List of Journal

Whatever else two days of high-octane schmoozing in Washington may have achieved, it has failed, at least as far as the outside world is concerned, to answer one of the great diplomatic riddles of the times.

Which is, what did Benjamin Netanyahu tell Barack Obama in July that convinced the US President that it was worth, first applying fierce pressure on the Palestinian President Mahmoud Abbas to enter direct negotiations with Israel, with a view to achieving a peace deal within a year, and then launching the talks this week in Washington amid such fanfare. The White House has repeatedly made it clear to those who need to know that something was said – but not what it was.

Assuming that this is not mere spin, there is now a reasonable chance not only of solving the riddle but also of testing whether Netanyahu is as good as his word. That test is still to come. The Washington choreography was skilful; the Israeli Prime Minister used some positive language he has not used before; Abbas sought to shed his reservations, at least in public; the talks were given as good a send-off as could be expected.

But as far anyone can tell the meeting did not move the process forward, beyond agreeing to another in mid-September. Even the most urgent issue –that of the imminent end to the partial settlement freeze on 26 September, which Abbas says needs to be renewed if he is to stay in the talks – remains unresolved. It will require all the Americans' ingenuity to find a formula to ensure that the first working meeting on 14-15 September will not also be the last.

But what if that corner is turned, as it may be? The remaining obstacles, which explain why expectations are currently so low, are, of course, all too easy to rehearse; they include the fact that Hamas, excluded from the debate, has already given a glimpse of its potential capacity to destabilise the peace efforts; the unanswered questions about how Gaza, which it controls, could be brought within a putative Palestinian state; the deep opposition of many within the Netanyahu government, never mind outside it, to any division of the land, much less the minimum one the Palestinians could accept; the absence of a figure of Ariel Sharon's standing, in Israeli eyes, to force through the dismantling of settlements – some of them very hard line – that would almost certainly be needed if the deal was done.

That said, no one who was around when the Northern Ireland peace process began amid similarly dismal expectations can wholly rule out the prospect, however remote, that today's cynicism could yet be confounded. True, that process only worked when – unlike the Middle East process – it included the main armed faction; but despite the differences it's presumably his experience in Belfast that helps spur on George Mitchell, the US presidential envoy to the region, despite his 77 years.

So let's suspend disbelief for a moment, turn the argument round for once and approach the July riddle in a different way, by asking what rubicons Netanyahu would have to cross to bring a deal within sight. That isn't unreasonable; he represents massively the stronger of the parties, and the one with the territory to give up.

Moreover, a paradox of Abbas's weak position is that his room for negotiating for more than 22 per cent of the West Bank, with East Jerusalem as its capital, and for some recognition by Israel of responsibility for the displacement of the 1948 refugees, is all the lesser. He has already been castigated by much of the Arab press for selling out – somewhat unfairly since he has conceded nothing yet, beyond agreeing to talk. But this means that even if he agrees a deal that is every bit as good for the Palestinians as the one Arafat would have accepted, he could still find it a lot harder to sell.

drive from www.independent.co.uk

For more than a century, the Hotel Des Bains has loomed over Venice's seafront like an opulent ivory fortress, proudly housing the array of glittering international guests arriving at the city's annual film festival.

Thomas Mann found solace to write there; it is where the ballet impresario Diaghilev retreated to die; and Luchino Visconte made its ballroom the stuff of celluloid legend when he filmed Death in Venice, starring Dirk Bogarde, inside the stately hotel.

So the film industry arriving at the shores of the Lido – the strip of land near mainland Venice where the film festival takes place – had every reason to bemoan the Sheraton Group hotel's closure and its sale to an Italian company which is currently in the process of turning it into an upmarket apartment block.
The historic 200-room hotel, which was built in 1900 with a self-consciously belle epoque design, is scheduled to reopen in around two years. Variety magazine called the closure – which was met with dismay by festival-goers unaware of the hotel's fate – "the end of an era". The report pointed out that the "Palladian hotel with its terrace, big pool and ballroom... was the choice place to stay."

Industry insiders reflected sadly that the closure of the Hotel Des Bains could alter the dynamic of the festival in years to come. The hotel, one of only two on the Lido (the other being the Excelsior) considered good enough to accommodate the world's acting talent when they descend upon to Venice, has already prompted some to book into hotels in other parts of the city.

Quentin Tarantino, the US film director and chair of the jury, is believed to be staying at the Danieli Hotel on the mainland, a short water-taxi ride away from the festival. Actresses such as Natalie Portman, Catherine Deneuve and the American director Sophia Coppola are also believed to be staying at luxury mainland hotels, such as the Cipriani and the Gritti Palace.

The flow of water-taxis across the lagoon has been improved to encourage easy access. One industry insider said the closure of the Hotel Des Bains left few options for celebrities to stay close to the festival. "The Excelsior is a place of business for journalists and sales and marketing executives. We're all going to be squashed on its terrace now," they said.

drive from www.independent.co.uk

The Great British Summer has finally arrived in all its gold-hued, ice-cold-beer swilling, barbecuing glory. As we swoon, swelter and roast in temperatures above 31 degrees in some parts of the country, the traditional signals of the basting season arrived this week – a hosepipe ban and government warnings about mad dogs and people burning themselves in the midday sun.

As thoughts of grey skies and unseasonal storms vanished and the warm weather spread a sense of goodwill, along came the Met Office and the Health Protection Agency with warnings for the young and the elderly to take extra care.

Yvonne Doyle, regional director of public health and the Government's heatwave adviser, said: "Younger people see the hot weather as a cause for celebration, tanning and barbeques – but for older people and those with long-term health problems, it can be very serious and cause unnecessary deaths."

So, stock up on cool drinks – water is best – and prepare a cool room in the house. Apply sun cream and avoid leaving pets in the car.

The NHS advises staying in the coolest rooms of the house as much as possible, spraying or splashing faces and the backs of necks with cold water several times a day, and wearing loose, cotton clothes. Fortunately, the forecasters predict that temperatures will start to cool tomorrow.

drive from www.independent.co.uk

My advice to Mikel Arteta would be to make his announcement without delay. Do it swiftly and decisively and leave no room for debate lest he finds himself playing in a team with no hope in front of an ungrateful nation. There is simply nothing else for it: he has to retire from playing international football for England as soon as possible.

OK, so Arteta has never actually been picked in a squad, much less been named in the team. He does not actually have a British passport yet. But you can never be too careful. Paul Scholes, Jamie Carragher, Wes Brown, Emile Heskey, Paul Robinson, Wayne Bridge and Luke Young have all already retired. Why should Arteta have to help out? He is, after all, not even English.

Sadly, the issue of Arteta and his eligibility to play for England looks like it has the potential to turn into an uncomfortable experience for the man himself whether he ever plays for England or not. He has become the test case for a new frontier in the England national team – the naturalising of foreign nationals – and as is often the way in these landmark cases, while the principle is debated the individual tends to get forgotten.

For example, Jean-Marc Bosman's successful legal battle for contract freedom in 1995 was the precedent that launched a thousand free transfers. The Bosman ruling was the basis for the lucrative deals enjoyed by the likes of Sol Campbell, Steve McManaman and Joe Cole when they cashed in on their free-agent status. But for Bosman himself, an average Belgian footballer, there were not the rewards enjoyed by those famous players who benefited from his tenacity in the European courts.

For his troubles, Bosman suffered from depression and alcoholism – not helped by the fact that during the case he was so poor that he lived in a garage. No one would expect Arteta, having played five years at Everton on a Premier League wage, to end up sleeping in his car. But he must be wondering if being the guinea pig for a controversial new chapter in the life of the England team is worth the hassle.

The conversation about playing for England that Fabio Capello had with Arteta, 28, at Goodison Park after the Wolves game on 21 August has the potential to change English football for ever. Capello may not be worried about what happens beyond qualifying for Euro 2012. But for the England team and Arteta the implications are huge.

It goes without saying that an individual who is qualified to do a job, and has the necessary immigration status, should never be prevented from doing so on the basis of their place of birth or background. That is how it works in the real world. International football, however, is, by its very nature, completely different.

International football is, by necessity, an exclusive business. Our best against their best. The whole point of it – what makes it interesting – is the simplicity of the international dividing line. Once you blur that, then international football becomes no different to the club football we watch the rest of the time.

It would be too simple to say a player can only represent the country of his or his parents' birth. Patrick Vieira was born in Senegal of Senegalese parents but, having moved to France at the age of eight, he felt French. Fabrice Muamba was born in what is now DR Congo, came to England as a child and has played for the England Under-21s. Luol Deng, the star of the Great Britain basketball team, was born Sudanese but grew up in south London.

It is to be applauded that Fifa's rules – which allow a player to represent a country provided he has been resident there for five years before the age of 18 – reflect the reality that immigration from the developing world to Europe is so commonplace. When assessing a player's nationality it is too simple to consult family trees and birthplaces. The question of identity and nationality runs much deeper than that.

drive from www.independent.co.uk

The British National Party faces a financial and political crisis with crippling debts and an internal rebellion which could spell the end of the far-right group as a significant electoral force.

The party has a deficit of at least £500,000 and could face up to 12 claims of unfair dismissal from workers who lost their jobs following the BNP's disastrous showing in the May elections.

A pledge by party leader Nick Griffin to step down in 2013 has failed to quell a growing revolt in the anti-immigrant party which has been hit by a series of high-profile resignations, including its legal officer and its sole representative on the London Assembly. A permanent schism in the far right has been made more likely by the formation of a BNP splinter faction where the founding of a new party has been openly discussed. This month the party leadership sent letters to a group of 20 BNP members, including its former national elections officer, Eddy Butler, banning them from a post-election rally with Nick Griffin to discuss its future.

Lee Barnes, the party's senior legal adviser until he resigned this month, yesterday described the BNP as a "dead brand" and claimed it was "technically insolvent". The Electoral Commission confirmed the BNP's latest annual accounts, due last month, have not been submitted and it is still investigating the previous year's records after auditors refused to sign them off.

The spiralling fortunes of the party come as its extremist rivals, the anti-Islamic English Defence League, plans a show of strength today in Bradford, home to one of Britain's largest Muslim communities. West Yorkshire Police are putting extra officers on the city's streets amid warnings that several thousand people could attend the protest and a counter-demonstration by Unite Against Fascism.

Anti-extremist campaigners said the combination of financial difficulties and schism within the far right were proving a toxic combination for Mr Griffin, who earlier this month survived an attempt to force a leadership ballot. Sonia Gable, of the anti-fascist magazine Searchlight, said: "The BNP is in deep financial trouble, with debts it can never pay, and in the throes of its most serious internal political crisis since Nick Griffin became leader.

"Although most of his critics are aware of the strength of the BNP brand name and still hope to reform the party from within, the absence of any means of doing so in the face of Griffin's powers could yet result in the party's destruction as an electoral force."

The Independent understands that the BNP, which predicted a "political earthquake" at the general election but suffered a comprehensive reversal by losing all but two of its 28 sitting councillors, is mired in outstanding debts to a succession of suppliers, including the Royal Mail, and allegedly owes money to settle an employment tribunal case brought by its former chief administrator.

One senior BNP figure claimed the scale of the deficit is closer to £600,000 and said the party cannot find a bank willing to re-finance its debt, which is also being increased by the cost of fighting legal actions against Unilever, after the BNP used an image of a Marmite jar in an election broadcast, and the Equality and Human Rights Commission (EHRC) over the party's alleged failure to change its constitution to allow non-white members.

The source said: "We will fight this but the pressures are mounting. There is a sound of rats abandoning the ship and it does not look good for us to be doing our dirty washing in public. The next two months will decide whether we survive as a serious presence."

drive from www.independent.co.uk

'I was living with this constant fear that I would be dead in three months," says Mark. The 32-year-old from Manchester had a pain in his lungs and immediately suspected advanced lung cancer. It became, he says, "an obsession". His GP was certain it wasn't cancer, but Mark couldn't stop thinking about it. He returned to his doctor several times, eventually persuading him to arrange a scan at the hospital. This too showed he didn't have the disease. Eventually Mark realised what he was suffering from was not lung cancer, but health anxiety.

Catherine O'Neill, services manager at the helpline charity Anxiety UK, says the disorder "is one of the things we get most calls about. The common fears are HIV, cancer and illnesses at the more severe end of the spectrum. Quite often, we get people who nursed someone through cancer and they become preoccupied with the thought that they have the disease too, or it develops because they have heard or read about someone with the illness."

Health anxiety is characterised by the excessive seeking of reassurance, from doctors or from family members. "What we always tell people on our helpline is that reassurance doesn't work," says O'Neill. "I have seen people who have convinced themselves they have a brain tumour – they go to their GP, they go for scans. When they are reassured they don't have a tumour, they still think what if they missed it? What if it was too small to see? What if this is one of those NHS mistakes? Because the media highlights it so much when things do go wrong, it feeds the feeling in people with health anxiety that 'I could be the one that it goes wrong for'. People ring up and ask, 'Do you think I've got cancer?' I can't offer that reassurance because how would I know? But we do know that reassurance only works in the short term. It isn't long before those fears return."

Another problem, O'Neill says, is that health anxiety – which used to be called hypochondria – is not taken seriously. "It can be seen as a bit of a joke, but it can have a serious impact on someone's life."

Mark agrees. "When you're in the grip of it, it can be terrifying. It affects all aspects of your life – your work, your relationships – because you can't think about anything else, and you're living with this expectation of impending death."

According to Professor Peter Tyrer, head of the centre for mental health at Imperial College London, "about 1-2% of the population have pathological health anxiety", and in people who have already had treatment for a condition, it can be around 10%. He thinks the number of people affected is rising.

The internet, he says, is one reason. "Everyone looks up their symptoms, but the internet tells you everything and nothing." O'Neill agrees: "Type in flu symptoms and you will be able to find a huge range of diseases from a common cold to the early stages of an HIV infection."

Several studies have shown that cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT), which aims to change thought patterns and behaviour, can reduce the symptoms and hospital appointments. But waiting lists on the NHS can be long in some areas, and the therapy is not widespread. Tyrer is now leading a study of 448 people with health anxiety who are being treated in five hospitals. Treatment takes place in hospital clinics that deal with the illness the sufferer feels they have - such as cardiology or neurology clinics. "If you say, 'We want you to see a psychologist or psychiatrist' they say, 'I'm physically ill, not mentally ill'. So they are treated by general nurses who have been trained in this technique."

drive from www.guardian.co.uk

For a star of his magnitude, once the singer in the biggest band on the planet, frontman of the only group to seriously challenge the Rolling Stones' perennial claim on being the raunchiest of rockers, Robert Plant has managed to retain an admirably down-to-earth attitude to life. Matey and approachable in circumstances to which most stars react with bristling petulance, Plant seems to have mellowed well with age – as too has his music, which, over the years, has developed a burnished grain and texture comparable to that of the folk and blues heroes who originally inspired him to pick up what he calls "the great flaming torch of rock'n'roll" and run with it.

These days, he's more fascinated with the acoustic subtleties of North African scales and North American harmonies than with the bludgeoning power of electric blues-based rock music. Indeed, when Plant went to see his former Led Zeppelin bandmate John Paul Jones's new rock supergroup Them Crooked Vultures at the Royal Albert Hall a few months back, he admits his ears "bled for two days" after the sonic assault. "But I feel so far away from heavy rock now," he reflects. "It's quite odd, how mine and John's paths seem to have crossed over – we've sort of gone into each others' worlds a bit."

It's an intriguing development, and one which could hardly have been foreseen during Plant's tenure with Led Zeppelin, when his falsetto shrieks and erotic double entendres combined with Jimmy Page's steamroller riffs to effectively invent the heavy rock grammar. Founded in the late 1960s, initially as The New Yardbirds – an attempt to glean some publicity from Jimmy Page's status as the last of The Yardbirds' stellar guitarists – Led Zeppelin were an alliance of extraordinary talents. Bass-player John Paul Jones, like Page, was a veteran session musician whose facility with keyboards and as an arranger would help furnish some of the textural depth that set Zeppelin apart from their peers. John Bonham, a friend of Plant's from the Midlands heartland of heavy rock, was perhaps rock's greatest powerhouse drummer, eschewing the fussy jazz filigree of such as Cream's Ginger Baker and Jimi Hendrix Experience's Mitch Mitchell in favour of a crunching, dynamic rhythmic undercarriage that was strong enough to carry the heaviest of riffs.

Jimmy Page himself was a dazzling technician with a questing, experimental spirit: even at the band's earliest shows, he was playing guitar with a bow, and incorporating a small Theremin to broaden the sonic palette with outlandish electronic effects. I vividly recall seeing the band in its infancy at Nottingham's Boat Club, where, despite packing as many decibels as groups like Earth (later Black Sabbath) and Free, the massive riff-driven songs boasted a superior finesse and subtlety which has rarely been equalled by later generations of heavy rockers.

drive from www.independent.co.uk

For turophobics, it is a new and rather pongy circle of hell. In fact, even for those without the (admittedly rare) fear of cheese, the smorgasbord of nearly 100 fromages, sourced in Lyon and shipped weekly, is the stuff of nightmares.

The inebriating whiff of Roquefort draws one to the door of L'Art Du Fromage, the first speciality cheese restaurant in Britain. The menu is built around cheese-based dishes: there are fondues, raclettes, a glorified version of cheese on toast and even cheese ice cream. One of the few dishes not to arrive with cheese are the snails. Because that would just be wrong.

Step inside and Julien Ledogar clutches a wedge of Le Marechal to the light, for inspection. "This is the first cheese that I fell in love with!" declares the co-proprietor.
Mr Ledogar and his business partner Jean-Charles Madenspacher, who are both 24, have left their village outside Strasbourg, Alsace, to move to the UK. Their mission: to banish the British obsession with mild cheddar and ignite an altogether fierier relationship with aged milk curd.

Their restaurant, off London's King's Road, near Chelsea, has just opened for business. Experts believe they could have a battle on their hands. Cheese has traditionally failed to capture the imagination in the UK beyond the dinner party set. "Much of this is down to the running order of the traditional British meal," says Bob Farrand, chairman of the Guild of Fine Food and author of The Cheese Handbook. "In France, it comes before the pudding. In Spain, it's accompanied by tapas before the meal. In Britain it's stuck in a limbo – after pudding, if at all, where most diners barely have any appetite left."

Indeed, yesterday, it transpired that the sole debonair couple tucking into their cheeseboard lunch at L'Art Du Fromage were actually French relatives of the proprietors. But Mr Ledogar is convinced that things are changing. "The English are naturally nervous about trying new things," he says, citing the cheese ice cream offer which initially made diners recoil in horror. A few big reviews later and it's now a favourite. "Someone just needs to give the green light and then everyone follows."

Unsurprisingly, cheddar has missed the cut. Instead, the cheeseboard offers Roquefort (replete with the Penicillium roqueforti fungus and its "healing properties") and Langres (bathed in Champagne). One of the dearest, the Salers de Buron, emerges from an awkward production process. "The trick is to convince the cow that it is feeding her calf not a farmer," explains Mr Ledogar. "So you carefully remove the calf from the udder and continue extracting the milk while maintaining the illusion that the baby is still there." Running a cheese restaurant is a fiddly business too: after opening all windows and doors every morning, a deep clean begins.

drive from www.independent.co.uk

Once again the A level results have been flooding in and everybody in the country has got three A stars. Everybody that is, save for a tiny few who only receive two A stars and a solitary, humbling A (no star).
What are these losers to do? It's obvious – find an obscure subject to "study" and try to persuade your college of choice that it's what you alawys wanted to do.
A phone rings.
"Hello, college dean of admissions speaking."
"Yes, hello... I've just got my results and I would like to come to your college please."
"What's your name?"
"My name is Humphrey."
"Well now, Humphrey – you didn't get a star on your third A grade so there's no way that you can come here to study Classics as you requested. I'm so sorry."
"Yes... I understand that... the thing is, I don't want to study Classics any more."
"Oh? What is it that you do want to read then?"
"I want to read sport."
"SPORT?"
"Yes... I'm really interested in reading sport."
"Oh, are you now?"
"Yes... I was a little drunk when I filled out my form. It's actually sport I've always been really interested in – Classics is rubbish."
"Right... what area of sport are you interested in studying?"
"Oh... every area... football... cricket... croquet... the lot really."
"The lot... you do understand that sports studies are not some silly made-up degree... it's a serious field of education."
"Oh yes... definitely... that's why I'm so passionate about it."
"What particular angle do you think you might specialise in?"
"Uuuhhhmmm... what particular angle might I specialise in?"
"Stop repeating what I say and answer the question."
"Sure... the particular angle I might specialise in might be, uuuhhhmmm, the relationship between sportsmen and, uuuhhhmmm, the sedentary spectator."
"You mean people watching sport on the television?"
"Yes... I think that the detached nature of the relationship mixed with the contrasting lethargy of the spectator as opposed to the effort made by the actual sportsmen and women is worth exploring."

drive from www.independent.co.uk

Australia faces an almost unprecedented period of political uncertainty, after the tightest election in decades failed to produce a clear winner and left the two main parties courting a handful of independent and Green MPs.

A handful of seats will remain in doubt for several days, but it was clear within hours of the polls closing that neither Julia Gillard's ruling Labor Party nor Tony Abbott's conservative Coalition could secure a majority in the House of Representatives. The two leaders scrambled yesterday to sweet-talk the four independents and one Green MP who could help them form a minority government.

Not since 1940 has Australia had a hung parliament at national level, and political analysts say the limbo could continue for up to a fortnight. During that time, postal and early votes will be counted, and the horse-trading will continue. If no deal is struck, there would have to be fresh elections. That is widely regarded as unlikely, but observers say any minority government will probably be short-lived: it would either become paralysed, or the ruling party would call an election to seek a stronger mandate as soon as its poll ratings lifted. David Burchell, of the University of Western Sydney, described a hung parliament as the "nightmare scenario we all feared", and predicted a minority government would last no longer than 18 months.
"Neither [party] will be able to pass a significant body of legislation other than budget Bills," he said. "They would have to be negotiating with the independents and minorities – or most of them – probably every single time, and Los Angeles-style gridlock is what would result."

The election outcome was a slap in the face for Labor, which dumped its leader, Kevin Rudd, two months ago after a plunge in popularity. Two-thirds of its losses were to the Greens, a reflection of voter anger at Labor for shelving an emissions trading scheme. The Greens won their first seat in the House of Representatives and will also control the balance of power in the Senate, the upper house.

Ms Gillard and Mr Abbott each claimed to have a superior right to lead a minority government. The former noted that Labor had won the popular vote, which she said was "a critical factor to weigh in the coming days".

But Mr Abbott said the "savage swing" against Labor – 5.4 per cent nationally – was evidence that Australians wanted a change of government. "It's certain that any Labor government will be chronically divided and dysfunctional," he said.

Their respective fates are now in the hands of a disparate group of politicians who would normally wield little influence in parliament. And while the Greens' MP, Adam Bandt, has already indicated a preference for Labor, three of the independents (who all represent rural constituencies) come from conservative backgrounds, though analysts say they could jump either way.

drive from www.independent.co.uk