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This is the year of the , or so we're told. As the recession bites ever harder, millions more Britons are holidaying in the UK this year.

Chances are most of these holidays will include a trip to one of the more than 1,100 designated around the coastline to enjoy a refreshing dip in the sea or some quality time on golden sand.

However, the cleanliness of these bathing waters has long been a concern and a story that Panorama covered more than 50 years ago. A story that helped bring about the creation of one of the first environmental campaigns dedicated to the issue of coastal pollution.

In 1957, the tragic death of a six-year-old girl, Caroline Wakefield, from water-borne polio contracted after bathing in sewage polluted water off the south coast brought the issue to the forefront of public consciousness.

It was as a response to the lack of public knowledge about polluted water that Caroline's parents began a campaign that saw the creation of the Coastal Anti-Pollution League (CAPL).

CAPL was perhaps most noted for creating the Golden List of Beaches, forerunner of today's Good Beach Guide.

It was incorporated into the later-established Marine Conservation Society.

The Wakefield family's tragic story helped create a legacy of awareness and activism which still holds sway today.

Perhaps, the most startling difference between 1957 and today is that several of the characters in local government who spoke to Panorama saw no real problem in coastal towns simply disposing of untreated sewage directly into the sea.

They certainly felt that it was not an issue that was worth spending money on addressing and it was to counter this attitude that CAPL was established.

The CAPL campaign certainly had an effect in changing public opinion - scientific understanding grew and questions were tabled in the House of Commons.

However, it took the more widespread rise in environmentalism of the 1970s and the 1976 directive to really bring about an improvement in the water quality around the UK's coastlines.

To check on the current state of Britain's beaches we'll be revisiting this topic again in next week's Panorama: "Britain's Dirty Beaches'.

Panorama have returned to West Africa to once again pick up the trail of migrants who are willing to risk everything for the chance of a new life in Europe.

Following on from my work in Destination Europe in September 2007 and Destination UK in January 2008, I have kept a travel log of the team's experiences.

Over the weeks leading up to our programme, scheduled for Monday, 14 September on ´óÏó´«Ã½ One, I will continue to blog about everything from the palpable emotion of a cave that was once used to process slaves being shipped to America, to the intrigue of introducing a group of small children to the myriad intricacies of satellite links, to the delicate negotiations of dangerous border crossings.

Niamey, Niger

This is where thousands of migrants converge every year before making their way to the sand city of Agadez and across the Sahara.

The road to Agadez requires a military escort. So, we decide to fly. First we film in the sweltering bus station. The migrants sleep on the dust, waiting for the five o'clock departure.

I want to travel with them, but we decide there is too great a risk of kidnap. Niger is where a British tourist was snatched last year, before being taken into Mali, sold onto a gang connected to al-Qaeda, and executed.

We meet a Niger businessman in the hotel. When I mention we are going to Agadez he says we must be mad. His view is shared by several others.

We phone Medicine Sans Frontiers, the voluntary medical aid charity, who have a representative there. He tells me the town is safe.

The rebels have come to an agreement with the government and there has been a ceasefire for some weeks.

But we are still concerned about kidnap. We spend an uncomfortable evening debating the dangers.

The fear comes and goes like the tide. At times the threat seems minimal. I'm raring to go.

Then, the confidence evaporates, and I'm left with dark images of being separated from the others and driven against my will across the desert. Then our fixer, the man we have been relying on in Niger, announces he can no longer make the journey to Agadez.

The ´óÏó´«Ã½ in London tells us to pull out, we can go no further.

Following on from this week's programme on the removal of residential wardens from sheltered housing across the country, Panorama's offered this update:

Elderly people in sheltered housing aren't just going on protest marches -
they're going to law as well.

Aided by solicitor Yvonne Hossack, Joan Garbet from Eastbourne has mounted a test case to see if the decision by her housing association, Circle 33, which took away her residential warden this year, can be declared unlawful by the Administrative Division of the High Court.

Two arguments have been presented - that the housing association is a "public body" and is therefore subject to this type of challenge; and that her tenancy agreement - which explicitly provided for a resident warden - yet allowed, in the small print, for the management to make changes, which they say, justified their move to so-called "floating support" instead - was an "unfair contract" which cannot stand.

Mr Justice Munby is expected to give his ruling in the case in October, in the Autumn legal term.

Meanwhile, with the same solicitor's help, groups of residents in the London borough of Barnet are also planning to go to the High Court, to challenge its decision, made on 8 June, to get rid of its present system of residential wardens, both in its own properties and in those managed on its behalf by housing associations.

They must make their submission to the court within three months of the council's decision - and if they do, the plan would be to ask the court to "conjoin" - or include - similar challenges to councils and housing associations acting on their behalf elsewhere.

You can read more about Panorama's here and find out more about the issue from Help the Aged and Age Concern's

The Panorama team will aim to keep you posted on the progress of the court action.

Last night, revellers in Oldham may have had some cold water thrown over A-level results celebrations after the . The problem? Drinks promotions including buy-one-get-one-free.

As Panorama recently discovered when visiting Oldham for The Truth About Happy Hour, the council there are working hard to tackle binge drinking which it blames for a 200% increase in serious violent incidents in the first four months of this year. That's a stabbing or an assault with intention to kill on average every Friday and Saturday night in Oldham's main drinking area, York Street.

But Oldham's tough tactics, and Panorama's treatment of them, has drawn criticism in the blogosphere where the age-old debate over freedom from versus freedom to is raging.

Comments left on a blog launched straight in to defend freedom to, with one post saying "Anyone claiming to be a liberal should be denouncing these plans. The council has NO RIGHT to violate private businesses like this."

Another argued that one man's freedom can restrict another's saying, "What RIGHT do the businesses in question have in creating public disorder by selling alcohol at knock-down prices and then unleashing dysfunctional, drunk and violent people into the public streets?", asked another poster.

The very real dangers people face from random drunken attacks can be seen here:

Accusations of a nanny state are made loudly on : "If you wish to nanny, expect children," he says stating that people like to get drunk. He goes on to argue that current licensing laws play into the hands of big companies and drink promoters by pricing smaller, independent establishments out of the market.

A blogger argues that not everyone is looking to binge and that in fact people are prepared to pay more for alcohol to guarantee a nicer atmosphere and better service.

acknowledges the variety of clientele who go out to drink defending traditional pubs and accusing Panorama of having "an obsession with binge drinking."

In any case, it is an issue that seems to have struck a chord with David Cameron who this week unveiled

Panorama have returned to West Africa to once again pick up the trail of migrants who are willing to risk everything for the chance of a new life in Europe.

Following on from my work in Destination Europe in September 2007 and Destination UK in January 2008, I have kept a travel log of the team's experiences.

Over the weeks leading up to our programme, I will continue to blog about everything from the palpable emotion of a cave that was once used to process slaves being shipped to America, to the intrigue of introducing a group of small children to the myriad intricacies of satellite links, to the delicate negotiations of dangerous border crossings.

Crossing the border into Niger

The trees become stunted, and the road has the kind of heat haze they use in adverts for beer or jeans, or for horror films about men with leather faces and chainsaws.

There are bush taxis piled high with cases and cardboard crates. Some have tethered goats to the top which lean into the wind.

We reach the border as night is falling. The first job is to get out of Burkina. There's another string drawn across the road, and two men with guns. I go into the hut with a confident smile and throw around a few French words, whilst the guard inspects my passport. Then there's some shouting outside.

They've spotted the camera and want it inspected immediately. They accuse us of using it to film them. We say it is possible they are in a shot because the crew were filming when we approached the border, and the guards may have been in the background. They say they will keep the camera and the tape.

We phone our fixer who is 20 miles away, waiting for us across the border in Niger. He jumps in a car and makes his way towards us. It is two hours now since we were stopped, the insects are bumping into the guard's hut and into my head. When the fixer arrives, we assume all will be well. No-one has eaten all day, and we have run out of water.

The fixer calls for the boss. A benevolent looking man emerges out of the dark. There are lengthy conversations. He wants $100. We hand it over. Then, we climb back into the vehicle relieved the whole sorry mess is over.

But another guard runs over and says the boss has changed his mind. We can't leave after all. Despite the bribe. "Where is he now?" we ask, "we need to speak to him."

"The boss has gone home" comes the response, "he will return tomorrow."

Staying the night on this sandy remote border didn't appeal. There were further heated conversations. An hour later the boss emerged from the dark once again, now accompanied by the smell of alcohol and slightly unsteady on his feet.

He announced he'd changed his mind, he couldn't let us through and we would have to wait all night.

Our Ghanaian driver was perplexed. "At least the police in Ghana are honest" he said "when they take a bribe from you, they always let you go."

It was five hours after arriving at the border that we were allowed through into Niger.

Next time, we are forced to weigh the risks of the upcoming leg of our journey.

Panorama have returned to West Africa to once again pick up the trail of migrants who are willing to risk everything for the chance of a new life in Europe.

Following on from my work in Destination Europe in September 2007 and Destination UK in January 2008, I have kept a travel log of the team's experiences.

In the coming weeks, I will be blogging about everything from the palpable emotion of a cave that was once used to process slaves being shipped to America, to the intrigue of introducing a group of small children to the myriad intricacies of satellite links, to the need to forego air conditioning for the sake of the camera.

Across the border into Burkina Faso and onwards to the capital, Ouagadougou.

Another roasting journey in the car. I always seem to end up in the middle, with nowhere to rest my head.

The border point is an orange dust track with a piece of string hanging between two sticks of wood. The guards give our luggage a good going over.

"Guns" they keep saying, "people smuggle guns through here."

Beyond the border is a dried river bed, and a small bridge where I do a quick piece to camera.

Then, there's the entry point into Burkina Faso. We are led into a small hut and invited to sit opposite the boss on a wooden bench. Our driver had forgotten his passport.

"You can't come in, you can leave your car here with these English, and go home." He spends some time examining the other passports, and then I lean over and tell him how remorseful our driver is, what a fool he has been, and how he will never be so forgetful again. The boss is good enough to let him through.

The countryside changes almost imperceptibly from rainforest to savannah. The roads are empty.

Ougadougou is dark when we arrive. There are roadside fires, chickens and goats, rattling cars and spewing trucks. The hot air is still. We have no map. We decide to flag down a taxi so that it can lead our 4X4 to the hotel. A quick survey of my colleagues reveals my 'O' level French qualifies me as the communicator.

I swagger over to the taxi and he waits for me to speak. I have a repertoire of perhaps 20 words. I just need to tell him that he should go to the hotel, and our car will follow.
"Follow" is the problem. It is not one of my 20 words.

"La voiture," I say, pointing at our vehicle "est derriere votre voiture."

He fires a hundred words at me. Sign language and mime are the only way to sort things out.

We arrive at the hotel after 11pm, and have eaten nothing all day. They agree to keep the kitchen open.

The following day we go to the bus station to film migrants gathering for the next step of the journey. I try to explain that we want to film the bus leaving for Niger, but everyone thinks I'm saying I want to catch the next bus to Niger. They keep taking me to the ticket office.

Next time, read about the challenges involved in convincing the border guards at Niger to let us in.

Panorama have returned to West Africa to once again pick up the trail of migrants who are willing to risk everything for the chance of a new life in Europe.

Following on from my work in Destination Europe in September 2007 and Destination UK in January 2008, I have kept a travel log of the team's experiences.

In the coming weeks, I will be blogging about everything from the palpable emotion of a cave that was once used to process slaves being shipped to America, to the intrigue of introducing a group of small children to the myriad intricacies of satellite links, to the need to forego air conditioning for the sake of the camera.

Northwards to the town of Tamale.

Eight hours in the car with my producer, cameraman, local fixer and driver. Yes, it has air-con but, no, we can't use it. You know why? Because if the camera is cool and then we decide to leap out and film, then it will steam up like a bathroom mirror in the heat and Joe the cameraman won't be able to see anything through the lens and will spend 20 minutes grumbling. So, just in case that happens, we go with no air-con.

We arrive at 11pm in Tamale. We are hot, bickering and hungry. There are two decent rooms at the hotel. They go to the producer ("I'm the boss") and cameraman ("I need the space for all my gear") and I'm led to an outhouse which is not quite in their league. Sticky carpets and plenty of mossies.

There's only one place in town still open for food. We have omelettes (safest thing on the menu) and local beer.

I then remind the crew that this is where a tribal king was decapitated in 2005. It involved some complex local power feud, which came to a head on the day of the fire festival. The king was stabbed and then his head was cut off and stuck on a pole which was paraded around town. I ask the waiter for his views on the event. He says he's not allowed to talk about it. Twenty minutes later he's still talking and our omelettes are cold.

I have vivid bad dreams, fuelled by the local brew, malaria tablets and a grizzly account of men with sharp knives.

Tomorrow it is back in the hot car for the next leg on a journey to trace the route taken by the migrants who risk all as they attempt to reach what they hope is a better life in Europe.