve grazing grounds. It is difficult to imagine as I move through endless layers of beech, interspersed at times with birch, oak and rowan, mossy trunks, roots like octopuses.

Once I start searching, the signs of human history are everywhere too, from hollow ways to clearance cairns and dry-stone walls.

Two hours of hiking later, I arrive at the second entrance to the park: Skäralid, a rift valley. The visitor centre Naturum, packed with information and playful exhibits, shares its premises with Café Italia. Both look out onto a picturesque dam. A ranger explains that much of the initial conservation efforts since designation as a national park involved the felling of non-native Norway spruce and the planting of broadleaved trees in its stead.

In search of solitude, I choose the wilder three-hour Hjortsprångsrundan or Deer Leap circular, a trail named after a prehistoric hunting method where people drove game over a narrow cliff shelf. I pick my way along it, across heather and bilberry, to perch on the hard gneiss bedrock that blushes a startling mineral pink. A buzzard swoops down from the branch of a gnarled oak.

The descent is like scrambling and slipping back through time into an entirely other world. Many of these slopes managed to escape the historical land clearances and thus are the closest to ancient woodland. But all around this area, ferns, lichen, fungi, seeds and spores are recolonising the land.

The scree slopes are dotted with springs pushed up from a subterranean lake and laced with streams that feed into the Skärån river. The scent in the bottom of the valley is heady, sweet and damp, bringing with it a keen awareness of how much is always happening just out of sight.

I rest on a wooden walkway, pop a wild raspberry in my mouth and watch a slowworm the length of my forearm slither past. Then, a sudden crashing through undergrowth. Wolf? Wild boar? Moose? A young stag steps from a pocket of alder trees, pawing the ground. We look at one another. The sun drops, and as it does its light rises up the walls of the ravine.

My room for the second night is in Söderåsens Skafferi, a vandrarhem, or wanderer’s home. The house glows like a lantern on the edge of the dark wood. The owner Elisabeth, who spent her childhood exploring Söderåsen on horseback, says the house was once the first nature school in Sweden.

On my final morning I climb to Kopparhatten, the park’s highest viewpoint at 212 metres, and hold up a booklet with an image of a painting from 1840 of this same vista, almost bare of trees. “We used to holiday in the south,” a couple tell me. “But we’re searching for cooler climates now.” I wonder what stories they will bring home.

Summer, all green infusion; autumn, rust and gold; winter, snow and stone; spring, wood anemones and paper-thin leaves. The national park feels like living proof that damaged landscapes can recover if nature, and humans, are given half a chance.

Accommodation was provided by Villa Söderåsen (doubles from 1,095 Swedish Kronor, about £85, B&B). Coco also stayed at Söderåsens Skafferi (doubles from around £78). Söderåsen national park has multiple wild campsites with wind shelters and barbecue areas. For information on public transport access, visit skanetrafiken.se

Grace Adama puts on her earrings in her two-room flat in Abuja before grabbing her handbag and heading to work.

The health NGO worker earns 135,000 naira ($99) a month, nearly twice Nigeria’s minimum wage. Yet she says her income now disappears within days as the cost of housing, electricity and food continues to rise.

“If I’m paid today, my salary stays with me just for one week,” she told Reuters. “If you see the cost of living, house, electricity, everything has gone up.”

Adama’s experience reflects a wider cost-of-living crisis confronting millions of Nigerians as the country approaches elections. Living standards have deteriorated sharply since President Bola Tinubu introduced a series of sweeping economic reforms, including the removal of fuel subsidies, the devaluation of the naira and reductions in electricity subsidies.

The government and investors argue that the reforms were necessary to prevent a deeper fiscal crisis and put Africa’s largest oil producer on a more sustainable economic path.

But for many ordinary Nigerians, the promised benefits have yet to materialise.

The cost of preparing the country’s staple jollof rice has more than doubled since Tinubu took office, according to Lagos-based SBM Intelligence. Petrol prices, meanwhile, have risen roughly sixfold following the removal of subsidies, the weakening of the naira and higher global oil prices.

With elections approaching in January, Tinubu faces the difficult task of convincing voters that the economic pain they have endured will eventually translate into better living standards.

NIGERIANS FEEL THE PAIN AS INVESTORS CHEER

The contrast between economic indicators and everyday life has become increasingly striking.

The World Bank estimates that just over half of Nigeria’s population lived in poverty last year, compared with roughly 42% in 2022.

Some Nigerians have responded to the rising costs by cutting household spending, moving to cheaper accommodation and relying on loans to cover basic expenses.

Adama said she had stopped buying meat regularly, moved to a smaller apartment and was still forced to take short-term loans to pay her bills. She also said she could no longer send money to her elderly mother in Benue state as she had done previously.

“I can’t even send money to my aged mother at home,” she said. “I can’t do a lot of things that I used to do before.”

Yet investors have taken a markedly more positive view of Nigeria’s economic direction.

“This is the most positive investors have been about Nigeria probably in the last two decades,” said Thys Louw, a portfolio manager at Ninety One. “They’re taking the tough medicine now.”

That divergence creates a major political challenge for Tinubu. Financial markets can respond positively to reforms long before their benefits reach households, while voters tend to judge governments according to the immediate cost of food, transport, housing and electricity.

Tinubu has been nicknamed “T-Pain” by some Nigerians frustrated by the rising cost of living.

REFORMS AIM TO END YEARS OF ECONOMIC DISTORTIONS

Tinubu inherited an economy burdened by years of policies that had created significant distortions.

Under former President Muhammadu Buhari, the government maintained petrol subsidies, imposed import restrictions and operated tight currency controls. While those measures were intended to protect consumers and encourage domestic production, they also contributed to shortages, foreign-exchange difficulties and growing pressure on government finances.

Fuel subsidies alone cost the government around $10 billion in 2022.

“We were living in fiscal illusions,” Finance Minister Taiwo Oyedele said at a recent event in Abuja. “We needed to stop deceiving ourselves so the country can move forward.”

Tinubu’s government therefore moved quickly after taking office to dismantle several of those policies.

The removal of fuel subsidies immediately pushed up transportation and living costs. Currency reforms also caused the naira to lose significant value, increasing the cost of imported goods.

The government argues that these measures were unavoidable and that rebuilding the economy requires accepting short-term pain.

There are signs of progress.

Nigeria’s stock market has risen close to 60% this year. Capital inflows reached a six-year high of $23 billion last year, while the opening of the 650,000-barrel-per-day Dangote refinery has created hopes that domestic refining will eventually reduce the country’s dependence on imported petroleum products.

The government has also pointed to increased investment in domestic oil assets as evidence that its reforms are attracting capital.

But those improvements have not necessarily translated into better household finances.

A BOOMING STOCK MARKET, BUT FEW CAN INVEST

Nigeria’s financial markets have benefited significantly from renewed investor confidence.

However, fewer than 5% of Nigerian adults invest in capital markets, according to the Nigerian stock exchange.

Much of the recent capital inflow has also been concentrated in short-term financial instruments such as Treasury bills, allowing foreign investors to quickly withdraw their money if economic conditions deteriorate.

For ordinary Nigerians, borrowing remains extremely expensive.

The central bank’s key interest rate stands at 26.5% as policymakers attempt to control inflation, which remains close to 16%.

That makes it difficult for businesses to expand and for households to access affordable credit.

At the same time, petrol prices average roughly 1,600 naira ($1.18) per litre nationally. Although that is lower than prices in neighbouring Ghana and Ivory Coast, it remains prohibitively expensive for many Nigerians who had become accustomed to subsidised fuel.

“The solution for me is for government to bring the fuel price down,” said Lagos food seller Eji Uchenna.

She said customers who once purchased food in bulk can no longer afford to do so.

POLITICAL PRESSURE BUILDS

The economic pressure is increasingly becoming a political issue.

In June, federal workers rejected a proposed 100,000-naira minimum wage and threatened an indefinite nationwide strike.

A June voter sentiment tracker by SBM Intelligence found that 80% of Nigerians believed the country was moving in the wrong direction.

Economic hardship is not the only concern. Security, particularly widespread kidnapping, remains a major issue for voters.

Yet widespread dissatisfaction does not necessarily mean Tinubu is vulnerable at the ballot box.

Nigeria’s opposition remains fragmented, reducing the likelihood that dissatisfaction will automatically translate into a coordinated electoral challenge.

“The opposition is disunited, and… the only way the opposition beats Tinubu is if they are united,” said Cheta Nwanze, chief executive of SBM Intelligence.

That gives Tinubu some political space to continue pursuing his economic programme despite the public backlash.

THE TEST IS WHETHER GROWTH REACHES HOUSEHOLDS

Investors remain optimistic that the reforms will eventually produce stronger economic growth, lower inflation and greater investment.

Louw said that if the government maintains its policies, workers could begin to benefit as inflation falls and interest rates decline.

But the transition remains painful, and the government faces growing pressure to ensure that economic gains are not concentrated among investors and businesses while ordinary households continue to struggle.

The central challenge is therefore no longer simply whether Nigeria’s reforms are economically necessary. It is whether the government can make those reforms politically and socially sustainable.

Tinubu must demonstrate that the sacrifices demanded from Nigerians are producing tangible improvements in their daily lives before voters head to the polls.

Finance Minister Oyedele acknowledged that the government must do more to ensure that economic recovery translates into broader prosperity.

“When inequality persists, it becomes dangerous,” he said. “It’s like sitting on gunpowder; it explodes.”

For Nigeria, the coming election will therefore offer a test not only of Tinubu’s political standing but of whether a painful programme of economic reform can deliver benefits quickly enough for ordinary citizens to believe in it.

With information from Reuters.