Here are some of the key paragraphs from the early pages of the Westminster government's response to the Calman Commission on Scottish devolution.

I've given bullet headlines for each of the subject areas and then lifted the key quotes from the document.

The Devolution Settlement - No 10 believes that the settlement is maxiimalist

par 12-13

.”In terms of the range of functions devolved under the Scotland Act and subsequent Orders under
that Act, Scottish devolution has been called a ‘maximalist’ settlement. The Government regards this as the right approach, because that was and continues to be the best way of ensuring that those domestic policies which most immediately affect the daily lives of people in Scotland are delivered in a way that meets their needs and wants; with direct accountability to the Scottish Parliament.

13. Nevertheless, there are areas of policy where the inevitable overlap between devolved and
reserved matters has the potential to cause diffi culty. Some of these relate to the devolution of
land use planning powers, and analogous powers under the Electricity Acts which are the subject
of executive devolution (i.e. they are exercised by Scottish Ministers even though the Scottish
Parliament does not have legislative competence over them). It was clearly not the intention of
Parliament in passing the Scotland Act that the use or threatened use of devolved powers should
undermine the delivery of reserved policies. The Government suggests that the Commission may
wish to consider how such problems might be avoided.”



Broadcasting - no ground to devolving Broadcasting powers to Scotland

“18. The evidence provided by DCMS highlights the strength of the BBC as one of our most widely
respected and authoritative institutions, providing a diversity of programming appealing to a wide
range of tastes and interests across the UK, refl ecting our shared traditions of freedom of speech
and a vigorous media. As the report of the Scottish Broadcasting Commission, set up by Scottish
Ministers, recognises, Scottish interests are represented within this structure and Scotland has
‘undoubtedly benefi tted from being part of the overall broadcasting ecology of the UK’.


Shared interests - No 10 wants the UK to speak with one voice


“24. Similarly it is in the interests of all the nations of the UK to speak with a single voice at an
international level. Our shared interests on the international stage extend beyond security. We all
gain benefi ts from the international reputation of the UK, built up by the whole of the UK, including
Scotland. Increased international infl uence is of particular importance in a world where the major
challenges are increasingly global – climate change, terrorism, economic challenges.”


Financial Accountability - they duck discussion of reforming the Barnett formula

“32. The devolved funding arrangements provide the Scottish Parliament with not only a rising budget
but also continuity and a stable, transparent and predictable way of funding public services in
Scotland. The Government are keen to consider with the Commission, in accordance with its terms
of reference, how the fi nancial accountability of the Parliament may be improved. As the Prime
Minister said at CBI Scotland on 4th September:
“Devolution has worked, but I do see one problem: while there have been good reasons why
this is so, the Scottish Parliament is wholly accountable for the budget it spends but not for the
size of its budget. And that budget is not linked to the success of the Scottish economy. That is
why we asked the Calman Commission to look carefully at the fi nancial accountability of the
Scottish Parliament and this is a critical part of Calman’s remit.”
33. We do not seek here to provide detailed evidence on the options that might be available. The
Government stands ready to engage with the Commission, on improving the fi nancial accountability of the Scottish Parliament.”

Thier conclusion - steady as she goes?

“The wide range of competence already enjoyed by the Scottish Parliament forms a sound basis for continuing success, and clearly remains in line with the wishes of the Scottish people
The government remains open to proposals, in accordance with these principles, to adjust the settlement further to strengthen devolution.”

Read that paragraph 13 from the No 10 response to the Calman Commission again (my bold italics) :

"13. Nevertheless, there are areas of policy where the inevitable overlap between devolved and
reserved matters has the potential to cause difficulty. Some of these relate to the devolution of
land use planning powers, and analogous powers under the Electricity Acts which are the subject of executive devolution (i.e. they are exercised by Scottish Ministers even though the Scottish Parliament does not have legislative competence over them).

It was clearly not the intention of Parliament in passing the Scotland Act that the use or threatened use of devolved powers should undermine the delivery of reserved policies. The Government suggests that the Commission may wish to consider how such problems might be avoided.

Could this be interpreted as a veiled threat to take the power to commission new nuclear power stations back to Westminster parliament level?

Getting out of Afghanistan is pretty hard. We left Musa Qala on Monday morning, and arrived back in Glasgow on Friday evening.
Energy levels are low, the need to get home is high. The constant dust clouds, desert wind and the bleached out sky gives the environment the upper hand. A Chinook lands for us at FOB Edinburgh, the deep rumble of the craft signifying our ticket out of here. The chopper drops down, the mighty draft from the propellers lifting stones from the ground and pelting them onto our bodies. We crouch in its shadows, curling up to make ourselves small against the missiles, then run over the rubble to take our seats on the second leg of our long journey back to the UK.
Our stopover night at Bastion gives the chance for rest in the relative comfort of camp. I get a good sleep in a hospital bed, the others get a square meal in the canteen and a night under air con. It is all good.
Night two of our return trip and we are lying down on a metal floor of a hanger at Camp Bastion. Our flight is delayed by around four hours. Soldiers mentally prepare themselves for seeing their families again, around 200 of them will soon be back in the UK for their two week spell of rest and relaxation. The next night, as we wait in another hanger in Kandahar, they are shown a DVD on how to handle themselves out of a war zone. Don’t expect a hero’s welcome, be prepared for the ordinary and don’t worry if your children seems distant at first. Oh, and don’t drink too much either. Alcohol may be the anaesthetic of choice for the military, but it really would be a waste is you survived Afghanistan, but killed yourself on the drink at home.
In the dark of night we board the Tri-star which is to take us away. We wait for lift off.
Six hours later, we are still waiting. By this point the sun is starting to fire up as we sit on the tarmac, packed in our metal carrier. The plane incredibly developed three faults on the journey home – the engine, the hydraulics and the brakes all carrying a “snag.” At one point, the pilot told us that the control panel lit up “like half a Christmas tree.” If felt like a Royal Air Farce. My hopes of getting home in one piece were on ice, the soldiers became annoyed. They only get 14 days off, including travelling time.
We made it to Muscat, the capital of Oman where we were sent to another hanger to wait. The sun loomed large, an air conditioning system wheeled in. There was nothing you could do, no point in getting angry. The only option was to wait.
The Tri-star was patched up and we were dispatched to the sky for one last time. Blankets and pillows were handed out. Waking up in the UK to see a cloud, a puddle and a light summer sun was just the sweetest thing.

One by one, the heat toppled us all. A soldier sent to Afghanistan in the summer will get five to six weeks acclimatisation, a journalist will get none. While there are really no parallels between the work of a reporter in a war zone and the work of a solider, one thing they do share is the weather. The effects of a 52 degree celsius afternoon are felt by all, some worse than others.
Of our team of three reporters and a photographer, all of us have spent some time in hospital suffering from the heat. One reporter fell gravely ill from heat exhaustion, her survival only down to the remarkable heroics of a helicopter medical team. Her recovery is a gift from somewhere.
Two of our team spent long periods of time hooked up to drips in a bid for hydration and I went the other way and was hospitalised after drinking too much water.
From the moment we arrived in Afghanistan we were told to drink, drink, drink. Some said take at least six litres, others said aim for as much as 10. The advice was broad and sparked some serious panic drinking but I didn’t realise that, in the process of trying to keep myself hydrated, I had basically waterlogged my system and diluted my salts and minerals to a dangerous level.
In the theatre of war, you can never be full proofed against all the risks but while a solider can train for war and prepare for the environment, journalists are basically dropped in and put straight to work.
None of us had anticipated just how hard a job this was going to be.

The army patrol moves towards Musa Qala. The approach to the town is nervy and slow. US Marines take the first steps, the rest of us hang back, kneeling into the ground to make our bodies smaller targets. Senses are heightened for any possible flicker that the enemy is watching us.
The risk of a suicide bomber is at the highest it could be, we are told, with intelligence that an attack against the town governor Mullah Salaam is being planned. Motorbikes and pick-up trucks are potential mobile explosion units. All vehicles are halted from travelling through the town when the army are in town.
The sound of a shout and a loud crack causes a shudder. A flare has been thrown towards a Toyota which had disobeyed the cordon, its driver removed and the pick-up searched.
We carry on, through the tight network of alleyways. A line of metal garage doors clatter nervously in the wind as we pass them, we walk to the sides of the road to avoid any planted explosives.
A number of syringes lie discarded on the dusty tracks, the ground covered in litter – there is no street cleaning as such in Musa Qala – and large swathes of dark beard hair lie matted in the desert dust.
There are no homes to speak of in this part of Musa Qala, most have been ruined by bombs and mortar. People seem to bed down behind walls or in the odd remaining corner. A few children emerge to watch the passing patrol, and some take sweets and smile at the friendlier soldiers.
Down into the town of Musa Qala and what would appear to be a busy trading day halts as we descend on the bazaar. The town is a cornerstone of Afghanistan’s opium trade, the fields around the town purple and red till harvest just a month or so ago, and as such the market is relatively buoyant. Motorbikes, mobile phones and toiletries are all on sale, smaller stalls offer healthy piles of okra, tomatoes and aubergines.
Strangely, there is not one Afghan woman to be seen in this market place. Only the men are allowed to spend, trade and meet with their mates. I was stared at in disbelief and others laughed, pointed and leered. When the patrol came to a standstill, I was surrounded by children, who just simply crowded round to have a look.
It was some afternoon at the shops.

There are many things that turn your thinking while in Afghanistan, and one of the most powerful insights on offer here is the skill, dedication and selflessness of the British solders.

Their package of attributes is overwhelming, and I am sure I don’t personally know anyone who could do this hellish job.

Forty eight hour foot patrols in enemy heartlands? Ten-day missions across the desert in heavy armoured vehicles? Treading amongst the daily and critical threat of suicide bombers and crude landmines? Float your boat anyone?

Focus, courage, intelligence and physical excellence is something which binds every soldier here, from the upper class Sandhurst graduates to the former trainee roofer who wanted to get out of Glasgow.

Every single on of them has a family back home who worry, many who have not told their families what they really do out here. There are plenty of sobbing mums on the phone during the 30-minute weekly phone rations, and many children in Britain back home who don’t fully realise why their dad is not at home.

One captain looks for the North Star every night to locate that his wife is 3200 miles west, another has a booking at The Ritz for dinner to mark his wedding anniversary when he gets released on his R and R (rest and relaxation).

While there may be continual posturing over the causes of war and the morality of war, soldiers here don’t like those question. Ask them about their job and they will tell you everything, ask about why they are here and they will tell you to ask someone else.

To them they are just doing what they are told, carrying out instructions to secure safety both here and worldwide

As one soldier scribbled on the toilet wall: “To prepare for peace, you must prepare for war.”

A much quieter night last night. Sleep is hard to come by, the heat and the noise working against any restfulness.

Cocooned in individual mosquito nets a full view of the sky is on offer. A thick magical blanket of stars keeps the gaze but occasional deep explosion and the flare of ‘looms’ – dropped from above to light up the desert – keep the mind ticking.

A towel over the tent tent helps to keep out the distractions – and keep out the prying eyes of the Afghan National Army soldiers based on the first floor of the bombed out hotel which forms the centre of the base.

With four women in a camp of many hundreds, equality was always going to be thin on the ground. But for Afghan men to see women going about their daily business on show in this way is completely alien. They have taken to hanging down off the balcony to get the best view and there must be a fair amount of photos of the ladies doing the rounds by now.

It’s like macho meltdown in the shower area, with soldiers openly bemoaning the fact that us civvie women were getting a few minutes to ourselves in there. One wee moaner grunted: “It’s not effing Butlins here.” No saying, Sherlock.