Merit Order - The Merit Order in The British Electricity Market

The Merit Order in The British Electricity Market

The merit order was the method used in the electricity market of Great Britain when electrical power generation was the responsibility of a single integrated utility (the CEGB). After privatisation of the sector this was replaced by a more complex bidding system, the electricity pool, in 1990.

Read more about this topic:  Merit Order

Famous quotes containing the words merit, order, british, electricity and/or market:

    One merit in Carlyle, let the subject be what it may, is the freedom of prospect he allows, the entire absence of cant and dogma. He removes many cartloads of rubbish, and leaves open a broad highway. His writings are all unfenced on the side of the future and the possible. Though he does but inadvertently direct our eyes to the open heavens, nevertheless he lets us wander broadly underneath, and shows them to us reflected in innumerable pools and lakes.
    Henry David Thoreau (1817–1862)

    Our art is the finest, the noblest, the most suggestive, for it is the synthesis of all the arts. Sculpture, painting, literature, elocution, architecture, and music are its natural tools. But while it needs all of those artistic manifestations in order to be its whole self, it asks of its priest or priestess one indispensable virtue: “faith.”
    Sarah Bernhardt (1845–1923)

    The British are a self-distrustful, diffident people, agreeing with alacrity that they are neither successful nor clever, and only modestly claiming that they have a keener sense of humour, more robust common sense, and greater staying power as a nation than all the rest of the world put together.
    —Quoted in Fourth Leaders from the Times (1950)

    Prudence and justice tell me that in electricity and steam there is more love for man than in chastity and abstinence from meat.
    Anton Pavlovich Chekhov (1860–1904)

    Ae market night,
    Tam had got planted unco right,
    Fast by an ingle, bleezing finely,
    Wi’ reaming swats that drank divinely;
    Robert Burns (1759–1796)