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Wednesday, 30 September 2009
Sunday, 27 September 2009
A Londres.
So I'm London this weekend - came down yesterday for a trustee meeting. I went for a job before I left Parliament, and whilst I didn't get to be the director of this particular organisation, I have ended up being the secretary to the board. Fun times. I've always been of the opinion that I should take up any opportunities that may present themselves to me, it's how I ended up in South Korea on an impromptu holiday, bought a car on Ebay one evening and have been in London taking minutes all day yesterday.
It's a bit weird going back to London - I know it's been two months already, but it was a serious thing, we were together for a year and it ended so suddenly. I don't want there to be any awkwardness between us, you know?
It's a bit weird going back to London - I know it's been two months already, but it was a serious thing, we were together for a year and it ended so suddenly. I don't want there to be any awkwardness between us, you know?
Saturday, 26 September 2009
Nailing my colour to the mast.
So Anonymous 2 asked in my recent post requesting questions (still there to add yours to...) why I am a Lib Dem. It's because I like yellow. That’s the shortest reason. But srsly. If you don’t like wonky political stuff look away now.
Joining a political party is a very personal public thing to do - if nothing else it lumps you in with a group of people you don't have any control over and defines you in others' eyes. It's a comment on how you see yourself within society, a reflection on your worldview. Voting is one thing, doing quite another. You’re never going to be able to find a political party that’s an exact fit with every single policy idea that you might come up with – I think with something as key to a political person as a political party you’ve got to think about philosophy and intentions and process and very business of being. I like the Liberal Democrats – not because I agree with all of the policies, and let’s face it, not even the shadow cabinet can manage that trick, but because of all the things above.
The philosophy – it says on my card (which is nestled in my wallet next to my Volvo Owners Club card, I’m a true Lib Dem) that the party exists to ‘build and safeguard a fair, free and open society, in which we seek to balance the fundamental values of liberty, equality and community and in which no-one shall be enslaved by poverty, ignorance or conformity. ‘ How can you argue with that as a foundation?
The intentions – they’re good ones. It’s not like anyone joins the yellows because they’re ambitious. I could never be a Tory because you’d be watching your back all the time, there’s a sense of everyone working together to achieve power, not benefit society. Seeing the Labour people in Parliament I was only aware of a sense of rising panic, like they can see the iceberg but it’s miles away and they know they can’t turn in time. There is so much more a sense of camaraderie and support amongst the Lib Dem researchers in Parliament; that alone is reason to join once you’ve witnessed it. I got help from colleagues that none of my friends in other parties could have expected, I knew that I could lift the phone and get advice on whatever area of that person's speciality. Evan Harris wouldn't like it, but the Lib Dems are borderline Christian there.
The process – what I like most about the Liberal Democrats is that even if I disagree with a policy, I know that it has been voted on by the members, discussed by the wonks and carefully costed by the researchers. The party punches so far above its weight when you compare resource with resource amongst the other parties – a point validated by the amount of policies that are stolen and passed off as their own. No-one complains, though, because it’s about what’s on the membership card. That’s not even to get started on civil liberties and fairness and the myriad common sense policies that the Liberal Democrats hold fundamentally to.
When it comes down to it though, and this is very much to do with the business of being; I am a Liberal Democrat because I am a Liberal Democrat.
(p.s. Anonymous 2 - this post has 571 words altogether, will that do you?)
Joining a political party is a very personal public thing to do - if nothing else it lumps you in with a group of people you don't have any control over and defines you in others' eyes. It's a comment on how you see yourself within society, a reflection on your worldview. Voting is one thing, doing quite another. You’re never going to be able to find a political party that’s an exact fit with every single policy idea that you might come up with – I think with something as key to a political person as a political party you’ve got to think about philosophy and intentions and process and very business of being. I like the Liberal Democrats – not because I agree with all of the policies, and let’s face it, not even the shadow cabinet can manage that trick, but because of all the things above.
The philosophy – it says on my card (which is nestled in my wallet next to my Volvo Owners Club card, I’m a true Lib Dem) that the party exists to ‘build and safeguard a fair, free and open society, in which we seek to balance the fundamental values of liberty, equality and community and in which no-one shall be enslaved by poverty, ignorance or conformity. ‘ How can you argue with that as a foundation?
The intentions – they’re good ones. It’s not like anyone joins the yellows because they’re ambitious. I could never be a Tory because you’d be watching your back all the time, there’s a sense of everyone working together to achieve power, not benefit society. Seeing the Labour people in Parliament I was only aware of a sense of rising panic, like they can see the iceberg but it’s miles away and they know they can’t turn in time. There is so much more a sense of camaraderie and support amongst the Lib Dem researchers in Parliament; that alone is reason to join once you’ve witnessed it. I got help from colleagues that none of my friends in other parties could have expected, I knew that I could lift the phone and get advice on whatever area of that person's speciality. Evan Harris wouldn't like it, but the Lib Dems are borderline Christian there.
The process – what I like most about the Liberal Democrats is that even if I disagree with a policy, I know that it has been voted on by the members, discussed by the wonks and carefully costed by the researchers. The party punches so far above its weight when you compare resource with resource amongst the other parties – a point validated by the amount of policies that are stolen and passed off as their own. No-one complains, though, because it’s about what’s on the membership card. That’s not even to get started on civil liberties and fairness and the myriad common sense policies that the Liberal Democrats hold fundamentally to.
When it comes down to it though, and this is very much to do with the business of being; I am a Liberal Democrat because I am a Liberal Democrat.
(p.s. Anonymous 2 - this post has 571 words altogether, will that do you?)
Friday, 25 September 2009
A nice cup of tea.
One of the great quests of my life is to time a cup of tea just right – I’m not so good with the hot liquids, but there’s an exact moment between too hot and too cold where a cup of tea is just ripe for sipping. I’ve still not cracked it.
There’s an immense satisfaction in that serendipitous moment where you just get it right, a winsome depression in catching your cuppof on the wane. I don’t give a tremendous shit what E equals, but if great minds could be concentrating their efforts on the things that really matter I could go into Lakeland within a matter of months and buy myself the thermogenic libation’s equivalent of an egg timer.
Sort it, science.
There’s an immense satisfaction in that serendipitous moment where you just get it right, a winsome depression in catching your cuppof on the wane. I don’t give a tremendous shit what E equals, but if great minds could be concentrating their efforts on the things that really matter I could go into Lakeland within a matter of months and buy myself the thermogenic libation’s equivalent of an egg timer.
Sort it, science.
There was some controversy.
One of the things I discovered in Westminster was the strangeness of being at the centre of where things are happening – you don’t really have a clue what’s going on until somebody decides it’s worthy of reportage and explains it all for you. I have a continual respect for the people who gather news and report it – the quality of their prose and the integrity of their impartiality aside, simply knowing what’s going on is a feat in itself.
Vince was voted the most trusted politician in the country just before Conference – since he filled in following Ming Campbell’s unseemly decapitation his stock has seemingly been on the rise-and-rise. In the wake of a pretty ordinary, uneventful conference a challenge to his authority was, in retrospect, an inevitable media narrative.
The Westminster Bubble is a very real phenomenon, and it’s portable – the excitement of everything that happens at Conference isn’t necessarily something that translates into the real world. The debates on whether opposition to tuition fees and this mansion tax idea should be part of the next manifesto were exercising the policy wonks – outside of the Bournemouth International Centre people are wondering why folks are being mean to that Nice Mr Cable. S’funny.
Vince was voted the most trusted politician in the country just before Conference – since he filled in following Ming Campbell’s unseemly decapitation his stock has seemingly been on the rise-and-rise. In the wake of a pretty ordinary, uneventful conference a challenge to his authority was, in retrospect, an inevitable media narrative.
The Westminster Bubble is a very real phenomenon, and it’s portable – the excitement of everything that happens at Conference isn’t necessarily something that translates into the real world. The debates on whether opposition to tuition fees and this mansion tax idea should be part of the next manifesto were exercising the policy wonks – outside of the Bournemouth International Centre people are wondering why folks are being mean to that Nice Mr Cable. S’funny.
Thursday, 24 September 2009
The quiet man is here to stay...
Nick’s speech was interesting – the conferences this year will be the opening salvos in what will no doubt be a long and bloody election campaign. The messages have been dusted off to a certain extent in Westminster already, but they’re constantly being refined and/or junked – each party trying to paint the others as bad guys, everyone selectively raking through history for ammunition – 18 years of Tory rule, the dashed hopes of 1997, meetings in restaurants, the Bullingdon club, who did what to whom. It's irritating when you're working there to hear the same lines day in, day out - but everyone's clamouring for the same fifteen seconds of news.
And I have to say, it’s all going to get dull pretty swiftly. There’s a bit of a phoney war going on at the moment – the real election stuff stays in the box until the Labour party sort themselves out. No-one at Westminster really believes that Gordon Brown will still be leader of the party going into the election – except perhaps for the man himself, but even he must be having doubts at this stage. Having a younger chap at the helm of the governing party is going to change election strategies – you can’t go for the same old same old, unless the man at the top was standing behind Norman Lamont on Black Wednesday...
Nick has always been criticised for being a bit Cameron Jr., which he tried to address but didn’t really manage to do that well. Personally I think he still has a bit of weathering to do, to rid himself of the slight patina of youthfulness. Young and dynamic works well for the main two parties because people know that they're full of ancient MPs and inherently establishment -when you're the youthful, inexperienced outside party that hasn't tasted real power since a previous life a hundred years ago, it doesn't do to have the chap in charge personify that too well.
It’s a shame, and slightly ironic, given that the theme Nick tried to make of his speech was fairness, but it looks like Britain is going to be keeping its two-party system for a little while longer.
And I have to say, it’s all going to get dull pretty swiftly. There’s a bit of a phoney war going on at the moment – the real election stuff stays in the box until the Labour party sort themselves out. No-one at Westminster really believes that Gordon Brown will still be leader of the party going into the election – except perhaps for the man himself, but even he must be having doubts at this stage. Having a younger chap at the helm of the governing party is going to change election strategies – you can’t go for the same old same old, unless the man at the top was standing behind Norman Lamont on Black Wednesday...
Nick has always been criticised for being a bit Cameron Jr., which he tried to address but didn’t really manage to do that well. Personally I think he still has a bit of weathering to do, to rid himself of the slight patina of youthfulness. Young and dynamic works well for the main two parties because people know that they're full of ancient MPs and inherently establishment -when you're the youthful, inexperienced outside party that hasn't tasted real power since a previous life a hundred years ago, it doesn't do to have the chap in charge personify that too well.
It’s a shame, and slightly ironic, given that the theme Nick tried to make of his speech was fairness, but it looks like Britain is going to be keeping its two-party system for a little while longer.
The prodigal returns.
So I enjoyed Conference. I didn't necessarily have a clue what was going on, but it was great to meet up with my MP from last year and lots of familiar faces. It made me wistful for them bygone days, living in swinging London and having lots of fun.
Maybe I should read through some back posts and think about commuting and rain and getting mugged.
I do miss Parliament, but I suppose that's good. It means I had fun and it's a thing to be remembered fondly. It's not necessarily a sign that I should go rushing back and trying to recreate memories that never existed in the first place. I have a tendency to want to do that, there are conflicting parts of my brain that thing 'great', and then 'don't do it' and then 'but, why not' and suddenly there's a fight and it gets ugly.
My course starts on Monday, I've got some stuff at the weekend, I got home to Coventry at 3am this morning - it's a life, it really is. I've got some Conference posts coming your way, some moaning, some memes and of course the answers to those tricksy questions below. I'm excited - some of these posts are going to be dedicatedly temporal, some a little random.
I'm stimulating my brain, cracking open the moleskin and spending some time answering some shallow and vacuous questions that no-one really asked - what makes me like a person, my guilty pleasure, left or right, what would I change about myself? It's a process of getting to know each other - admittedly one-way, but chip in and leave some comments. And to be honest, I'm still getting to know myself.
Maybe I should read through some back posts and think about commuting and rain and getting mugged.
I do miss Parliament, but I suppose that's good. It means I had fun and it's a thing to be remembered fondly. It's not necessarily a sign that I should go rushing back and trying to recreate memories that never existed in the first place. I have a tendency to want to do that, there are conflicting parts of my brain that thing 'great', and then 'don't do it' and then 'but, why not' and suddenly there's a fight and it gets ugly.
My course starts on Monday, I've got some stuff at the weekend, I got home to Coventry at 3am this morning - it's a life, it really is. I've got some Conference posts coming your way, some moaning, some memes and of course the answers to those tricksy questions below. I'm excited - some of these posts are going to be dedicatedly temporal, some a little random.
I'm stimulating my brain, cracking open the moleskin and spending some time answering some shallow and vacuous questions that no-one really asked - what makes me like a person, my guilty pleasure, left or right, what would I change about myself? It's a process of getting to know each other - admittedly one-way, but chip in and leave some comments. And to be honest, I'm still getting to know myself.
Saturday, 19 September 2009
On stuff.
It's getting like Lord of the Flies in the comments box, I'm going to leg it off to Bournemouth before it gets too dicey. Seriously though, thanks for those wee ideas, chaps - a little something to ponder, think about, ruminate upon, etc, etc. I was going to have the posts ready and line them up whilst I was away, but I'm not that well-organised. Oh well - I shall go totally old-school and take a notepad with me and come back with blog posts coming out my wazoo. But yes - thanks for those ideas and keep them coming.
I set my alarm for 8am this morning so that I could spring out of bed and get to the busy process of packing everything properly. It's nearly quarter past eight and I'm still sat in my bed with the laptop going and some chap called Niblett gibbering away on Radio 4. There's a massive pile of Things You Might Associate With Camping on the floor, which is how I pack. I gather anything that might have anything to do with whatever I'm doing or wherever I'm going and see how much I can cram in my suitcase.
So as I look, for instance, at my sleeping bag, 4 pairs of shoes and a plastic poncho, it's fairly easy to commence the culling. I look stupid in a poncho.
I set my alarm for 8am this morning so that I could spring out of bed and get to the busy process of packing everything properly. It's nearly quarter past eight and I'm still sat in my bed with the laptop going and some chap called Niblett gibbering away on Radio 4. There's a massive pile of Things You Might Associate With Camping on the floor, which is how I pack. I gather anything that might have anything to do with whatever I'm doing or wherever I'm going and see how much I can cram in my suitcase.
So as I look, for instance, at my sleeping bag, 4 pairs of shoes and a plastic poncho, it's fairly easy to commence the culling. I look stupid in a poncho.
Thursday, 17 September 2009
Wednesday, 16 September 2009
WANTED: IDEAS
I've all dried up - I have literally nothing to blog about; I wake up in the morning and shake the tumbleweed out of my ears and spend the rest of the twittering on about what I'm eating, or what I can see out of my window. My existence has reached such a level of dull that I'm considering a hosepipe ban.
So come, have at it. Ask me a question or give me something to write about and I shall. I know that I have plenty of lurkers, please be advised that you can leave comments anonymously. There's a little bit marked 'anonymous' on the comments form. Smart, that.
So come, have at it. Ask me a question or give me something to write about and I shall. I know that I have plenty of lurkers, please be advised that you can leave comments anonymously. There's a little bit marked 'anonymous' on the comments form. Smart, that.
Monday, 14 September 2009
Saturday, 12 September 2009
Better the twitter you know.
I've been twittering for almost a year now - my relationship with it is like one of those really irritating country songs where some woman with warbles on for 4 minutes flat about how horrible her bloke is but she loves him so it must be alright. That sort of Tennessee feminism that stands by your man and turns the other cheek night after night. And all this with a banjo underlay, it makes me crazy.
I can't help hating twitter and simultaneously spending every waking second on it detailing my movements (not those kind, I have standards) and striving to appear witty in 140 characters. It's the ultimate kind of size zero superficial fascism - models stick their fingers down their throats in order to have the body of a 13-year-old boy to get work looking waif-sexy and everyone will love them. Surely twitter is just the lexical equivalent?
Thousands of bloggers have dumped their trade of substance and creativity (and that's got to be myself included, this thing's gone way downhill, although it was never a living) for thin legs and instant love. Are people following me? Am I being mentioned? Am I being retweeted? Did anyone find that last thing funny? It's intellectual neediness, the exact kind that would be first in line to have a go at the physical kind.
I have no high horse here, I'd never be able to get on it. In fact I'm guilty of all kinds of superficiality - I like to twitter in nice shoes. I can judge in 140 characters, it's the kind of thing I'm good at. In fact I can do it in 5 paragraphs, I must be good.
I can't help hating twitter and simultaneously spending every waking second on it detailing my movements (not those kind, I have standards) and striving to appear witty in 140 characters. It's the ultimate kind of size zero superficial fascism - models stick their fingers down their throats in order to have the body of a 13-year-old boy to get work looking waif-sexy and everyone will love them. Surely twitter is just the lexical equivalent?
Thousands of bloggers have dumped their trade of substance and creativity (and that's got to be myself included, this thing's gone way downhill, although it was never a living) for thin legs and instant love. Are people following me? Am I being mentioned? Am I being retweeted? Did anyone find that last thing funny? It's intellectual neediness, the exact kind that would be first in line to have a go at the physical kind.
I have no high horse here, I'd never be able to get on it. In fact I'm guilty of all kinds of superficiality - I like to twitter in nice shoes. I can judge in 140 characters, it's the kind of thing I'm good at. In fact I can do it in 5 paragraphs, I must be good.
Friday, 11 September 2009
I register at university.
I registered for my course at university last night around midnight. Back in my day you couldn't do any fancy shit like that. We had to queue for 2 hours in the driving rain in no celsius with just a light jacket and a pair of flip-flips. Online? These students today don't know they're born.
I registered for my car journalism modules (no choice, at least they look good - work placement at a car magazine? Industry in context? I'm looking forward to a glorious period of my life where reading Autocar is homework), gave my bank details so that they can steal £700 a month from me (not sure yet where it's going to come from, but I'm a pious man and intend to pray heavily. I may blog about it, it'll be proof that it works. Money first, then I'll sort out your cancerous warts and too-short legs) and I even told them about my A-levels, thankyouverymuchforasking.
Seriously though, it was grim up north (Wales) - it took ages, the queues snaked through the entire university building, they were very strict about going at certain times and having a surname beginning with B was nightmareish, I couldn't cope with those once-yearly early starts.
I'm kind of hoping that I won't have too many early starts this year - I failed my first year because of a 9 o'clock lecture. That's a story for another time, though. For the moment I shall just bask in my newly-rediscovered student status.
I registered for my car journalism modules (no choice, at least they look good - work placement at a car magazine? Industry in context? I'm looking forward to a glorious period of my life where reading Autocar is homework), gave my bank details so that they can steal £700 a month from me (not sure yet where it's going to come from, but I'm a pious man and intend to pray heavily. I may blog about it, it'll be proof that it works. Money first, then I'll sort out your cancerous warts and too-short legs) and I even told them about my A-levels, thankyouverymuchforasking.
Seriously though, it was grim up north (Wales) - it took ages, the queues snaked through the entire university building, they were very strict about going at certain times and having a surname beginning with B was nightmareish, I couldn't cope with those once-yearly early starts.
I'm kind of hoping that I won't have too many early starts this year - I failed my first year because of a 9 o'clock lecture. That's a story for another time, though. For the moment I shall just bask in my newly-rediscovered student status.
Thursday, 10 September 2009
Volvo, volvas, volvat, volvamus, volvatis, volvant.
In an effort to raise the intellect quotient of my blog but also to squeeze in a little something about my new car, I have written A Haiku. What’s more, it is IN FRENCH. Massif brains, non?
Voici mon Volvo
Voici son flip-up
Lights
The engine’s torquey, first gear is a little snickety but the box is firm, the handling is assertive but there’s a tendency to tramline. Congratulations, you’re all boned up on my car.
Voici mon Volvo
Voici son flip-up
Lights
The engine’s torquey, first gear is a little snickety but the box is firm, the handling is assertive but there’s a tendency to tramline. Congratulations, you’re all boned up on my car.
Tuesday, 8 September 2009
I did a roadtrip to Devon.
A week last Friday, buoyed by the heady salty air of Brixham, Devon, encourage by friends and duped by our party leader, I headed out at the back of a five-person snake at eleven hundred hours and was never heard from again. Almost, but it could have happened. What was described a ‘short 4 and a half mile walk’ through the countryside turned into eight and beyond through the wildest of coastal walkways, driving rain and inappropriate shoes. Chairman Mao, whilst he would have loved the scenery, may even have been tempted to give up and head for a bus-stop.
I do love Devon – once I’m there, I must add. It’s a terrible place to get to – who thought that one road in and out would be a good idea? It would be like if people actually wanted to go to Aberystwyth. It’s the funny thing about the middle of nowhere, it’s so desirable to get away from it all, but you end up going there with thousands of other people and you end up where you could have just stayed at home, turned off the electricity and changed your bed linen for a similar effect.
As a general rule for me, if I’m in the countryside and not sitting in a car it’s because I’m lost. I like to take occasional pictures of nature, but I don’t like prolonged contact, we haven’t always got on so well. I don’t have walking shoes, I have shoes that I like to walk in. There’s a distinct difference I find – I like shoes, I have lots of shoes, but one of my gifts is being able to turn up anywhere in the worst possible pair out of all of them. A week last Friday was a pair of spongey plastic wedge-soled things with a quilted green material where normally you would find ankle support.
I had a great time – bonding with old friends, picnicking in the most windswept place anyone could have found in the world that day and the most wonderful opportunities for good moaning. I love moaning, I believe I’ve elevated it to something of an art form. This wasn’t a walk, it was an experience.
I do love Devon – once I’m there, I must add. It’s a terrible place to get to – who thought that one road in and out would be a good idea? It would be like if people actually wanted to go to Aberystwyth. It’s the funny thing about the middle of nowhere, it’s so desirable to get away from it all, but you end up going there with thousands of other people and you end up where you could have just stayed at home, turned off the electricity and changed your bed linen for a similar effect.
As a general rule for me, if I’m in the countryside and not sitting in a car it’s because I’m lost. I like to take occasional pictures of nature, but I don’t like prolonged contact, we haven’t always got on so well. I don’t have walking shoes, I have shoes that I like to walk in. There’s a distinct difference I find – I like shoes, I have lots of shoes, but one of my gifts is being able to turn up anywhere in the worst possible pair out of all of them. A week last Friday was a pair of spongey plastic wedge-soled things with a quilted green material where normally you would find ankle support.
I had a great time – bonding with old friends, picnicking in the most windswept place anyone could have found in the world that day and the most wonderful opportunities for good moaning. I love moaning, I believe I’ve elevated it to something of an art form. This wasn’t a walk, it was an experience.
Monday, 7 September 2009
A stitch in time.
Do you know what I like about blog posts? I like the fact that whatever I’m writing, this post is a snapshot of my emotions, my state of being, the sum of my life thus far. I would like each moment of every day of my life to be the sum of everything that has passed – if you’re not using all of that simultaneously to inform your each and every decision then there must have been a number of things you could simply have left out.
I was discussing this with my friend Jayne the other day, in conversation about a letter she insisted was in the post (and who am I to doubt, it turned up a day or two later with the rising of the sun and the bloke in the orange jacket) – she had written a second letter because the first had somehow grown stale and out of date and pointless. I received the second letter, and it was a lovely letter, don’t get me wrong – replete with penwomanship and full of the details that mark out a friendship from say, sitting next to someone on the bus. Or not knowing them at all.
But it wasn’t necessarily a snapshot.
It was a rewrite of a snapshot – the next best thing, a second-hand first-hand source. Not lacking in value, but missing a little something. I think it’s great that things date – we try to avoid the ageing process in a futile bid for immortality, but I like the bits that grow stale and go mouldy and are best before last week. I’m wearing a pair of brown trousers and a stripey shirt I bought years ago from Gap – the stripes are orange and blue and red. I shall be wearing something different tomorrow – and that, if nothing else, differentiates today’s post from tomorrow’s. A snapshot.
I was discussing this with my friend Jayne the other day, in conversation about a letter she insisted was in the post (and who am I to doubt, it turned up a day or two later with the rising of the sun and the bloke in the orange jacket) – she had written a second letter because the first had somehow grown stale and out of date and pointless. I received the second letter, and it was a lovely letter, don’t get me wrong – replete with penwomanship and full of the details that mark out a friendship from say, sitting next to someone on the bus. Or not knowing them at all.
But it wasn’t necessarily a snapshot.
It was a rewrite of a snapshot – the next best thing, a second-hand first-hand source. Not lacking in value, but missing a little something. I think it’s great that things date – we try to avoid the ageing process in a futile bid for immortality, but I like the bits that grow stale and go mouldy and are best before last week. I’m wearing a pair of brown trousers and a stripey shirt I bought years ago from Gap – the stripes are orange and blue and red. I shall be wearing something different tomorrow – and that, if nothing else, differentiates today’s post from tomorrow’s. A snapshot.
Sunday, 6 September 2009
The prodigal blogger returns.
Oh reader, it's been such a woefully long time. I've missed you all dearly. Never again, until the next time perhaps.
What's even more depressing than forced separation is that fact that I've done nothing of any particular significance since we last conversed. I shall however inform you over the next couple of days about what it's like walking from Brixham in Devon to Dartmouth, which is also in Devon, but it feels like Lanarkshire when you're walking it. I shall wax somewhat lyrical on my new car, which took me safely down the M5, and I shall make you all jealous with a few tantalising details of the masters course upon which I will shortly be embarking. I believe I might also make some sort of attempt at political commentary prior to a new season of party conferences. I'm even going to be at the Liberal Democrat conference this year, but that's weeks ahead, I'm getting keen.
Anyway, I shall away - this extended bout of typing has left me feeling faint and I might need a cup of tea and a sit down.
What's even more depressing than forced separation is that fact that I've done nothing of any particular significance since we last conversed. I shall however inform you over the next couple of days about what it's like walking from Brixham in Devon to Dartmouth, which is also in Devon, but it feels like Lanarkshire when you're walking it. I shall wax somewhat lyrical on my new car, which took me safely down the M5, and I shall make you all jealous with a few tantalising details of the masters course upon which I will shortly be embarking. I believe I might also make some sort of attempt at political commentary prior to a new season of party conferences. I'm even going to be at the Liberal Democrat conference this year, but that's weeks ahead, I'm getting keen.
Anyway, I shall away - this extended bout of typing has left me feeling faint and I might need a cup of tea and a sit down.
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