John’s aural facilities are not what they were.
To use the phrase “as deaf as a post” as applied to John is a tendentious slur on the hearing ability of the post.
He wears his affliction lightly, he has never allowed it to impair his 60 years of service to the movement.
It irritates the hell out of Lucy, but that has gone way past the family joke stage – it is now a polished gem of music hall extravaganza sent down to us to lift the spirits when its pissing down outside and we’ve only got as far as Matters Arising. And Ray hasn’t even got here yet.
They, and we, have been together a very long time indeed.
And now.
Its over.
They will be packing up the tent in the next few days and leaving us to continue the struggle alone.
It is right and proper that Nightwatchman make some inadequate attempt to describe the cataclysm which befalls us. A very large hole has appeared in the middle of our floor. And it’s a long way down there. I am tempted to compare it to the day Trevor Francis left the Blues. Grown men were weeping unashamedly into their Mild Ale, season tickets were torn in half, Blues shirts piled up at the Jumble Sales. The Villa were ecstatic.
So it is today. Old men weep silently into their bottles of Sol (happily the slice of lemon keeps the tears out of the beer), unread second hand books pile up in Roys garage; redundant posters curl up at the corners in silent tribute. The Tories are chuffed.
And Suffolk, Suffolk, of all places, will be the unseeing benefactors of this downturn in our fortunes. It is they, whoever they are, who will receive, unknowing, not one, but two Party obsessives. Steeped in the traditions, lives hardened by years of disappointment, then shining with satisfaction and anticipation then back to dismay. But never, never deviating from a joint core belief in the good things.
They are an inspiration, they have by- electioned up and down the land, they have run book sales, they have leafleted Lucy’s knees away, they have collected funds, they have counted funds, and in John’s case they have tended the funds well away from the predatory fingers of the Candidate. The Conference itself marked their wedding anniversary.
We have absolutely no doubt that they will shortly been as indispensable to Suffolk as they are up here ………
But you have to speak up.
Nightwatchman
Wednesday 30 April 2008
Saturday 26 April 2008
Woof
Roger turned up at the Meeting with fingers in plaster.
His mood was surprisingly upbeat. Especially considering he had been doing a bit of canvassing. Actually talking to people about how they intended to vote.
Ours is not the most receptive part of the country for the Labour vote, one’s range of expectations runs a short way from outright abuse to truculent disinterest.
This does not phase Roger. Roger is possesses that rare confidence born of bedrock decency fuelled by a certain fluency with the English language and a very strong beilief in liberal principles. And Roger happily engaged in dialogue with innocent voters then went off leafleting
He was bitten. By a dog.
Dog was lurking by the letterbox. Our leaflets are not the quality they were, Roger needed to push the dammed thing through the aperture and through the draft proofing and he was nailed by hound. It actually bit one finger, the other was injured on its way out of the door.
Now Roger, being a sensible man, concentrates on those addresses where we reckon we might at least have some chance of securing a vote. So, not for him the Wyvern Road or the Moor Hall Drive, he does more work in Fowler Road and Falcon Lodge Crescent.
There is a certain irony here.
Our leaders have been pounding away for 11 years now pretending to emabrace the ills of word capitalism while shovelling barrowloads of loot towards poor families – tax credits, fuel allowance et all.
But their tactucs of tiptoeing around the Daily Mail and Rupert Murdoch in particular means that the entire spin underpinning the government is one of making the rich richer.
A case if ‘never mind what they do, listen to what they say’.
Dog, dumb animal that he was, could not be expected to figure out he subtleties of national strategic necessities. The fact that the UK has always been governed by a centre ground broad church was completely lost on the mutt. The explanation, that there are good guys and bad guys and things are not always what they seem, cut little ice in the hallway.
So when Roger goes into the Lodge and proselytes, you might not expect brass band and bunting. But on the other hand, you could be forgiven for anticipating a degree of quiet satisfaction that our people had noted a significant change in the standard of living of the poorest among us, particularly the children.
We forgot about the dogs.
Nightwatchman
His mood was surprisingly upbeat. Especially considering he had been doing a bit of canvassing. Actually talking to people about how they intended to vote.
Ours is not the most receptive part of the country for the Labour vote, one’s range of expectations runs a short way from outright abuse to truculent disinterest.
This does not phase Roger. Roger is possesses that rare confidence born of bedrock decency fuelled by a certain fluency with the English language and a very strong beilief in liberal principles. And Roger happily engaged in dialogue with innocent voters then went off leafleting
He was bitten. By a dog.
Dog was lurking by the letterbox. Our leaflets are not the quality they were, Roger needed to push the dammed thing through the aperture and through the draft proofing and he was nailed by hound. It actually bit one finger, the other was injured on its way out of the door.
Now Roger, being a sensible man, concentrates on those addresses where we reckon we might at least have some chance of securing a vote. So, not for him the Wyvern Road or the Moor Hall Drive, he does more work in Fowler Road and Falcon Lodge Crescent.
There is a certain irony here.
Our leaders have been pounding away for 11 years now pretending to emabrace the ills of word capitalism while shovelling barrowloads of loot towards poor families – tax credits, fuel allowance et all.
But their tactucs of tiptoeing around the Daily Mail and Rupert Murdoch in particular means that the entire spin underpinning the government is one of making the rich richer.
A case if ‘never mind what they do, listen to what they say’.
Dog, dumb animal that he was, could not be expected to figure out he subtleties of national strategic necessities. The fact that the UK has always been governed by a centre ground broad church was completely lost on the mutt. The explanation, that there are good guys and bad guys and things are not always what they seem, cut little ice in the hallway.
So when Roger goes into the Lodge and proselytes, you might not expect brass band and bunting. But on the other hand, you could be forgiven for anticipating a degree of quiet satisfaction that our people had noted a significant change in the standard of living of the poorest among us, particularly the children.
We forgot about the dogs.
Nightwatchman
Friday 18 April 2008
Puffing Parky
Parky wants your vote.
Young Master Phil has written to me. His leaflet dropped on to my mat last week.
It, I don’t want to be unkind, was a bit of a disappointment. Parky is not one for the grandiose promises. Actually he’s not one for any promises at all.
But he is very keen on what he does. Essentially, this is sitting on committees. Great sitter is Parky. Got a lot of bottom. And he tries very hard.
I shall take the liberty of quoting from the text…..
“Represent the ward as Councillor since 2004”
“Governor of Maney Hill Primary School”
“Member of the Falcon Lodge Community Centre Advisory Committee”
“Chairmanship of the constituency’s Economic Development Group”
“member of the City Council Regeneration Overview” oh!,”and Scrutiny Committee”
Its no wonder he doesn’t do anything.
He hasn’t got time.
But you can tell his heart is in the right place….. He will “continue to work hard…to ensure we get the high level of service we deserve”
He has “worked hard to help ensure that cycle and pedestrian routes are extended”
He does “my utmost to ensure (sic) that the needs of children and young people are always taken into account”
He will “do all I can to ensure local parks are protected”
He will “keep fighting for the economic prosperity of Trinity Ward”
And, he will also “do all he can to ensure that any development that takes place is for the benefit of all the residents in the ward”
These are the words of a driven man. When he’s not fighting, he’s trying hard so much that he is doing all he can.
Only a complete curmudgeon would dare mention the orgy of flap that has surrounded the Hard Trier’s complete failure to install a traffic light outside the Anvil Pub.
And it would surely take a stony hearted zealot to question Utmost Doer’s blank refusal to spare the Reddicap Residents the long hike to the polling booth.
Nightwatchman hopes Parky sleeps soundly in his bed at night. We note the line about getting the service we deserve.
If this tosh gets our boy elected, we may expect no less.
Nightwatchman
Young Master Phil has written to me. His leaflet dropped on to my mat last week.
It, I don’t want to be unkind, was a bit of a disappointment. Parky is not one for the grandiose promises. Actually he’s not one for any promises at all.
But he is very keen on what he does. Essentially, this is sitting on committees. Great sitter is Parky. Got a lot of bottom. And he tries very hard.
I shall take the liberty of quoting from the text…..
“Represent the ward as Councillor since 2004”
“Governor of Maney Hill Primary School”
“Member of the Falcon Lodge Community Centre Advisory Committee”
“Chairmanship of the constituency’s Economic Development Group”
“member of the City Council Regeneration Overview” oh!,”and Scrutiny Committee”
Its no wonder he doesn’t do anything.
He hasn’t got time.
But you can tell his heart is in the right place….. He will “continue to work hard…to ensure we get the high level of service we deserve”
He has “worked hard to help ensure that cycle and pedestrian routes are extended”
He does “my utmost to ensure (sic) that the needs of children and young people are always taken into account”
He will “do all I can to ensure local parks are protected”
He will “keep fighting for the economic prosperity of Trinity Ward”
And, he will also “do all he can to ensure that any development that takes place is for the benefit of all the residents in the ward”
These are the words of a driven man. When he’s not fighting, he’s trying hard so much that he is doing all he can.
Only a complete curmudgeon would dare mention the orgy of flap that has surrounded the Hard Trier’s complete failure to install a traffic light outside the Anvil Pub.
And it would surely take a stony hearted zealot to question Utmost Doer’s blank refusal to spare the Reddicap Residents the long hike to the polling booth.
Nightwatchman hopes Parky sleeps soundly in his bed at night. We note the line about getting the service we deserve.
If this tosh gets our boy elected, we may expect no less.
Nightwatchman
Saturday 12 April 2008
And don’t do it again!
Everybody is redesigning their Town Centre.
Bang the words into Google and you will find pages of Towns all unhappy with what they’ve got now, all employing remarkably similar phrases to punt a new, more attractive, more prosperous future.
There is also, generally, a disinclination to consider how the Town got into a spiral of decline in the first place and how, in the future it proposes successfully to avoid losing their way again.
No one is guaranteed a bright future. Stuff happens. As Macmillan put it “Events, dear boy.” But the tale of woe coming out of Sutton over the past five years indicates a level of discontent at the political level which is quite shocking.
Sutton Councillors are returned year after year for the primary purpose of maintaining the traditional self image of the townsfolk. In this they have lamentably failed. But the genius of the Tories is in inflating those expectations year upon year despite the brutal reality of empty retail units, a huge construction hole in the middle of town and a transport system which strangles the town.
Much as the MP might retreat behind his doleful descriptions of the difficulties of redesign with multiple owners, there is nevertheless a surprising confidence that things will get better.
We shall see.
There is surely, however the renewal turns out, a case for the city fathers devolving a direct personal responsibility for the well being of the Town Centre.
Effectiveness is linked very strongly with selection of priorities. No one in the last five years has made it their business to sustain the future of Sutton Coldfield Town Centre. There is an obvious need for a political understanding that one person should possess the authority to speak for the Town and that person should reinforce his or her stature by carrying out, week in, week out, the necessary ‘ugly’ tasks of consulting, probing, encouraging, suggesting, defining how best the Town might live up to the expectations of its inhabitants.
Any fool can commission a redesign, any fool can go through the motions of public consultation. The clever trick lies in forestalling decay. Sutton is patently not good at reinventing itself. The process should begin with a hard headed appraisal of ‘how we got to be here’ and then take some time to consider ‘how we intend to consolidate our gains’.
This is not a good time for the quick fix.
Nightwatchman
Bang the words into Google and you will find pages of Towns all unhappy with what they’ve got now, all employing remarkably similar phrases to punt a new, more attractive, more prosperous future.
There is also, generally, a disinclination to consider how the Town got into a spiral of decline in the first place and how, in the future it proposes successfully to avoid losing their way again.
No one is guaranteed a bright future. Stuff happens. As Macmillan put it “Events, dear boy.” But the tale of woe coming out of Sutton over the past five years indicates a level of discontent at the political level which is quite shocking.
Sutton Councillors are returned year after year for the primary purpose of maintaining the traditional self image of the townsfolk. In this they have lamentably failed. But the genius of the Tories is in inflating those expectations year upon year despite the brutal reality of empty retail units, a huge construction hole in the middle of town and a transport system which strangles the town.
Much as the MP might retreat behind his doleful descriptions of the difficulties of redesign with multiple owners, there is nevertheless a surprising confidence that things will get better.
We shall see.
There is surely, however the renewal turns out, a case for the city fathers devolving a direct personal responsibility for the well being of the Town Centre.
Effectiveness is linked very strongly with selection of priorities. No one in the last five years has made it their business to sustain the future of Sutton Coldfield Town Centre. There is an obvious need for a political understanding that one person should possess the authority to speak for the Town and that person should reinforce his or her stature by carrying out, week in, week out, the necessary ‘ugly’ tasks of consulting, probing, encouraging, suggesting, defining how best the Town might live up to the expectations of its inhabitants.
Any fool can commission a redesign, any fool can go through the motions of public consultation. The clever trick lies in forestalling decay. Sutton is patently not good at reinventing itself. The process should begin with a hard headed appraisal of ‘how we got to be here’ and then take some time to consider ‘how we intend to consolidate our gains’.
This is not a good time for the quick fix.
Nightwatchman
Friday 4 April 2008
Just place your cross
So where do we go from here?
The local election looms. The Tories are in power. We use the word in its very broadest sense. The Tories are in charge? No, that certainly won’t do... The Tories are……………….in the Council House. That’s better but doesn’t really do justice to the complexity of their relationship with the general public.
The public actually vote. In large numbers in each ward for nominated Tory. Tory accepts votes and allowances, more or less graciously, and beaches up in B1 for several years. The intriguing question is Why?
Their best friends would hesitate to describe Tories as industrious. MP comes up every so often with phrases like ‘hardworking councillors’ or ‘very hardworking councillors’ but everybody understands the code. Rough translation is “these are local erks whom noone in their right mind would entrust with running a whelk stall “. It is necessary however to declaim these sentiments regularly to reinforce the generally accepted tenets of democracy which is that this party is as together as Pete Docherty and exotic substances.”]
Are they influential ? No. They are routinely ignored by public, by MP, by newspapers, and by large numbers of domestic animals routinely fouling the park.
Do they make their presence felt? No. They are reliably rumoured to live in holes in the ground coming out only to buy the Sutton Observer the better to understand from Rob Pocock what public responsibility looks like.
Are they shining examples of incorruptible public servants anxious only to fulfil their democratic mandate…………..’Taxi!’.
But the voting public do not share this view of the world as it is lived in B74.
They do not see erks failing to run whelk stall. They see sturdy bulwark against Socialist hordes lead ably from the front by Rob Pocock.
They do no see indolence, the see sturdy bulwark……..
They do not panic at not seeing the Invisibles – they see sturdy bulwark……..
They do not look for influence, for erudition, for enthusiasm, for imagination, for any ability to get things done. – they see sturdy bulwark ………..
Calling this narrow minded is politically unacceptable – one might go as far as hazarding the adjective ‘curious’. But the result of, shall we say a cyclopean preference for a very long line of Tory candidates is becoming obvious.
The Town is in decline. We have done the short stagger down the mild hump. We are starting to toboggan down the precipice.
It is time to deplane the navigators.
Nightwatchman
The local election looms. The Tories are in power. We use the word in its very broadest sense. The Tories are in charge? No, that certainly won’t do... The Tories are……………….in the Council House. That’s better but doesn’t really do justice to the complexity of their relationship with the general public.
The public actually vote. In large numbers in each ward for nominated Tory. Tory accepts votes and allowances, more or less graciously, and beaches up in B1 for several years. The intriguing question is Why?
Their best friends would hesitate to describe Tories as industrious. MP comes up every so often with phrases like ‘hardworking councillors’ or ‘very hardworking councillors’ but everybody understands the code. Rough translation is “these are local erks whom noone in their right mind would entrust with running a whelk stall “. It is necessary however to declaim these sentiments regularly to reinforce the generally accepted tenets of democracy which is that this party is as together as Pete Docherty and exotic substances.”]
Are they influential ? No. They are routinely ignored by public, by MP, by newspapers, and by large numbers of domestic animals routinely fouling the park.
Do they make their presence felt? No. They are reliably rumoured to live in holes in the ground coming out only to buy the Sutton Observer the better to understand from Rob Pocock what public responsibility looks like.
Are they shining examples of incorruptible public servants anxious only to fulfil their democratic mandate…………..’Taxi!’.
But the voting public do not share this view of the world as it is lived in B74.
They do not see erks failing to run whelk stall. They see sturdy bulwark against Socialist hordes lead ably from the front by Rob Pocock.
They do no see indolence, the see sturdy bulwark……..
They do not panic at not seeing the Invisibles – they see sturdy bulwark……..
They do not look for influence, for erudition, for enthusiasm, for imagination, for any ability to get things done. – they see sturdy bulwark ………..
Calling this narrow minded is politically unacceptable – one might go as far as hazarding the adjective ‘curious’. But the result of, shall we say a cyclopean preference for a very long line of Tory candidates is becoming obvious.
The Town is in decline. We have done the short stagger down the mild hump. We are starting to toboggan down the precipice.
It is time to deplane the navigators.
Nightwatchman
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