Quiet Work, Lasting Impact: Why Environmental Health Matters More Than Ever

When I found out I was being awarded an MBE, I was stunned — not because the work wasn’t meaningful, but because for much of my career, it felt like that work lived in the background. Environmental Health isn’t flashy. It doesn’t chase headlines. But it changes lives.

I’ve worked across local government and national policy for more than three decades — in Environmental Health, Housing, Public Protection, Community Safety, Licensing, and now Building Safety. But it was Environmental Health that shaped me. It taught me how to listen, how to act with integrity, and how to see risk before it becomes harm. These are the quiet, essential skills that sit at the heart of prevention.

And truthfully, it’s never felt like my honour alone. The MBE reflects the work of an entire profession that too often goes unrecognised. So many of us do the difficult, detailed work that makes homes safer, communities healthier, and systems fairer — not for recognition, but because it’s the right thing to do.

Shaped by Difference

Like many Environmental Health Practitioners, I’ve always thought differently. I was diagnosed with ADHD/Autism later in life, and only then did I realise how much it had been both a challenge and a strength in my career.

The fast thinking, the sharp pattern-spotting, the drive to act — they’ve all helped me in complex investigations, enforcement cases, and policy design. My Neurodivergence also gave me tenacity and, at times, an obsessive focus — qualities that helped me stick with difficult problems and keep pushing for solutions long after others had moved on.

Of course, it also brings overload, distraction, and moments of deep doubt and anxiety. I've learned to manage those tensions, and to be honest about what support helps. That honesty has made me a better leader.

It’s also why I feel so strongly about championing others who work differently, think differently, or simply haven’t had someone believe in them yet. Environmental Health is full of talent — we need to keep opening doors wider.

Why This Work Matters

Environmental Health Practitioners do work that is often invisible until something goes wrong. We stop things from getting worse. We intervene early. We walk the line between individual rights and collective safety. Whether it's poor housing conditions, food hygiene, pollution, noise, licensing or structural safety — this work touches people's lives more directly than most will ever know.

What’s more, it’s work built on values. Fairness. Evidence. Public good. And those values need defending — especially now, when the pressures on our communities are so high.

I’ve been lucky enough to work with exceptional colleagues across local and national government, and now at the Building Safety Regulator. But my heart will always hold a special place for the EHPs who knock on doors, investigate complaints, and use their judgement to protect people at their most vulnerable.

Shine a Light on Others

If there’s one thing I’d like this honour to achieve, it’s this: that more people take a moment to notice the brilliance around them. Honours aren’t just for chief executives or public figures. They’re for the people who go above and beyond, who uplift others, who influence systems, who stay true to their values even when no one is watching.

If you know someone like that, please consider nominating them. It doesn’t have to be perfect. It just has to be honest.

And if you’re thinking about your own next steps, I’d say this — Environmental Health is a career that matters. It’s varied, people-focused, intellectually stretching, and rooted in purpose. We need more brilliant people from all walks of life to join the profession — because there’s still so much more to do, and it’s one of the most rewarding journeys you can take.

The MBE may have my name on it, but it reflects the work of so many. So thank you — to my peers, mentors, and even the people who once gave me a chance when no one else would.

If this moment does anything, I hope it reminds us that quiet work still matters. That showing up with care and competence still counts. And that those of us who believe in this profession have a duty to help it thrive.

Keep shining.

That final line — Keep shining — is my own small tribute to the words of Marianne Williamson, whose writing reminds us that our deepest fear isn’t inadequacy, but the power we already hold. I hope we all keep using that power for good.