Coal power is dirty – but abandoned mines could help create a clean energy future

Pushing on into a bright future: the Old Meadows Coal Mine, Bacup, Lancashire, 1936. Image: Hulton Archive/Getty.

Energy from coal is now being linked to global warming and pollution on a global level. In fact, it has been estimated that coal contributes to 25 per cent of green house gases.

Coal use has caused severe negative environmental impacts, from its mining and processing, to its transportation and combustion, leading to high levels of pollution. In October 2017, a United Nations weather agency report indicated that levels of carbon dioxide surged at “record-breaking speed” compared to 2016.

Around the world, coal mining contributed historically to the industrial revolution and played an important part in the development of modern society. But many mines have since been closed in the UK and Europe. In the UK, this led to hard financial times and unemployment in many communities, including the miners’ strikes of the 1970s and 1980s, an impact recorded in the 1996 movie Brassed Off.

But what happens inside the coalmines after their closure? Surprisingly, most disused coalmines start producing methane – known as Coal Mine Methane (CMM) – which can be a clean source of energy. It can be used to generate electricity via gas engines or, with some technical processing, be fed into the gas grid. Over time, however, the mines will begin to fill with water and the methane will almost entirely disappear.

Water, water everywhere

But this will create yet another opportunity. The UK’s historic coal mines have an approximate residual void space of a billion cubic metres. When flooded, that’s the equivalent of 400,000 Olympic swimming pools of water at a stable temperature. This vast volume of water can be used for efficient heating and cooling applications and reduce carbon emissions.

But how? A recent publication by the team at Nottingham Trent University explains. The water in the coalmines is generally at a stable temperature – normally between 12C and 20C depending on the location – which makes it perfect for warming, or cooling, buildings or industrial processes.

We developed and tested a new technology for several years using two systems, one at Markham Vale and one at the National Coal Mining Museum for England, and found it can use this water to provide green, sustainable energy to homes and businesses in the UK.


Opportunities and challenges

The technology, which is based on using water source heat pumps, is simple and straightforward and works along similar lines to a refrigerator or air-conditioning system. It produces no noise or local air pollution and is also three or four times more efficient than a standard electric heater or gas boiler.

To understand how heat pumps in general work, consider the refrigerator in your kitchen. This extracts the heat from the food and drinks inside it, and diverts it into the surrounding environment via a condenser (which is simply a radiator) on the fridge’s exterior. Our technology employs a similar system. In this case, we extract the heat from the coalmine water and use it to warm buildings.

In the UK, coal mining technology programmes already pump nearly 112m megalitres of water for environmental reasons, such as avoiding the pollution of drinking water, springs and rivers. The new technology could use this water, which is being pumped anyway, potentially generating 63 megawatts of heat per year.

But the technology has its own challenges, specifically a lack of investment and “champion” organisations to lead the process. In part, this is because it remains a little-known or understood technology by many investors.

There is also a lack of a clear model to follow in the UK when implementing new technologies such as this, not just commercially, but contractually and legally as well. Most housing developers in the UK and Europe, for example, prefer to rely on well-established technologies such as gas boilers or electric heaters, even in areas where coalmines are available. If such new, green technologies are to succeed, comprehensive strategies are needed to get developers – and the general public – on board.

Hot topic

On the positive side, the technology can be integrated with other heating technologies, and in many cases existing building infrastructure can be used to implement it. The technology can also reduce carbon emissions and energy use and support compliance with the EU Energy Efficiency Directive and UK ESOS regulations.

We also have excellent, large-scale case studies, showing how effective it can be. In Asturias, north-west Spain, for example, a hospital and a university building are already being heated using coalmine water.

The ConversationOur research shows this technology could give the world’s disused coal mines a new, green, lease of life. What a fitting legacy for the industry that would be.

Amin Al-Habaibeh, Professor of Intelligent Engineering Systems, Nottingham Trent University.

This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.

 
 
 
 

How getting a dog made me hate London less

A dog called Martha. Image: Jamie Ross.

I never have been anything but a staunch hater of London. Growing up in what a friend from Chicago called “a forest reserve”, my entire life has been split between a suburban one in a leafy town near Dayton, Ohio and an urban one, spent in stupidly pretty, and still fairly leafy, Edinburgh. I moved to London for a hot second in 2016, hated my job as well as my surroundings, and left, pretty much immediately.

And then, almost two years later, I was offered my current role at the New Statesman, and I packed up my shit and dragged my reluctant boyfriend with me to do it all over again. I sort of enjoyed my summer in London – but I felt strongly that living in the city would never feel like anything other than a necessary evil.

I live in – this is your moment to laugh and call me a posh prick – Notting Hill. It’s a decent location, has more trees and parks than other parts of the city, and, most importantly, is the closest I could get to replicating my old neighbourhood of Stockbridge in Edinburgh, which I loved dearly. But even this isn’t enough to entirely counteract the fact my physical surroundings, on my commute to the office by the Temple, made me feel constantly claustrophobic and stressed. London is cold and unfriendly, compared to many parts of this country, and it is filthy – not in a snobby, prissy, precious fuckhead way, but in a “My life expectancy has probably dropped by three years breathing in this polluted air and stepping on broken glass” way. For my first few months in London, in the middle of the heat wave, walking the streets was like walking through an endless sludge: this was not a city I liked nor one I, really, wanted to live in.

Until I got a puppy.

The one condition my boyfriend imposed when he agreed to trudge down to London with me was that we find a flat where our letting agreement said that we could have dog. So, three months after our move, we got Martha, a twelve-week-old black cockapoo.

Getting her changed our lives in a lot of ways. It’s made it impossible for us to leave the house without having a human being on attendance to watch her like a hawk. It means I now have to wake up at 6:45am every day, weekends included, so that she can take a shit. She has improved our lives remarkably - I mean, we have a living floof doing sweet and adorable shit in our house – but she has changed things a lot.

And the thing I least expected this goddam dog to change has been the way has made me feel more integrated into this godforsaken city: she’s made me appreciate London, even with its downsides.

Actually, something else happened, without which I don’t think my point of view would have changed. Almost immediately after getting Martha – and I mean, like, within hours – I contracted a disgusting cold. The day after that cold cleared up, I got violent conjunctivitis, like the disgusting seven-year-old I am, which took a week to get over.

These two illnesses, combined, lasted around two weeks, so I was trapped at home for roughly seven days of the ten I would normally have been at work. That meant I was around to relieve the puppy burden from my home-working boyfriend.

I was tasked with dragging my puss-filled eyes out to let our dog have a run around, and to get her to piss every couple of hours. This new responsibility forced me to explore the neighbourhood that, for the three months previous, I had generally ignored. What I thought was the worst timing known to man was, not to exaggerate, life-changing. I’m not sure I would have come to this realisation about my new home had it not happened.

 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Another great day at the park! Pic by fellow small creature @esther.dominy.

A post shared by Martha The Dog (@heythereitsmartha) on

Happy City by Charles Montgomery is a book all about how urban planning can make or break our wellbeing – what commutes, cars, bikes, and greenspace do to our mental health. One portion of the book is spent debunking the idea that the sheer amount of greenspace in an area is what makes us happy. Montgomery argues that it’s actually the regularity of greenspace that makes a real difference – it’s not just how much grass and trees there is in the city you live in, but how often you get to see it.


Pre-Martha, my exposure to grass amounted to the occasional lunch in a garden and a visit to Hyde Park once or twice a month. But within a matter of days of getting a dog, I learned that I had not one, not two, not three, but five (five!) piss locations within five (again: five!) minutes of my house. Some were suitable for little more than the aforementioned – but others gave her enough room to run after sticks, leaves, tennis balls, and, her favourite, other dogs, so that she’d be pleasantly exhausted for the rest of the day. What I originally thought was just an expanse of buildings and pavement stretching from my flat to Hyde Park was actually filled with pockets of green spaces that made this trash-laden hell-hole feel a lot less oppressive.

Spending time at parks where other dogs also go to piss meant I started to make relationships with other dog-owners too. For the first time in any place I’ve lived in outside of my home town, I actually started to meet my neighbours, and learn about things that were happening in my neighbourhood, that I would never otherwise never known about. I now know Tiggy, Rex, Bubba, and Charlie, as well as their respective owners. I also know about good pubs, family-run restaurants, and free events that are far better than the deeply average, pretentious brunch place recommended to me by The Culture Trip. My neighbourhood has feeling like a dead space between Tesco, my bus stop, and the tube, to a place I can see as a respite from the rest of this stressful city, full of people I know and new places I’d have otherwise not thought twice about.

 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Me and some new friends from the other day! Hoping for some more social time this weekend 

A post shared by Martha The Dog (@heythereitsmartha) on

And taking her out at the same time every day, around the 7am mark, means we then almost always run into the same people. A very sweet kid walks to school around the same time and always smiles at her. We see the same woman with her dog, who always greets Martha with aggressive barking, ultimately ending in a congenial ass sniff. We let her jump up at the incredibly patient builders doing construction on a building at the end of our street.

This morning ritual, seeing my neighbourhood when it’s not rammed with tourists but is quiet and reserved for people who live or work nearby, has become a way to decompress at the start of every day. And as a woman, being up and out when it’s often dark, but seeing people I now recognise, means my neighbourhood has become less intimidating. For the first time in London, I feel safe and comfortable even late at night.

Beyond the confines of my neighbourhood, Martha has made me see London, not for what it does for me, but for what it provides for her. Never have I ever had such an appreciation for London’s public transport system than when I got my dog, who wears a big stupid grin at all times when riding the bus. (Her internal monologue honestly appears to be an endless loop of, “ALL OF THIS STUFF WOW MORE STUFF OH GOD REALLY COULD THERE ACTUALLY BE MORE STUFF HELLO EVERYONE HI OH HI WOULD YOU LIKE TO PET MY HEAD?”)

Even long journeys are now a delight, because watching your puppy be amazed, fascinated, and happy at all times, eventually passing out from exhaustion at all the energy expended, is incredibly heart-warming. Faced from the bus, London, even at its busiest, feels far better with my dog than on my own: her pure, unadulterated excitement is enough to make holding a wild animal on a packed motor vehicle worthwhile.

 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

dad taught me love • dad taught me patience • dad taught me pain

A post shared by Martha The Dog (@heythereitsmartha) on

I’m almost certain I will never love London. I don’t think I will ever feel charmed enough by the charming parts to outweigh the onslaught of the, often, literal shit it brings with it. Not everything about having a dog in London is great, of course: there is trash everywhere, trash I used to pass nonchalantly but now have to heave my dog away from in case she eats a used condom or even another dog’s shit. And, obviously, living in a city is probably never great for an animal compared to, say, a suburb or the countryside.

But through my dog I’ve learned what’s actually around me, not just what I narrowly perceive on my begrudging walk to work. Doing that has made London feel a lot less like my own personal hell. Slowly, Martha is making London like some kind of twisted, imperfect, home for me.

Sarah Manavis is the digital culture and tech writer at the New Statesman. She tweets as @sarahmanavis.

Martha Ross-Manavis is small and cute dog. You can follow her on Instagram at @heythereitsmartha.