Solvej Balle's day without end

Photo by Judit Nilsson / SvD / TT
Tara Selter runs an antiquarian books business with her husband, Thomas. They live on the outskirts of a town in northern France, although Tara often travels to book fairs here and there, as she has done – to one in Bordeaux – when her life changes. On her way home she stops in Paris to collect some books for clients. She checks in to a hotel on the evening of 17 November, keeps numerous appointments on the 18th, burns her hand while spending the evening with friends and calls Thomas from her room before going to sleep.
But the newspaper she picks up at breakfast the next day is dated the 18th. A simple mistake, she thinks, until someone in the dining room drops a slice of bread and hesitates over what to do with it, just as she watched him do the day before. She checks other newspapers at a kiosk; withdraws cash and studies the receipt; calls her husband, who doesn't remember the previous night's conversation. She still has the burn, but everything else she did on the 18th, including the purchasing of books, which she finds back on the shelves of the shops where she bought them, has been reset. For Tara, the 18th of November is happening again.
In fact On the Calculation of Volume begins on Tara's 121st 18 November, which enables her journal entries to recount her outlandish situation with a degree of calmness and clarity (these, as becomes clear, not being the same as acceptance or understanding). By this point she has returned home – while the date resets at some point in the night, physically she remains wherever she has travelled to – and is living secretly in the spare room of her house. She knows each of her husband's movements, when he will go out and return home, when he will make a noise that will mask her own, and so can inhabit the day like a ghost, keeping her journal and working on theories while remaining unseen and unheard.
Solvej Balle herself has been largely unseen and unheard since stunning literary Denmark with her 1993 story collection According to the Law. She downplays accounts of reclusiveness, protesting that all she did was leave Copenhagen. But On the Calculation of Volume nevertheless represents an extraordinary late-career success: the first five self-published books (with two to come) became a sensation in Denmark, the first three together winning the 2022 Nordic Council Literature Prize, and attracting publishers around the world. In the UK Faber & Faber has published the first two books simultaneously (translated by Barbara J Haveland), with the third following in November. The first has been shortlisted for the International Booker Prize.
When we meet Tara she is keeping herself apart, but there was an earlier time when she would tell Thomas, every morning, what had happened to her, convincing him with her uncanny knowledge of the day ahead:
' I could tell him when the rain would stop and when it would start again, I could tell him that the postman would come by at 10.41 during a light shower, I could describe how soon after that a long-tailed titmouse would flit about the branches of the apple tree, and I could predict that at 5.14 in the afternoon, in the pouring rain, our neighbour would hurry past the fence at the bottom of our back garden, turn right and jog down the path between our house and his own.'
Together they discuss what has happened, formulate possible solutions, and carry out experiments. But as time goes on, or in Tara's case doesn't, she tires of having to explain things anew each day. She is also disappointed by Thomas's refusal to accompany her to Paris, thinking the door leading out of this loop in time must be located where she entered it.
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The first two books of Balle's project achieve a compelling balance of action and thought. Tara thinks a lot but also does while she thinks. As well as being good at this, Balle is also preternaturally gifted at answering questions just as they start to form in a reader's mind. The first that occurs concerns how Tara got from Paris to Clairon-sous-Bois (those indoctrinated by the Harold Ramis film Groundhog Day might expect her to return to the same place each time she wakes). She cannot move in time, but she can move in space. This opens fields of possibility. One of the dominant episodes in the second book involves a scheme to manufacture a year by travelling to different latitudes: following a chance meeting with a meteorologist she travels to Sweden and Norway for winter, Cornwall for spring, southern Spain for summer. If there's a kind of madness to the idea, it's a madness that helps keep her sane. As for all these different climates coexisting on a single autumn day, it's a great advert for the Schengen Area.
Another involving subplot concerns what Tara can hang on to versus what disappears when time resets. Through experiment she learns the rules are knowable but not immutable:
'We bought things and left them lying in the kitchen. We opened them or left them unopened. We observed and we kept notes. Usually, the items that we hadn't opened disappeared during the night and went back to where we had bought them. We took things up to the bedroom with us at night, I bought a jar of olives and placed it on the windowsill, I put a toothbrush, unopened and still in its box, under my pillow. The following morning the toothbrush was still there, box and all, but the jar of olives was gone and a packet of tea which Thomas had put in a kitchen cabinet had also vanished.'
Tara adapts her behaviours as she becomes more familiar with what is and isn't possible. If she wants to keep a new dress she must wear it immediately, with nothing underneath, to 'train' it to stay with her. She also learns that the food she consumes stays consumed. If she goes to a café and orders the same dish several days in a row, eventually that dish disappears from the menu. She finds this fact deeply disturbing. It makes her 'a monster in a finite world'.
One of the most impressive things about Balle's project is the care she has taken in thinking about Tara's predicament both practically and philosophically, and the sedulousness with which she explores it. The book Thomas is (repeatedly) reading in Clairon-sous-Bois is called Lucid Investigations, the title of which works for Balle's novel, too: even when the logic becomes head-spinning, the prose maintains its methodical, elegant pace. And while individuals might differ from Tara in their priorities (I imagine some would consider a fling earlier than day 578), her situation says something universal and profound about loneliness and depression, as well as the monotony that characterises certain stretches of our lives.
By the close of book two, three years have passed and Tara is in Düsseldorf, where she seems to have a pretty nice time. She squats in an old architect's studio, spends days reading in cafés, watches a local football team win promotion (actually impossible in Germany in November) and attends university lectures. She knows she is privileged, 'that my cage is gilded', but on the final page its bars are rattled: the next 18 November, it seems, will be very different from the last.
On the Calculation of Volume
Solvej Balle, translated by Barbara J Haveland
Faber & Faber, 192pp, £12.99
Purchasing a book may earn the NS a commission from Bookshop.org, who support independent bookshops
[See also: The second birth of JMW Turner]
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This article appears in the 30 Apr 2025 issue of the New Statesman, The War on Whitehall

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Times

14-06-2025

• Times

My friend Pippa — who used to be one of Britain's best male cyclists

We sit at an outside table at Le Patio restaurant on Rue de la République in Albertville, a town in southeast France. A typical après-Tour evening. Earlier that afternoon we'd watched the Tour de France play out on the Col de la Loze. Like many mountain days this one was titanic, with Miguel Ángel López of Colombia powering his way to a stage win. Now Pippa and I are having dinner, comparing our impressions of what we'd seen. Idyllic, you might have said. Except that things are rarely perfect. This is 2020. Covid is still raging. So much so that the Tour had been moved from its July home to an August-September rental. We came to the race wearing masks, wondering if this annual pilgrimage was a good idea. President Macron took a different view, saying France should get back to the life it had before the virus. What better expression of French normality than the Tour. We're at a table for two. Six or seven metres to our right are another couple. The man strikes up conversation. 'You're David Walsh,' he says. 'I read your book, the one about Lance Armstrong.' Any stranger offering this entrée finds an open door and soon this one is telling us his life story. His name is Thomas. He's from Germany. Mid-fifties, I'm guessing. He was once an elite amateur cyclist and says he would have done better if he'd been prepared to dope. After that he coached an under-23 squad. He was now on a bike holiday in the Alps, riding two or three mountain passes each day. Thomas speaks English well and is eating with a female companion. Once he gets talking cycling, there is no slowing him. His friend sits quietly, as if she's been here before and is fine with temporary exclusion. Reasonably interesting at first, Thomas soon makes us wish we'd sat at the other end of the restaurant. His companion winces when he orders a second bottle of wine. We listen with diminishing patience. Thomas can't see beyond Thomas. Doesn't appreciate that his bike career wasn't exactly stellar and doesn't pay any attention to the woman at my table. Pippa was once a great cyclist. Pippa had a career. Pippa rode the Tour de France 11 times and was one of the great climbers. Pippa even won the polka-dot jersey: in 1984, she was King of the Mountains. During the briefest pause, I mouth a silent question to Pippa. 'Is it OK to tell him who you are?' 'If you want,' she says. I turn to Thomas. 'I'm surprised you don't recognise Pippa.' Confused, he focuses on Pippa for the first time. As he flounders, I bring up Pippa's Wikipedia page on my iPhone and stretch it towards him. It begins: 'Philippa York (born Robert Millar on 13 September 1958) is a Scottish journalist and former professional road racing cyclist.' Thomas's expression conveys horror, as if he's discovered something that is broken and has to be fixed. Six weeks before our interrupted dinner at Le Patio, I met Pippa York for the first time. We went to a village on the edge of the New Forest in Hampshire and for two hours we talked. Before that I'd never had any interaction with a transgender person. Yet I knew her former self. More than 30 years before, I'd covered the Tour de France when Robert Millar was one of the best. Back then Millar gave the impression he would rather have root canal treatment than ten minutes with a journalist. He also seemed more interesting than most riders. But in the way that you might leave a difficult crossword puzzle, I gave up on him. Going to see Pippa that day in Hampshire was in part motivated by a desire to know more about Robert Millar. • Philippa York: 'I'd never deny Robert Millar existed but I was only 5 per cent happy' So when Pippa, now 66, is witty and charming, I mention that she seems different from the Robert I barely knew. 'I am a very different person to Robert Millar. I don't have to be competitive now. Professional cycling isn't a world that's open to friendliness between the people you're with, even if they're your team-mates. I was as competitive as anybody of my generation. I had the ambition and ego and selfishness that you need to succeed. But I wasn't a nice person. I wouldn't have classed myself as a nice person, because I couldn't be. The situations I was in didn't call for niceness.' We talked about everything. How Robert Millar, the young Glaswegian, knew from his first day at primary school that he wanted to be a girl. How that affected his childhood and everything that followed. Cycling was at once the means to a better life and an attempt to suppress feelings that refused to be suppressed. After making his way as a young pro bike rider in France, he married a French woman, Sylvie Transler, in 1985. Four years later they had a son, Edward. 'I didn't get married because I thought it wouldn't work. I thought it'd be OK, this will sort me out. I will have a normal life and I will be a normal person. That works for a while and then eventually it doesn't because you aren't what is classed as normal. You have stuff to deal with that most people don't have to deal with.' Stuff that would have to wait until Millar left the peloton. After retiring in 1995, aged 36, his life was darkened by depression and an overwhelming sense of failure. It felt as if he didn't have the courage to be the person he needed to be. The marriage to Sylvie ended and Millar set up home in England. Without a career, Millar wilted. These were years she remembers as unrelentingly dreadful. Antidepressants seemed only to make things worse. But he'd met a woman, Linda, at a bike race. She was everything he was not: chatty, engaging, fun. Naturally he fell for her. They became a couple and had a daughter, Lydia. This relationship didn't stop what was churning inside him. 'It was getting worse and worse and worse and I thought, I have to deal with this transition stuff.' In 1999 she sought professional help. In early 2000 the transition began. Linda asked for time to consider the changed circumstances. On that afternoon in the New Forest I said I could see that transition was something she truly wanted. No, she corrected me, it was what she truly needed. After my interview with Pippa appeared in The Sunday Times a few weeks later, I called her. 'Would you be interested in travelling with me on the Tour de France?' She was going to be working as an analyst for Cyclingnews, and said she might be. Without having any real idea what we were letting ourselves in for, we met on August 26, 2020, at Gatwick airport, boarded a flight to Nice, picked up a hire car, got our accreditation badges and that was it, together for almost four weeks. It went so well that we did the same for the 2021 and 2022 Tours. In all, this amounted to 12 weeks of togetherness. Five or six hours in the car every day, seats alongside each other at the Centre de Presse and every meal eaten together. Since my first Tour in 1983 I'd travelled with a multitude of journalists, predominantly male, and got on well with most of them. The times with Pippa were the best. She did the driving. I did the questions. The story she told was desperately sad. I would listen back to the tapes and wince at my intrusiveness. How much do I need to know? She said the questions didn't bother her. I had worried about how it would be when she took her place in the press centre and was pleased by the warmth of our colleagues. They ambled over to where we sat and introduced themselves to Pippa. It was their way of saying 'welcome' and there were a few who wrote sympathetic stories about her presence at the race. I joked that she made more time for journalists than Robert Millar ever had. Towards the end of the first week of our first Tour together, Pippa met Sandra Forgues, who — as Wilfrid Forgues — won a gold medal at canoe-slalom at the 1996 Olympics in Atlanta. 'So how did it go?' I asked when she returned. She said it went great. 'Sandra talked about not wanting to die as an old man and that resonated. I too never wanted to die as an old man.' By now I had come to understand enough to know this was absolutely true. In the beginning I had no idea. Why would a man with a female partner and daughter, and a son by a previous relationship, choose at the halfway point in his life to transition? How difficult must that have been? From her first days at Abbotsford Primary School in Glasgow, she knew she was different. Everything about the girls' world appealed to her. Not much about the boys' did. When the girls went to their part of the school yard, she wanted to follow but already sensed that sissies weren't tolerated. She coped by creating a secret world, tiptoeing into his sister Elizabeth's room at their 11th-floor flat in Pollokshaws, south of Glasgow. Elizabeth was a year older and her clothes fitted Robert. Picking the moment carefully, he would sneak into his sister's room and put on her clothes. Dressed in his sister's clothes, he felt more comfortable and more secure. He liked that feeling. The difficulty was getting to see the result in the bathroom mirror, which was downstairs. Once, when alone in the flat, Robert was downstairs, checking his outfit in the mirror. Then the sound of an opening door. His dad unexpectedly arrived home from work. Men in 1970s Glasgow never came home early from work. This day his dad did and there was 13-year-old Robert, dressed as a girl. Tights, skirt, top, make-up, the whole shebang. And Bill Millar in the hallway. For God's sake. Neither Dad nor Robert said a word. The bathroom door closed quickly. Bill Millar went upstairs. Robert pressed his back to the door. He hasn't seen me. He hasn't said anything. I've got away with it. He began removing everything. De-girling. Clothes gone. Face scrubbed. And then from upstairs, the shout: 'Are you finished in there yet?' Robert ran upstairs, sat on his bed and waited. It was late when his father finally came to his bedroom. A man wrestling with words and struggling. He could have said: 'You know, I saw you dressed as a girl today, Robert.' He could have said: 'What the f*** are you playing at, kid?' He could have said: 'No son of mine ' Instead, Bill tried to understand. Tried his best to express something soft through the awkwardness of a working-class Glaswegian man in the 1970s. 'You're going through puberty, adolescence. We all went through it. It's a natural time. It's confusing too.' And his son, the boy who wants to be a girl, isn't relieved to hear the pastoral tone. He's crawling under his bedsheets. It's excruciating. Oh Jesus. Don't, Dad. Anything but this. Be angry even, but not this. Bill confirms that he and Mum have had a talk. Oh, no, he's told my mum. Oh Jesus. What's she gonna say? Why the f*** would you tell her? 'So, your mum and I, we don't want you to worry. You're a good wee lad. And this is just a thing that you're going through. As I said, lots of people go through it. Puberty and all that.' And then: 'I went through it. Yes, when I was growing up, I was a bit confused as well.' Robert is thinking: 'You've dressed as a girl as well? It's not just me, then? Why didn't you say that at the start? Maybe it really is just a phase? Maybe I'm not a freak show like they say in the magazines or the papers. My dad was confused as well. It passed for him. Look at him, he doesn't wear dresses any more. Just look at him. He's fine now.' His dad gets up to leave. Bill Millar walks out of his child's bedroom in Glasgow in the 1970s. Touchy-feely is years away. Man-to-man is all there is, even if one man is a boy whose sole contribution to the conversation has been a mortified grunt. Bill Millar has that face on. The face says, it's OK, I've talked about that. Whatever it was, I've talked about it. I've dealt with that. I've done my bit. I've asked you. You've listened. I can report back downstairs. Job done. 'So that's it, son. Yeah. Now go to sleep.' Bill Millar's footsteps faded down the stairs. Robert lay there, a curled-up comma of a boy, fretting in his bed. Questions he wanted to ask now raised their hands — too late. His mum never, ever mentions the subject. Nobody ever mentions it again. Only once in our hours of conversation on the Tour did Pippa get upset. Her mother, Mary Millar, died on July 30, 1981, of carcinomatosis. She was in her forties. Robert was then a second-year professional, riding for the Peugeot team in France. Though he knew his mum had been unwell, the thought of her dying hadn't crossed his mind. Elizabeth called. 'Mum's died.' He replied flatly: 'OK, I'll be back for the funeral. Do we know when it will be?' And his sister said: 'Well, she died a month ago. We've already had all that. You know, the funeral and stuff.' His first thought was: 'What the f***?' His first words were: 'What do you mean? Why didn't you tell me?' 'Oh,' Elizabeth said, 'we didn't want it to get in the way of what you were doing.' I asked Pippa what her relationship with her mother was like. 'I thought it was OK. I was closer to my mum than to my father.' Did she call her family much? 'No, no. I almost never called them, no. And they'd never call me because it cost a fortune to make international calls.' Did her single-mindedness give them the wrong impression? 'Yeah, I think it was that.' I asked how she remembered her mother. 'Now, there's a hard question. I don't remember her as the person that became ill… You've just made me cry.' A long pause. 'I don't really want to answer that.' It was in the Pyrenees that I first stood on a mountain and waited for the Tour de France. Tenth stage of the 1983 race, Pau to Bagnères de Luchon, 201km that traversed four mountain passes: the Aubisque, Tourmalet, Aspin and Peyresourde. Intense heat for a stage that would last for 6 hours and 23 minutes. Just brutal. A week or so before I'd jumped on the back of Tony Kelly's BMW 1000 motorbike and from Dublin we headed south to Rosslare, took the ferry to Le Havre and then chased down through France to catch up with the Tour. It felt as if we were running away with the circus. On the Aspin we waited for five hours, killing time with speculation about how things would play out. Rarely in sport is one's anticipation of action commensurate with one's experience of it. Tony and I were fans, there to cheer on our compatriots Sean Kelly and Stephen Roche. Kelly had the yellow jersey, Roche the white jersey given to the leading young rider. That day the two Irish riders were crushed, but in tandem with a tough 30-year-old Colombian climber, José Patrocinio Jiménez, the 24-year-old Robert Millar rode the race of his life. • Philippa York: 'Doping? It was cheating and all of us were doing it' The two led over the Tourmalet, Aspin and Peyresourde and 300 metres from the top of the final climb, Millar accelerated away from his companion. Two arms raised, he crossed the finish line all alone in Bagnères. On one of the cruellest mountain days in the Tour, he had outridden every rival. One of the great performances. When I remind Pippa of this, the implied praise comes with a caveat. Being Robert Millar, I say, must have been compensation for not being the person he wanted to be. Who can win a stage of the Tour de France and not feel elated? Pippa smiles softly at my enthusiasm. Without saying as much, her expression says I am a simpleton who imagines victory takes care of all. 'Pippa York and Robert Millar are two different people,' she says. 'I don't deny Robert's existence. Philippa couldn't have won those bike races. The difference is I now feel 95 per cent content. Before, when I existed as Robert, I was about 5 per cent content. I've now just got the normal concerns. Wrinkles, wishing I was taller, slimmer, whatever. That missing 5 per cent is not related to gender.' Pippa was 41 when she committed to transition. The process would take ten years, and take her to San Francisco and Thailand. As she explained it, there are stages of transition and the person transitioning starts without knowing the end point. 'You're going into the unknown. You first do the counselling and you think, I am who I am now. Then you realise that's not enough. 'So you decide, I'd like hormonal treatment, and then that makes you feel a lot better. And again, you want more because you're on a small dose and it doesn't make enough of a difference. The hormones affect those pathways in your head that would have been active if you'd been born female. Now they're all activated. You're thinking, 'This is good, I'm happy with this but I'm not happy with how I look.' 'And then you deal with the bits you're left with, which are male and you're thinking, 'Well, I don't really need those.' ' First, there was the facial surgery. Pippa went to Douglas Ousterhout in San Francisco because he was a pioneer of facial feminisation surgery. It was expensive. 'I thought, 'I can spend this amount of money on a really good car or I can spend it on a better face.' Which was going to serve me longer? Which is more important to me? When I'm sitting on a bus and a load of teenagers get on and they look over at me, do I want them to think that I was previously male? Recently male? Or do I want them to glance over and think, 'There's a woman,' and not give me a second glance?' The operation took eight hours. Pippa didn't worry about the duration, or even too much about the outcome. She simply wanted to survive the scrutiny that a trans person endures. When people looked at her in the street, it didn't really matter to her if they thought she was an ugly woman. All that mattered was that when they looked, they saw a woman. A year later she travelled to Thailand, where she'd found a surgeon who would complete her transition. Dr Chettawut enjoyed a burgeoning reputation for his work with trans patients. Pippa spent 30 days in Thailand. This process was intensely difficult not just for Pippa herself, but for her partner, Linda, and her children, Edward, who is now 36, and Lydia, 30. Edward and Lydia have been understanding, so too Linda. Pippa recognised that Linda might not wish to continue in their relationship. Linda had met and fallen in love with Robert Millar. Now her partner was a female called Philippa York. After much reflection, Linda decided to stay. They are still together. Being male and predictable, I was curious about what happened to the severed parts in Thailand. Do they just wash them down the drain? 'It's a question that people often ask me,' Pippa replied. 'I'm glad they do as it's a chance to explain something a bit spiritual. I was in Thailand. Dr Chettawut is a Buddhist, and in Buddhist tradition it's usual that they allow you, encourage you, to retain all the things they remove from you. 'In their belief system it's part of your soul. Every part of the body is deemed sacred and you have to keep everything you were given. It's part of the unity of life. You have to keep them close to you. So after the operation they give them to you in a jar. It's a nice jar and you can take them home. Some people may bury them. But I still have them at home. I keep them in the living room above the fireplace.' I am flabbergasted. 'Wow. So, they give them to you and you keep your penis in a jar in the living room? That's amazing.' 'No, David, it isn't,' Pippa says. 'But you're the most gullible journalist on the Tour de France. For the record, I've absolutely no idea what happened to the parts.' © Pippa York and David Walsh 2025. Extracted from The Escape: The Tour, the Cyclist and Me by Pippa York and David Walsh (Mudlark £22), published on Thursday. Order a copy at Discount for Times+ members

Belfast Telegraph

13-06-2025

• Belfast Telegraph

King's Birthday Honours: Full list of 70 NI recipients as Michael Dunlop and Dame Jocelyn Bell Burnell named

Scroll down for all the details of all of the Northern Ireland recipients A 106-year-old war veteran and a road racing legend are among the locals named in the King's Birthday Honours list. 70 people from Northern Ireland have been recognised, including community champions and those involved in sport, arts, health, economy and policing. They join names such as David Beckham and The Who singer Roger Daltrey, who are knighted, and Strictly Come Dancing stars Tess Daly and Claudia Winkleman, who are made MBEs. One of the most notable local recipients is Coleraine pensioner Norman Irwin, who at 106 is Northern Ireland's oldest man. He has been awarded the British Empire Medal for services to the community in the town. Mr Irwin, who was born in 1918 and has lived in Coleraine all his life apart from six-and-a-half years during the Second World War, said he was honoured by the gong. He added that it had come as a big surprise, joking he was 'getting on a bit'. Born a few days after the end of the First World War, Mr Irwin joined the Coleraine Battery of the Royal Artillery in 1939 and served in North Africa before becoming one of the founding members of the Royal Electrical and Mechanical Engineers (REME) in 1942, rising to the rank of sergeant. He became known for his initiative in the field — when tools were unavailable he made his own and 'got on with the job without fuss'. After the war he helped found several community organisations including the Coleraine Winemakers Club and the Coleraine Probus Club, a cross-community group for retirees. He also helped start the Agivey Anglers Association. Asked for his secret to a long life, the great-grandfather of four replied: 'A glass of Bushmills every day!' His family explained that he found out about the award via a letter from the Cabinet Office. They described him as a 'brilliant role model' with 'a quick wit and great sense of humour'. The honour also marks a special connection, as King Charles is the fifth monarch in Mr Irwin's lifetime. Road racing legend Michael Dunlop is also to receive an honour in the form of an MBE. Part of the famous Dunlop motorcycling dynasty, Michael has been recognised for his outstanding contribution to the sport. With a record-breaking 33 victories at the Isle of Man TT, he is the most successful rider in the event's history. Since beginning his professional career in 2006 he has consistently pushed the boundaries of speed and endurance, famously becoming the first to lap the TT's Mountain Course in under 17 minutes. With over 120 national road race wins, he was named Motorcycle News Rider of the Year in 2023 and crowned King of the Roads at the 2024 Irish Motorbike Awards. Astrophysicist Dame Jocelyn Bell Burnell (81) from Lurgan, Co Armagh, who as a doctoral student discovered the first radio pulsars in 1967, is to be made a Companion of Honour. Other local names on the list include Elizabeth Norah McGrath (61) from Co Down, who will receive a BEM for services to suicide prevention. Described as a 'professional and committed healthcare worker', Ms McGrath has long held a passion for improving mental health services. She spearheaded the launch of the Suicide Prevention Care Pathway to quickly respond to patients at risk, co-produced with service users and volunteers with lived experience. Also honoured is Christine Smith KC from Co Down, chairwoman of the Urology Services Inquiry, who is being made a CBE. Ms Smith said she was 'deeply honoured'. 'I feel privileged to be the recipient as the first woman to chair a public inquiry in Northern Ireland. 'I see it as a recognition of the incredible mentors and champions I have had throughout my career, and I am most grateful for their support. 'I also see it as a reflection of the collective effort of my team on the Urology Services Inquiry and those I have been lucky to work with on previous inquiries, including the Independent Neurology Inquiry, the Renewable Heat Incentive Inquiry, and in particular the inquiry into Historical Institutional Abuse.' PSNI say Portadown riots had 'more co-ordination' as mutual aid to be deployed this weekend Singer and choir leader Maria Stephenson Lacey (68) from Belfast will be awarded an MBE for her services to the arts. The founder of the multicultural Belfast Community Gospel Choir in 2009, she has grown the group into a 100-strong ensemble that performs here and internationally, sharing a message of joy and inclusion. Meanwhile Richard Taylor, governor of Hydebank Wood Secure College and Women's Prison, is being made an OBE for public service. Mr Taylor credited the whole team of staff for being part of a 10-year process of turning the south Belfast facility around, following a critical inspection report in 2013, to being described as a 'model of excellence'. Prime Minister Keir Starmer shared his congratulations with everyone on the list. In a statement he said: 'This year's Birthday Honours List is a powerful reminder of the extraordinary dedication, compassion, and service that exists in every corner of our country. 'From community champions to cultural icons, each recipient reflects the very best of Britain. 'I extend my heartfelt congratulations and gratitude to them all.' Secretary of State Hilary Benn also paid tribute to those from here on the King's list 'The many individual stories of contribution, service and dedication to the wider community are truly humbling and inspiring,' he said. Members of the Order of the Companions of Honour (CH) Professor Dame Susan Jocelyn Bell Burnell DBE FRS FRSE: Visiting Professor, University of Oxford. For services to Astronomy and Physics and to Diversity Companion of the Order of the Bath (CB) Mr Peter William May: Lately Permanent Secretary, Department of Health, Northern Ireland Civil Service. For Public Service Commanders of the Order of the British Empire (CBE) Mrs Christine Anne Smith: Chair, Urology Services Inquiry. For services to Public Inquiries in Northern Ireland Officers of the Order of the British Empire (OBE) Ms Victoria Anne Barnett: Chief Executive, Danske Bank UK. For services to the Economy in Northern Ireland Dr Veronica Barbara Holland: Lately Head of Violence Against the Person Branch, Department of Justice, Northern Ireland Civil Service. For Public Service Mr Paul Thomas Keith Holmes: Senior Director of Investigations, Office of the Police Ombudsman for Northern Ireland. For services to Public Service Ms Roslyn Elizabeth McMullan: For services to Mental Health and Wellbeing in the Dentistry Profession in Northern Ireland Mr Terence Edward Pateman: Chair, Northern Amateur Football League. For services to Grassroots Sport and to Community Relations Mr Richard Taylor: Governor, Northern Ireland Prison Service. For Public Service Members of the Order of the British Empire (MBE) Mr Norman Marshall Allen: For service to Education in Portadown, County Armagh Mr Neil Booth: For services to Lawn Bowls Mr Richard Brown: Inspector, Police Service of Northern Ireland. For Public Service Miss Catherine Jean Burke: Lately Head, Musculoskeletal Services Occupational Health and Wellbeing, Police Service of Northern Ireland. For services to Health and Wellbeing Mrs Winifred (Jill) Elizabeth Coulter-Sloan: For services to Disability Sport Mr Samuel Crowe: For services to the community in County Antrim Mrs Joanne Currie: Principal, Cairnshill Integrated Primary School. For services to Education and to the community in South Belfast Miss Edith Roberta Dalton: Principal, Head of Historical Institutional Abuse Implementation Branch, The Executive Office, Northern Ireland Civil Service. For services to Victims and Survivors of Historical Institutional Abuse in Northern Ireland Ms Jennifer Donnan: Hospice Palliative Care Nurse. For services to Palliative Care in Northern Ireland Dr Elizabeth Jean Donnelly: Lead Nurse Tissue Viability Nurse Specialist, Belfast Health and Social Care Trust. For services to Nursing and Health and Social Care Mr Michael Dunlop: For services to Motor Cycle Racing Mr Robert William Patrick Dunne: Volunteer Treasurer, Veterans' Housing Scotland. For services to Veterans Professor Peter Raymond Flatt: Professor of Biomedical Sciences and Head of Diabetes Research, Ulster University. For services to Diabetes Research Dr Anne Bernadette Mary Friel: Lately Head of Pharmacy and Medicines Management, Western Trust. For services to Pharmacy in Northern Ireland Mrs Ingrid Aileen Hannaway: For services to the Duke of Edinburgh's Award Scheme in Northern Ireland Mr James Desmond Hill: Lately Clerk, County Londonderry Lieutenancy. For services to the community in County Londonderry Mrs Elaine Sorca Kennedy: Chair, Board of Governors, Fivemiletown College. For services to Education in Northern Ireland Dr Maria Stephenson Lacey: For services to the Arts in Northern Ireland Mrs Margaret Petrina Mathieson: Staff Officer, Department of Finance, Northern Ireland Civil Service. For voluntary services to Athletics in Northern Ireland Mr James Anthony McGinn: Managing Director, Hastings Hotels. For services to Hospitality and Tourism in Northern Ireland Mrs Margaret Anne McManus: Fundraiser. For services to the Deafblind Community in Northern Ireland Mr David Ekin Millar: For services to Business and to the community in Northern Ireland Mrs Fiona Elizabeth Morrison: Outreach Officer, Blesma, The Limbless Veterans. For services to Veterans and their Families in Northern Ireland Mr Donald Morrow: Head of Dairy, Pigs, Poultry and Crops Branch, College of Agriculture, Food and Rural Enterprise, Department for Agriculture, Environment and Rural Affairs. For services to the Agriculture Industry and to Scouting in Northern Ireland Mr Michael Joseph Mulholland: Deputy Principal, Historical Institutional Abuse Implementation Branch, The Executive Office, Northern Ireland Civil Service. For services to Victims and Survivors of Historical Institutional Abuse in Northern Ireland Mr Gary Anthony Nicolas: For services to Emergency Search and Rescue Service and to Adults with Special Needs and Disabilities in Northern Ireland Ms Jennifer Pogue: Principal, Arellian Nursery School, Belfast. For services to Early Years Education Mrs Elizabeth Anne Smith: For services to the community in County Tyrone Mr George Ussher: For services to the Royal Scottish Pipe Band Association Professor Louise Adele Walker: Foundation Dean, School of Medicine, Ulster University. For services to General Practice and Medical Education Medallists of the Order of the British Empire (BEM) Mrs Lorraine Denise Armstrong: Administrative Officer, Labour Relations Agency. For services to Employment Relations in Northern Ireland Mrs Mabel Greaves: For services to Young Families in County Fermanagh Mrs Janice Greer: Volunteer, Royal Ulster Constabulary George Cross Foundation. For services to the Royal Ulster Constabulary George Cross Foundation Mr Haydn Charles Hassard: For services to Older People in Northern Ireland Mr William Norman Wilson Irwin: For services to the community in Coleraine, County Londonderry Mrs Heather Kelso: Lately Leader, Kilrea Community Early Years Playgroup. For services to Early Years Education Dr John Bernard Keith Kerr: For services to the community in County Londonderry Ms Kathryn MacKenzie: Lately Chair, Triangle Housing Association. For services to Social Housing in Northern Ireland Mrs Winifred Ann Magowan: For services to community in County Tyrone Mr Noel Maxwell: Driver, Northern Ireland Civil Service. For Public Service and Charitable Work in Northern Ireland Mrs Lorraine Ann McCann: Management Side Officer, Education Authority. For services to Education and to Volunteering Mr Jeffrey William Joseph McClure: Lately Emergency Planning Officer, Northern Ireland Ambulance Service. For services to Emergency Planning Mr Wesley McDowell: Chaplain, Northern Ireland Prison Service. For services to Prisoners and their Families in Northern Ireland Mrs Elizabeth Norah McGrath: Service Improvement Manager, Southern Health and Social Care Trust. For services to Suicide Prevention in Northern Ireland Mrs Christine Ruth McKeeman: Lately Unit Catering Supervisor, Straidbilly Primary School. For services to Education in Northern Ireland Mr Terence Stewart Smith: For services to Music Development in Londonderry Mrs Clara Smyth: For services to Fundraising in Northern Ireland Miss Joan Elizabeth Smyth: Administrative Officer, Police Service of Northern Ireland. For services to Policing Wing Commander Richard Noel Williams: For services to the Veteran Community in Northern Ireland Mrs Clara Rachel Wilson: For services to Music in Northern Ireland Mrs Emily Wilson: Volunteer, Alzheimer's Society and Chair, Dementia Friendly North Belfast. For services to People Living with Dementia in Northern Ireland King's Police Medal (KPM) Mr Stephen George Dickson: Constable, Police Service of Northern Ireland

Daily Mirror

12-06-2025

• Daily Mirror

Justin Thomas' true Jordan Spieth thoughts with relationship crystal clear

Golf stars Justin Thomas and Jordan Spieth have a strong friendship, but it seems the duo aren't afraid to put their alliance to one side when it comes to battling for the game's biggest titles Jordan Spieth and Justin Thomas have one of golf's strongest friendships, dating back to their teenage years on the junior circuit. Spieth, 31, and Thomas, 32, teed off in the US Open on Thursday at the challenging Oakmont Country Club in Pennsylvania. Both players will be eager to end a dry spell in the majors by conquering Oakmont's formidable course during the prestigious tournament. ‌ Speaking on Netflix 's latest golf documentary, Full Swing, Thomas displayed his fierce side, however, by admitting that he is happy to put his 20-year-long friendship with Spieth on the back burner in order to achieve his goals. ‌ 'He's one of my best friends, we're always going to pull for each other," Thomas said on the first episode of the show. "But at the same time, I hope that I beat him in every single tournament that we play in for the rest of our life.' Spieth boasts an illustrious career with three major titles under his belt, but has not secured one of the game's premium events since his triumph at The Open in 2017. Thomas, on the other hand, has two majors to his name, winning the PGA Championship in 2017 and 2022. While they will be going head-to-head at Oakmont, it appears Thomas has always enjoyed a competitive streak with his closest friend. Speaking in 2017, he opened up on how they've always gone toe-to-toe, regardless of the tournament. "I mean, we're always competing," he said. "Whether it was we want to be at the top of the Rolex Rankings in junior golf; we want to be the low junior golfer in the US. "Amateur; we want to make the cut as an amateur in a Tour event; we want to win college player of the year and we want to lead our team's scoring average. It's just now we're at the top level." ‌ The duo, who grew especially close after playing all over the world as teenagers, have been spotted on vacation in the Bahamas together, while Spieth was also Thomas' best man when he married Jillian Wisniewski. Despite their highly competitive nature, there is a more tender side to their bromance. In January 2024, Thomas lifted the lid to GOLF's Subpar podcast on his best friend's contribution to his wedding. 'I hate to do this, but man, he crushed it,' Thomas said on Spieth's best man speech. 'I'll give him an A+. He didn't lose the rings, which, if you know Jordan, that's always on the table. He had a great speech. Didn't throw me under the bus but also had a few subtle jabs in there." Spieth and Thomas also bought shares in the 49ers group, which own Leeds United. Yet, alliances will once again be tested as the pair battle it out for the US Open. With Oakmont's damp conditions worrying some of the finest names in the game – from Bryson DeChambeau to Rory McIlroy – Spieth, who is still battling back after wrist surgery, has revealed that he is ready for whatever Oakmont throws his way. 'This course is built to be like this,' he told the Associated Press recently. 'So they're not doing a whole lot different to the golf course. You hit a good shot, you get rewarded for it here. And if you don't, you're in big trouble. It's pure golf, no funny business about it.'