Latest news with #ACM
Time Magazine
7 hours ago
- Time Magazine
The True Story Behind the 'Grenfell: Uncovered'
In the early hours of June 14, 2017, residents of Grenfell Tower were caught off guard by a deadly fire that would turn the building into an international symbol of negligence and injustice. What started as a small kitchen fire in the 24-story residential building in North Kensington, London, quickly spread uncontrollably through the exterior, ultimately resulting in the deaths of 72 people. The tragedy is revisited in the documentary Grenfell: Uncovered, which premieres on Netflix on June 20. The film gives voice to victims, reveals behind-the-scenes details of the investigation, and exposes how corporate interests and government failures contributed to the disaster. But what exactly happened that night—and what followed? How did the Grenfell Tower fire start? The fire originated in Flat 16, on the fourth floor. The resident, Behailu Kebede, was awakened by the smoke alarm and saw flames near the fridge and freezer, which had caught on fire. He immediately called the fire brigade at 12:54 a.m., and the first crews arrived at the building five minutes later. The first firefighters entered the flat at around 1:07 a.m. They conducted a quick sweep but didn't reach the kitchen until seven minutes later. According to a firefighter's account, there was a 'curtain of fire' rising to the ceiling. Thermal images captured by the team suggest that gases and flames were already escaping through the kitchen window, which was located by the fridge. From 1:09 a.m. onwards, the fire began to break through to the outside of the building—marking the start of a devastating spread. Within 30 minutes of the firefighters' arrival, the fire had climbed up the east side of the tower and reached the top floor. By 4:30 a.m., the entire building was ablaze, and more than 100 flats had been affected. Why did the fire spread so quickly? Several structural and design flaws contributed to the rapid and catastrophic spread of the flames. The most critical factor was the exterior cladding installed during a 2016 refurbishment. Grenfell Tower had been covered with aluminum composite panels (ACMs) that contained a polyethylene core—a highly flammable plastic that releases enormous amounts of heat when burned, essentially acting as fuel for the fire. Additionally, the thermal insulation installed beneath the cladding — made of polyurethane foam — was also combustible and helped the fire spread, as did other construction materials. Renovations to the windows included the use of flammable materials, which allowed the fire to pass from one floor to another through gaps in the structures. Experts featured in Grenfell: Uncovered highlight that the ACM cladding—made of aluminum composite material with a polyethylene core—had already been flagged in previous fire tests as dangerous, with rapid burn, intense heat, and heavy smoke release. These test results were kept secret by companies like Arconic, the manufacturer of the material used in Grenfell Tower. The failure of the emergency plan Like many residential buildings in the UK, Grenfell Tower followed a fire safety policy known as 'stay put'—the idea that in the event of a fire, residents should remain in their flats, trusting that the building's design would prevent the flames from spreading. But this plan failed catastrophically that night. By 1:26 a.m., less than 30 minutes after the fire brigade arrived, it was clear the situation was out of control. In desperation, some people climbed to neighbors' flats on higher floors, others jumped from the building, and many ignored the official advice and fled down the stairs in search of safety. Even so, an evacuation order was only issued at 2:47 a.m. Richard Millett QC, the lead counsel to the Grenfell Tower Inquiry, stated in a hearing on June 4, 2018, that 144 people had evacuated the building before 1:38 a.m. After that point—when the 'stay put' advice was finally abandoned—only 36 more people managed to escape. The role of the government in the tragedy While corporate negligence was a key factor in the fire, government oversight—or lack thereof—also played a central role. The cladding material used in Grenfell Tower had already been banned in countries like the United States due to its flammability. Yet, in the UK, it remained legal, largely due to years of deregulating the construction industry. Policies implemented encouraged the loosening of safety standards in favor of cost-cutting and efficiency measures, creating a regulatory vacuum in which unsafe materials could be approved and used. Furthermore, internal documents later revealed that the local authorities responsible for Grenfell—the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea (RBKC) and the Kensington & Chelsea Tenant Management Organisation (KCTMO)—were aware of the potential risks. Cost-cutting decisions during the tower's refurbishment led them to choose the cheaper, more dangerous cladding, instead of safer alternatives like zinc. Residents had long raised safety concerns. Six months before the fire, a local tenant group had warned about fire risks in an open letter. Their pleas were ignored. The fire at Lakanal House in 2009, which killed six people and also involved flammable cladding, should have served as a wake-up call. But once again, authorities failed to act. The investigation and the pursuit of justice After the fire, an extensive public investigation was launched. The Grenfell Tower Inquiry, established to determine causes, was divided into two phases. The first began in September 2017 and concluded in October 2019, focusing on the events of the night itself through witness testimony. The second phase, which began in January 2020, examined broader structural issues—including decisions made during the building's refurbishment and the involvement of companies that supplied flammable materials. Following years of extensive hearings, the final report was published on September 4, 2024. It attributed the disaster to failures by the government, the construction industry, and especially the companies responsible for installing flammable cladding on the building's exterior. The report found that the cladding did not meet fire safety regulations and was the primary reason for the rapid spread of the fire. It also criticized the London Fire Brigade's delayed shift from 'stay put' advice to a full evacuation order, which significantly compromised rescue efforts. A total of 58 recommendations were made, including updates to building regulations. With the official inquiry concluded, it is now up to the police to identify potential criminal cases and refer them to the Crown Prosecution Service (CPS), which will decide whether to bring formal charges. Due to the complexity of the material gathered, authorities have stated that any criminal charges are unlikely to be filed before the end of 2026.
Cosmopolitan
18 hours ago
- General
- Cosmopolitan
Grenfell Tower now: finally, after eight years the government has announced new plans for the site
Eight years after a tragic fire broke out claiming the lives of 72 people, Grenfell Tower still stands in North Kensington, the fire-damaged building is as a stark reminder of the 72 people who were killed in the blaze eight years ago. Now, a new Netflix documentary has gone into granular detail about the fire, with Grenfell: Uncovered looking into the factors that led to the fateful event on 14 June. It took 60 hours for the fire to be fully extinguished. While the main building itself is made of concrete, the building's exterior was clad in aluminium composite material (ACM) with polyethylene (PE) at its core. PE is highly flammable, which led to the quick spread of the fire. The building is now badly damaged, with a 2020 report saying some of the disrepair to the upper levels of the tower had been exacerbated by the weather conditions. In 2018, in the run-up to the first anniversary, the top few floors of the tower had a sign added; a large green heart, which has come to be representative of Grenfell, as well as the statement: Grenfell: Forever in Our Hearts However, the government has since announced new plans for the tower block – which have not necessarily been warmly received by survivors or by those who lost loved ones in the fire. Cosmopolitan UK speaks to Jackie and Bernie Bernard, who lost their brother Ray to the Grenfell fire, as well as Grenfell: Uncovered documentary maker Olaide Sadiq, about future plans for Grenfell. In February this year, Deputy Prime Minister Angela Rayner confirmed plans to demolish Grenfell Tower. In a statement, the government said they had consulted independent expert advice, with engineers advising 'it is not practicable to retain many of the floors of the building in place as part of a memorial that must last in perpetuity'. Because of this, the Deputy Prime Minister has concluded ' that it would not be fair to keep some floors of the building that are significant to some families, whilst not being able to do so for others'. It will now take two years for the tower to be deconstructed, with the government saying this will be done in a 'careful and sensitive way'. However, this has not been welcomed by everyone in the community. Speaking to Cosmopolitan UK, Bernie explained: 'Personally, I think it's an insult. 'I think everybody understands the tower has to come down, but it doesn't have to come down to ground level. 'I'm saying is at least keep the main reception intact so that we have a place where we can go to grieve the people that were cremated in that building. The plans aren't something the bereaved have welcomed.' Olaide Sadiq, who attended the most recent Grenfell memorial earlier this month, agreed the mood was sombre amongst those who are part of the community. 'I think there was a there was a large shock within the community when they decided that's what they were doing with the tower,' she tells Cosmopolitan UK. 'While making the documentary, a lot of our contributors told us they go to the tower regularly. It's a second grave site for them for when they want to pay their respects to people they've lost. 'There's an understanding that perhaps the building can't remain 24 storeys high, but when the tower is brought down to ground level, it's gone – and if it's out of sight, it's out of mind.' A report by the Grenfell Tower Memorial Commission said construction of a permanent memorial to those affected by the Grenfell fire could begin as early as 2026. The commission, which is comprised of of representatives of the bereaved, survivors, local residents as well as two independent co-chairs, was created in order to ensure the community was at the heart of decisions on the long-term future of the site. Plans are thought to include a garden, monument and space for grieving. The commission said: "Everyone agrees that if Grenfell Tower comes down, it should be dismantled with care and respect, and in a way that honours our loved ones who were taken from us." Kimberley Bond is a Multiplatform Writer for Harper's Bazaar, focusing on the arts, culture, careers and lifestyle. She previously worked as a Features Writer for Cosmopolitan UK, and has bylines at The Telegraph, The Independent and British Vogue among countless others.
The Advertiser
a day ago
- Entertainment
- The Advertiser
I love being a parent in the time of Bluey. But Duck Cake nearly broke me
Voice of Real Australia is a regular newsletter from the local news teams of the ACM network, which stretches into every state and territory. Today's is written by Illawarra Mercury deputy editor Kate McIlwain. Normally, I count myself lucky to be a parent in the age of Bluey, which first screened when my eldest child was six weeks old. Over the past 6.5 years, the show about the two Heeler sisters and their parents has been a constant source of humour and solidarity as I parent my own pair of energetic sisters. Even though I've seen every episode more than once, it's still the show I'll sit down to watch with my kids when it's on. But this year, for the first time, I found myself cursing that small blue dog - or more accurately, her little sister Bingo. The reason? Duck Cake. For the uninitiated, Duck Cake - originally called Rubber Ducky - featured in the pages of the hallowed Women's Weekly Children's Birthday Cake Book, which millennials like me are now inflicting on our children because of the huge role it played in our own childhoods. (It's such a cultural phenomenon that it's just been memorialised in coin format by the Australian Mint!) It's also the title of an episode of Bluey, in which Bingo chooses the weird apricot-coloured, potato-chip-beaked, popcorn-feathered creation that no one ever used to choose, for her fifth birthday cake "because it makes my tail wag". Her dad, Bandit, is then saddled with recreating Duck Cake - "the hardest of all cakes" - while Chilli and Bingo go out. The episode unfolds with him dropping the duck's head but still producing a wonky cake that Bingo loves, and Bluey learning a lesson about helping with cleaning up and what makes her tail wag. This has catapulted Duck Cake into superstardom for many of the younger members of Gen Alpha, including my kids, and I know of plenty of parents who have now had to make Duck Cake - for real life (IYKYK). My four-year-old had been requesting it for an entire year in the lead up to her birthday, and - thinking she would forget by the time her actual birthday rolled around - I kept agreeing that of course she could have Duck Cake if that's what her heart desired. But reader, she did not forget. Which is how I found myself trying to work out how to engineer a duck from cake and icing ahead of her birthday party. Liquorice was the final straw When I told my school mum friends I was making Duck Cake, some of them just laughed. They all demanded photos of the finished product. One offered advice about using a strong buttercream and plenty of skewers. I actually love making cakes for my kids - and have even baked wedding cakes for several people over the years - but as I made this one, I began to see why Chilli and Bandit use "Duck Cake" in place of that other rhyming expletive. It was the fourth trip to the supermarket to find strap liquorice that did it. I'd made it past the Michelangelo-level cake carving of the duck's body, and managed to make a sturdy head and neck which wasn't going to do a Bandit and fall off. (The head did look a bit like ET instead of a duck, but that was okay because the 1980s alien happens to be my four-year-old's favourite character, go figure). I'd made copious amounts of yellow buttercream and spread it over the duck in the fluffy, artful style of the AWW. And then, having been unable to find suitable liquorice at Aldi and Coles, I was trying to make sure the duck's eyes didn't look deranged. I had first tried leaving off the black outline - which made it look very angry and kind of hypnotised. Then I tried drawing on the black circles with chocolate icing paint. But that quickly began melting down all over the duck's face and I had to scrape it off and start again. So off to Woolies to track down liquorice I went. And I had to buy TWO METRES of the vile stuff, even though I needed two 7cm strips to form the perfect black, wide-eyed circles around the orange smarties I used for eyes. Energy flagging, I turned my attention to a packet of crinkle-cut chips, and began sorting them into piles to see if I could select two that would work for a duck's beak. I found the perfect pair, but then broke them in half because I wasn't careful enough shoving them into the icing the first time. Argh. My daughter then wanted to "help" with the popcorn part, which meant I had to pick it off and do it all again once she got bored. Anyway, in the end, I had produced a Duck Cake that was better than Bandit's but probably not quite as good as the AWW. Success! And at my daughter's party it was total hit on two fronts. Because of the Bluey-effect the kids were delighted, and because it's just bloody difficult, the parents were super impressed too. And of course, the beatific smile on my four-year-old's face as we all sang and blew out the candles made my tail wag, maybe even enough that I'll let her choose whichever cake she likes again next year. Voice of Real Australia is a regular newsletter from the local news teams of the ACM network, which stretches into every state and territory. Today's is written by Illawarra Mercury deputy editor Kate McIlwain. Normally, I count myself lucky to be a parent in the age of Bluey, which first screened when my eldest child was six weeks old. Over the past 6.5 years, the show about the two Heeler sisters and their parents has been a constant source of humour and solidarity as I parent my own pair of energetic sisters. Even though I've seen every episode more than once, it's still the show I'll sit down to watch with my kids when it's on. But this year, for the first time, I found myself cursing that small blue dog - or more accurately, her little sister Bingo. The reason? Duck Cake. For the uninitiated, Duck Cake - originally called Rubber Ducky - featured in the pages of the hallowed Women's Weekly Children's Birthday Cake Book, which millennials like me are now inflicting on our children because of the huge role it played in our own childhoods. (It's such a cultural phenomenon that it's just been memorialised in coin format by the Australian Mint!) It's also the title of an episode of Bluey, in which Bingo chooses the weird apricot-coloured, potato-chip-beaked, popcorn-feathered creation that no one ever used to choose, for her fifth birthday cake "because it makes my tail wag". Her dad, Bandit, is then saddled with recreating Duck Cake - "the hardest of all cakes" - while Chilli and Bingo go out. The episode unfolds with him dropping the duck's head but still producing a wonky cake that Bingo loves, and Bluey learning a lesson about helping with cleaning up and what makes her tail wag. This has catapulted Duck Cake into superstardom for many of the younger members of Gen Alpha, including my kids, and I know of plenty of parents who have now had to make Duck Cake - for real life (IYKYK). My four-year-old had been requesting it for an entire year in the lead up to her birthday, and - thinking she would forget by the time her actual birthday rolled around - I kept agreeing that of course she could have Duck Cake if that's what her heart desired. But reader, she did not forget. Which is how I found myself trying to work out how to engineer a duck from cake and icing ahead of her birthday party. Liquorice was the final straw When I told my school mum friends I was making Duck Cake, some of them just laughed. They all demanded photos of the finished product. One offered advice about using a strong buttercream and plenty of skewers. I actually love making cakes for my kids - and have even baked wedding cakes for several people over the years - but as I made this one, I began to see why Chilli and Bandit use "Duck Cake" in place of that other rhyming expletive. It was the fourth trip to the supermarket to find strap liquorice that did it. I'd made it past the Michelangelo-level cake carving of the duck's body, and managed to make a sturdy head and neck which wasn't going to do a Bandit and fall off. (The head did look a bit like ET instead of a duck, but that was okay because the 1980s alien happens to be my four-year-old's favourite character, go figure). I'd made copious amounts of yellow buttercream and spread it over the duck in the fluffy, artful style of the AWW. And then, having been unable to find suitable liquorice at Aldi and Coles, I was trying to make sure the duck's eyes didn't look deranged. I had first tried leaving off the black outline - which made it look very angry and kind of hypnotised. Then I tried drawing on the black circles with chocolate icing paint. But that quickly began melting down all over the duck's face and I had to scrape it off and start again. So off to Woolies to track down liquorice I went. And I had to buy TWO METRES of the vile stuff, even though I needed two 7cm strips to form the perfect black, wide-eyed circles around the orange smarties I used for eyes. Energy flagging, I turned my attention to a packet of crinkle-cut chips, and began sorting them into piles to see if I could select two that would work for a duck's beak. I found the perfect pair, but then broke them in half because I wasn't careful enough shoving them into the icing the first time. Argh. My daughter then wanted to "help" with the popcorn part, which meant I had to pick it off and do it all again once she got bored. Anyway, in the end, I had produced a Duck Cake that was better than Bandit's but probably not quite as good as the AWW. Success! And at my daughter's party it was total hit on two fronts. Because of the Bluey-effect the kids were delighted, and because it's just bloody difficult, the parents were super impressed too. And of course, the beatific smile on my four-year-old's face as we all sang and blew out the candles made my tail wag, maybe even enough that I'll let her choose whichever cake she likes again next year. Voice of Real Australia is a regular newsletter from the local news teams of the ACM network, which stretches into every state and territory. Today's is written by Illawarra Mercury deputy editor Kate McIlwain. Normally, I count myself lucky to be a parent in the age of Bluey, which first screened when my eldest child was six weeks old. Over the past 6.5 years, the show about the two Heeler sisters and their parents has been a constant source of humour and solidarity as I parent my own pair of energetic sisters. Even though I've seen every episode more than once, it's still the show I'll sit down to watch with my kids when it's on. But this year, for the first time, I found myself cursing that small blue dog - or more accurately, her little sister Bingo. The reason? Duck Cake. For the uninitiated, Duck Cake - originally called Rubber Ducky - featured in the pages of the hallowed Women's Weekly Children's Birthday Cake Book, which millennials like me are now inflicting on our children because of the huge role it played in our own childhoods. (It's such a cultural phenomenon that it's just been memorialised in coin format by the Australian Mint!) It's also the title of an episode of Bluey, in which Bingo chooses the weird apricot-coloured, potato-chip-beaked, popcorn-feathered creation that no one ever used to choose, for her fifth birthday cake "because it makes my tail wag". Her dad, Bandit, is then saddled with recreating Duck Cake - "the hardest of all cakes" - while Chilli and Bingo go out. The episode unfolds with him dropping the duck's head but still producing a wonky cake that Bingo loves, and Bluey learning a lesson about helping with cleaning up and what makes her tail wag. This has catapulted Duck Cake into superstardom for many of the younger members of Gen Alpha, including my kids, and I know of plenty of parents who have now had to make Duck Cake - for real life (IYKYK). My four-year-old had been requesting it for an entire year in the lead up to her birthday, and - thinking she would forget by the time her actual birthday rolled around - I kept agreeing that of course she could have Duck Cake if that's what her heart desired. But reader, she did not forget. Which is how I found myself trying to work out how to engineer a duck from cake and icing ahead of her birthday party. Liquorice was the final straw When I told my school mum friends I was making Duck Cake, some of them just laughed. They all demanded photos of the finished product. One offered advice about using a strong buttercream and plenty of skewers. I actually love making cakes for my kids - and have even baked wedding cakes for several people over the years - but as I made this one, I began to see why Chilli and Bandit use "Duck Cake" in place of that other rhyming expletive. It was the fourth trip to the supermarket to find strap liquorice that did it. I'd made it past the Michelangelo-level cake carving of the duck's body, and managed to make a sturdy head and neck which wasn't going to do a Bandit and fall off. (The head did look a bit like ET instead of a duck, but that was okay because the 1980s alien happens to be my four-year-old's favourite character, go figure). I'd made copious amounts of yellow buttercream and spread it over the duck in the fluffy, artful style of the AWW. And then, having been unable to find suitable liquorice at Aldi and Coles, I was trying to make sure the duck's eyes didn't look deranged. I had first tried leaving off the black outline - which made it look very angry and kind of hypnotised. Then I tried drawing on the black circles with chocolate icing paint. But that quickly began melting down all over the duck's face and I had to scrape it off and start again. So off to Woolies to track down liquorice I went. And I had to buy TWO METRES of the vile stuff, even though I needed two 7cm strips to form the perfect black, wide-eyed circles around the orange smarties I used for eyes. Energy flagging, I turned my attention to a packet of crinkle-cut chips, and began sorting them into piles to see if I could select two that would work for a duck's beak. I found the perfect pair, but then broke them in half because I wasn't careful enough shoving them into the icing the first time. Argh. My daughter then wanted to "help" with the popcorn part, which meant I had to pick it off and do it all again once she got bored. Anyway, in the end, I had produced a Duck Cake that was better than Bandit's but probably not quite as good as the AWW. Success! And at my daughter's party it was total hit on two fronts. Because of the Bluey-effect the kids were delighted, and because it's just bloody difficult, the parents were super impressed too. And of course, the beatific smile on my four-year-old's face as we all sang and blew out the candles made my tail wag, maybe even enough that I'll let her choose whichever cake she likes again next year. Voice of Real Australia is a regular newsletter from the local news teams of the ACM network, which stretches into every state and territory. Today's is written by Illawarra Mercury deputy editor Kate McIlwain. Normally, I count myself lucky to be a parent in the age of Bluey, which first screened when my eldest child was six weeks old. Over the past 6.5 years, the show about the two Heeler sisters and their parents has been a constant source of humour and solidarity as I parent my own pair of energetic sisters. Even though I've seen every episode more than once, it's still the show I'll sit down to watch with my kids when it's on. But this year, for the first time, I found myself cursing that small blue dog - or more accurately, her little sister Bingo. The reason? Duck Cake. For the uninitiated, Duck Cake - originally called Rubber Ducky - featured in the pages of the hallowed Women's Weekly Children's Birthday Cake Book, which millennials like me are now inflicting on our children because of the huge role it played in our own childhoods. (It's such a cultural phenomenon that it's just been memorialised in coin format by the Australian Mint!) It's also the title of an episode of Bluey, in which Bingo chooses the weird apricot-coloured, potato-chip-beaked, popcorn-feathered creation that no one ever used to choose, for her fifth birthday cake "because it makes my tail wag". Her dad, Bandit, is then saddled with recreating Duck Cake - "the hardest of all cakes" - while Chilli and Bingo go out. The episode unfolds with him dropping the duck's head but still producing a wonky cake that Bingo loves, and Bluey learning a lesson about helping with cleaning up and what makes her tail wag. This has catapulted Duck Cake into superstardom for many of the younger members of Gen Alpha, including my kids, and I know of plenty of parents who have now had to make Duck Cake - for real life (IYKYK). My four-year-old had been requesting it for an entire year in the lead up to her birthday, and - thinking she would forget by the time her actual birthday rolled around - I kept agreeing that of course she could have Duck Cake if that's what her heart desired. But reader, she did not forget. Which is how I found myself trying to work out how to engineer a duck from cake and icing ahead of her birthday party. Liquorice was the final straw When I told my school mum friends I was making Duck Cake, some of them just laughed. They all demanded photos of the finished product. One offered advice about using a strong buttercream and plenty of skewers. I actually love making cakes for my kids - and have even baked wedding cakes for several people over the years - but as I made this one, I began to see why Chilli and Bandit use "Duck Cake" in place of that other rhyming expletive. It was the fourth trip to the supermarket to find strap liquorice that did it. I'd made it past the Michelangelo-level cake carving of the duck's body, and managed to make a sturdy head and neck which wasn't going to do a Bandit and fall off. (The head did look a bit like ET instead of a duck, but that was okay because the 1980s alien happens to be my four-year-old's favourite character, go figure). I'd made copious amounts of yellow buttercream and spread it over the duck in the fluffy, artful style of the AWW. And then, having been unable to find suitable liquorice at Aldi and Coles, I was trying to make sure the duck's eyes didn't look deranged. I had first tried leaving off the black outline - which made it look very angry and kind of hypnotised. Then I tried drawing on the black circles with chocolate icing paint. But that quickly began melting down all over the duck's face and I had to scrape it off and start again. So off to Woolies to track down liquorice I went. And I had to buy TWO METRES of the vile stuff, even though I needed two 7cm strips to form the perfect black, wide-eyed circles around the orange smarties I used for eyes. Energy flagging, I turned my attention to a packet of crinkle-cut chips, and began sorting them into piles to see if I could select two that would work for a duck's beak. I found the perfect pair, but then broke them in half because I wasn't careful enough shoving them into the icing the first time. Argh. My daughter then wanted to "help" with the popcorn part, which meant I had to pick it off and do it all again once she got bored. Anyway, in the end, I had produced a Duck Cake that was better than Bandit's but probably not quite as good as the AWW. Success! And at my daughter's party it was total hit on two fronts. Because of the Bluey-effect the kids were delighted, and because it's just bloody difficult, the parents were super impressed too. And of course, the beatific smile on my four-year-old's face as we all sang and blew out the candles made my tail wag, maybe even enough that I'll let her choose whichever cake she likes again next year.
The Advertiser
a day ago
- The Advertiser
This is where Aussies are driving amid the great road trip resurgence
Words by Sarah Falson Sarah is ACM's travel producer. She believes regional travel is just as fun (if not better) than staying in the big cities and loves any travel experience to do with nature, animals and food!. My all-time favourite destination is ... Cornwall. From the giant seagulls to the blustery beaches, Cornish pasties and fishing villages, it stirs something romantic and seafaring in me. Next on my bucket list is … Mongolia. I want to go somewhere really unique that feels totally foreign and challenges my way of life. My top travel tip is … Don't plan too much. Walk the streets and let it happen. And make sure you check out what's within a few blocks of your hotel - sometimes the best local food is found that way.
Herald Sun
a day ago
- Business
- Herald Sun
Explorers Podcast: ACM
Stockhead's 'Garimpeiro' columnist Barry FitzGerald is back in the studio for another instalment of The Explorers Podcast. In this edition, Barry catches up with Australian Critical Minerals (ASX:ACM) managing director Dean de Largie, a company which he thinks has a lot of leverage and multiple re-rating events coming on the horizon. Recent news has been the company's acquisition of advanced Peruvian assets which it considered just too good to pass up, and there are other irons in the ACM fire to keep an eye on as the company gets ready over drill-ready targets it believes have exceptional scope for discovery. This podcast was developed in collaboration with Australian Critical Minerals, a Stockhead advertiser at the time of publishing. The interviews and discussions in this podcast are opinions only and not financial or investment advice. Listeners should obtain independent advice based on their own circumstances before making any financial decisions. Originally published as Explorers Podcast: Australian Critical Minerals readies for Peruvian polymetallic perforation
