Garbage into gold

New technology offers ever more ingenious ways to turn the detritus of life into valuable forms of e

Digestion? Composting? Steaming? After years of it being seen literally as waste, in the past few years industry is finally waking up to the potential of our rubbish. "We're looking at a kind of industrial revolution," says Richard Kirkman, head of technology for Veolia Environmental Services. "We're making factories to make raw materials from waste, to put those materials back in the economic cycle. That's our business model."

One of the most interesting prospects in waste disposal is anaerobic digestion (AD), which is suitable for easily bio­degradable matter. Waste is sealed in oxygen-free and bacteria-rich conditions where it is digested. The end product is methane, which can be used in gas-fired power stations or fed into the gas supply, and a rich organic fertiliser for use in agriculture. AD is, essentially, hi-tech composting, needing only half the space and a third of the time to complete the process.

One government report suggests that by 2020, AD-derived biogas could, through electricity generation and domestic gas supply, account for 10-20TWh of the UK's heat and power. At the upper end of the scale, that equates to 7.5 per cent of predicted demand.

A £32m New Technologies Demon­strator Programme, launched by the ­Department for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs (Defra), is also investing in a range of new ideas to help lessen the waste mountain. In-vessel composting, for example, is simply industrial-scale composting performed in a controlled environment, with the air flow and ambient temperature adjusted to sanitise waste and guarantee the quality of the final product.

Gasification and pyrolysis also have exciting potential. In the former, carbon-rich waste is heated in the presence of oxygen to break down hydrocarbons to form a biogas. Pyrolysis is achieved without oxygen to achieve a biogas with a different composition. In the days before North Sea gas, coals were subject to the same procedure in order to make fuel. The technology is not new, but the idea of using it for municipal waste is only just beginning to catch on.

Finally, mechanical heat treatment, used as a precursor to other forms of processing, is also being investigated. Piles of waste are steam-heated, sterilising the contents and reducing them to more manageable forms. Paper and card, for example, are reduced to a fluffy mass for further processing, and labels and lacquers are steamed off glass and metal, leaving them ready for reuse or recycling.

For Kirkman and Veolia, the next stage is to remove "the human interface" in material-recovery facilities. He says: "At the moment we have people picking stuff up off conveyor belts.

“In the same way that cars used to be made by people and now they're made by robots, it's within our capability to make a sorting centre without people touching anything."

Control-centre-based touch screens ­allow a human operator to instruct a robot to move materials, or an infra-red "magic eye" identifies different types of plastic and uses a jet of compressed air to shoot an items into relevant bins.

But in the end, as Steve Lee, chair of the anaerobic digestion task group and chief executive of the Chartered Institution
of Wastes Management, points out: "We still talk about waste management as something inevitable. What about waste prevention?

“We've been living an uncontrolled party for the past 50 years and one day historians will look back on this era agog. We understand materials and our responsibility towards them much better now, so we need to start talking about how we can design out waste completely."

Sarah Lewis-Hammond is an award-winning environmental journalist

Good Riddance to Rubbish

Poo into power
Faeces, animal or human, make great biogas. Just pop the poop in a methane digester and two weeks later out come fertiliser and methane. Thames Water says it saved £15m and powered 14 per cent of its operations this way in 2008.
Hydrogen from pee
Researchers at Ohio University have found that hydrogen atoms in urea are more loosely bonded than those in water, so electrolysis easier and cheaper.
People power
Systems are popping up, from the Japanese railway generating electricity from the vibrations of passengers going through ticket barriers, to
the London nightclub dance floor that turns kinetic energy into electricity.
Tornado power
The Canadian engineer Louis Michaud claims that warm air lost from power stations could be used to create intense vortices, inside which wind turbines would utilise the 200mph tornadoes.

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An English hero for the ages: Ian Botham at 60

Botham blends his sportsmanship and deep-seated passion for cricket with a lust for life.

Begging W H Auden’s pardon, it is possible both to honour and to value the vertical man, and in the case of Ian Botham, who turned 60 on 24 November, it is our bounden duty. No sportsman has given Britons so much to enjoy in the past half-century and no sportsman is loved more. Two decades after he retired from first-class cricket, his reputation as one of life’s champions remains unassailable.

No mere cricketer is he, either. Botham is a philanthropist, having raised more than £12m for various charities, notably Leukaemia and Lymphoma Research. In December, 30 years after his first walk from John o’Groats to Land’s End, he will set off again, in South Africa, where England are on tour. And he really does walk, too, not amble. As somebody who accompanied him on one of his dozen walks said: “You can’t keep up with him. The man is a phenomenon.”

Of all postwar sportsmen, only Bobby Charlton and, at a pinch, Henry Cooper come close to matching Botham’s enduring popularity. But Charlton, a shy man who was scarred by the Munich plane crash of 1958 (and may never have recovered from its emotional effects), has never comfortably occupied a public stage; and Cooper, being a boxer, had a solitary role. Botham, by contrast, spoke for England. Whenever he picked up his bat, or had a ball in his hand, he left spectators in no doubt.

Others have also spoken for England. Bobby Moore and Martin Johnson, captains respectively of England’s World Cup-winning football and rugby teams, were great players but did not reach out to people as naturally as Botham. Nick Faldo, Lester Piggott, Sebastian Coe and, to bring us up to date, Lewis Hamilton have beaten the best in the world, but they lacked those qualities that Botham displayed so freely. That is not to mark them down. They were, and are, champions. But Botham was born under a different star.

It was John Arlott, the great cricket commentator, who first spotted his uniqueness. Covering a match at Taunton in 1974, he asked the young colt to carry his bags up the rickety staircase to the press box, where Arlott, wearing his oenophile’s hat, pulled out a bottle of red wine and invited Botham to drink. Forty years later Botham is a discriminating wine drinker – and maker. Along with his friend and fellow England great Bob Willis, and their Australian wine­making pal Geoff Merrill, he has put his name to a notable Shiraz, “BMW”.

Arlott, with his nose for talent and good company, saw something in the young Botham that Brian Close, his captain at Somerset, was beginning to bring out. Later, Mike Brearley, as England captain, drew out something even more remarkable. As Rodgers and Hammerstein wrote, you’ve got to be carefully taught. And Botham, a fine team man as well as a supreme individual performer, has never withheld praise from those who enabled him to find his voice.

If sport reveals character, then cricket is the game that reveals it most clearly. In no other sport is the individual performance rooted so firmly in a team context. Every over brings a contest of skill and intelligence between batsman and bowler but only a team can win the match. “A cricketer,” as Arlott said, “is showing you something of himself all the time.”

Cricket also reveals national character more than any other sport. Football may be the most popular game in the world but cricket, and cricketers, tell us far more about England and Englishness. It is instructive, in this regard, to hear what Philippe Auclair, a French journalist and author long resident in London, has to say about Botham: “He is essentially an 18th-century Englishman.” In one! It’s not difficult to sense a kinship with Tom Jones, Fielding’s embodiment of 18th-century life, who began his journey, as readers may recall, in Somerset.

A country boy who played for Worcestershire after leaving Somerset, and who lives by choice in North Yorkshire, Botham is an old-fashioned Englishman. Although nobody has yet found him listening to the parson’s sermon, he is conservative with a small and upper-case C, a robust monarchist, handy with rod and gun, and happiest with a beaker in front of him. He represents (though he would never claim to be a representative) all those people who understand instinctively what England means, not in a narrow way, but through something that is in the blood.

Above all, he will be remembered for ever as the hero of 1981. Even now it takes some believing that Botham bowled and batted with such striking success that the Australians, who were one up after two Tests, were crushed. Some of us who were actually at Headingley for the famous third Test – thousands who claim to have been there were not – recall the odds of 500-1 on an England victory going up on the electronic scoreboard that Saturday evening.

Botham made 149 not out as England, following on, beat the Aussies by 18 runs. For three hours the country seemed to stop. In the next Test, at Edgbaston, Botham took five wickets for one run as Australia fell under his spell. Then, at Old Trafford, on a dank Saturday afternoon, he played the most memorable innings of his life and one of the greatest innings ever played by an Englishman: 118 magnificent, joyful runs. Joy: that’s the word. Botham brought joy into people’s lives.

Yet it was the final Test at the Oval, which ended in a draw, that brought from him a performance no less remarkable than those from before. He bowled 89 overs in that match, flat out, continuing to run in when others withdrew with injury. That was the team man coming to the fore. Little wonder his comrades thought the world of him.

Modest, loyal, respectful to opponents, grateful to all who have lent him a hand, and supported throughout a turbulent life by Kath, his rock of a wife, and their three children, this is a cricketing hero to rank with W G Grace, Jack Hobbs, Wally Hammond and Fred Trueman. A feature in the lives of all who saw him, and a very English hero. 

This article first appeared in the 26 November 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Terror vs the State