Ruby Kitchen

An investigation with citizen science, laying bare the horrors of Britain's blue waters. Riding the buses, just because. And reflections on an ageing seaside resort, with attempts to gentrify.

These aren't hard hitting, gasp-inducing reports. Rather it's slow journalism, often over several weeks. Thorough, and with incredible access, because people trust us to tell the tale right. And this is a kind of journalism that's increasingly rare, dedicating a resource to thoughtful conversations. I'm a specialist reporter with The Yorkshire Post, covering any wealth of heritage and culture. Mostly it's about talking to passionate people, because they're incredible. And each of these stories, I hope, taps into these seams of strong feeling.

This first story is a special report into river pollution. It began with a chance encounter, coming across a keen geography student with a bucket on a stick. It soon led to my joining teams of citizen scientists, academics and fishermen over several weeks as they unravelled a worrying backbone of evidence uncharted elsewhere. It can be hard to capture an imprint, when that is in a rising tide of resentment. The impact, when the many thousands of words were finally published, was incredible. As ripples spread across social media Feargal Sharkey, leading Britain's campaign, asked: "Is the @yorkshirepost the greatest newspaper in the country? Pretty damned close I'd say." In the midst of war, and in the wake of a pandemic, there have been few stories perhaps that were just lovely to get lost in. Riding the buses for £2 was supposed to be an adventure, a day trip to see how far I could travel. Soon, we were counting the queues. This story hit home - incredibly so. All 80 of North Yorkshire's under-threat bus routes have since been saved by the scale of the £2 scheme. There were queues at the bus stations, stretching out the door. New routes have been added. And when it comes to readership, as an indicator, the video that accompanied this article has been viewed more than 36,000 times. That's almost 500 hours of someone sat watching. The final colour write I've included because I think some of the best bits about regional journalism are in the ordinary stories, the bread and butter reports. A worthy council story, that might be dull as dishwater, but doesn't have to be. That instead, with careful reflection, paints a portrait of a pendulum moment in time. The contrast is with a fresh lens and doing things differently. And it's about trust - opening the doors backstage, say, to a penny arcade.

Ultimately, this kind of slow journalism is increasingly rare. It's about the kinds of conversations that strike a nerve. It's holding up a mirror, to ask if we like what we're seeing. Then distilling an essence of the emotion that provokes. And if a community could be measured in the richness of such threads, then it's a privilege to be invited in.