Disappointed - now you know what it's like....

After a heavy week of schools' work in Brent the solid grind has only been punctuated by the occasional break for the World Cup. While I have watched the England games throughout, my occasional "over the shoulder" glimpses of other games when ironing shirts or writing governing body minutes suggests there has been more excitement and better football displayed by other teams.

Germany's demolition of Australia, and the exciting 2-2 draw between the USA and Slovenia put the England performances into the shade. My latest "glimpsed" match was Ghana against Australia, which although it appeared to be a comedy of errors, at least had some drama and excitement.

I turned to catch the latest news headlines on TV a while ago and tried the Sky News channel for a change. Their sports correspondent was reporting live from Cape Town and suggested that the thousands of England fans there were having a great time in the city, their enjoyment only punctured by the 90 minutes of football they had to endure.

It reminded me of my regular Saturdays during the home season when a select band of Coventry City supporters travel to home games from Euston. We have a splendid lunch in a genuine Tudor-framed building converted into a CAMRA pub, enjoy the banter and camaraderie that is unique to seasoned supporters, only to have our otherwise perfect day out spoilt by yet another desultory performance from our home town team.

It was ever thus. The three seasons of glory are long past. 1963 - Third Division champions; 1967 - Second Division champions; 1987 FA Cup winners. And nothing since.

Nevertheless one has to remember that with so few real honours to win each season for the 92 clubs in the fully professional divisions, most supporters of most clubs start each season with the hope that "this year it will be our year", but are disappointed by the end.

So for all those who have shelled out to get to South Africa, and are now shell-shocked after two poor England performances, just try being a Coventry City supporter for 46 years. Not so much an excitement, more an exercise in lifelong character-building.

Remembering Martin Davies

I first came across Martin Davies in 2002 when I first got elected to Camden Council. We were both appointed to serve on the Overview and Scrutiny Commission chaired at that time by Janet Guthrie, a respected and thoughtful member of the Labour Group.

Martin's attention to the details of the scrutiny reports before the Commission and his thorough and effective questioning of Council officers made him a favourite with everyone. Always well prepared, thoroughly researched, and seemingly on first name terms with everyone, he set the standard for an effective scrutineer.

His day job was running Age Concern Westminster and it was through this that he became an authority within the Council on Adult Social Care. We often hear about so-called "compassionate Conservatism", but he was the only example I could readily cite who embodied those implicit principles. When he spoke on Council policy in his area of expertise I trusted his judgement. Indeed I cannot think of another individual from another party who I would so instinctively trust.

We served together for two years on the Council Executive. Friday mornings meant a breakfast meeting at 8.00am, an unnaturally early hour for me. Martin rarely changed his demeanour. Even at that hour he retained an infectious sense of humour and his trademark thoroughness meant that he had mastered his brief and could intelligently comment on others' papers too.

Martin was always well dressed. Most people probably saw him in his well cut suits at meetings, but even when he was wearing his occasional "dress-down Friday" jeans and T-shirts he still looked smart, probably because his clothes fitted properly and looked freshly laundered.

In more recent times he made himself available to attend Health Scrutiny meetings and welcomed questions from committee members. He was always a confident speaker in meetings, largely I believe, because he was so well-organised.

I have no doubt that Martin, like the rest of us, had his moments of wild excess. Others who knew him socially might feel free to fill in the details in their tributes, but what I find most shocking is that someone so apparently fit has been taken away from us in such an unexpected way.

His last public duty on the Council was to speak, as the new Conservative Group leader, in support of the election of the new Mayor. It was an affectionate and warm speech, just as you would expect from such a polished performer.

His sudden death has touched many across Camden, from all parties, from all communities. He was much loved and well respected as his huge personal vote in this year's elections testifies.

We have lost one of the good ones, a genuine public servant.

Back to Normal?

This week has felt more like "back to school" than so many since the beginning of April. I could almost say I welcomed the return to normality. After my half term break to East Yorkshire, Monday was dominated by visits to schools in Brent planning agendas for future Governing Body meetings. My zig-zag route through the borough culminated with a meeting at St Josephs Juniors in Wembley where the Governors, with amazing fortitude, were taken through the mind-numbing detail of the documents to refresh the "Financial Management Standards in Schools".

FMSIS is one of those initiatives set up by the last Government which was welcome in theory but has been a bureaucratic nonsense in practice, with anything up to 30 documents being required in a comprehensive folder to regulate the financial management of schools. In my view this could be reduced to the acceptance of some clear financial regulations written by Local Authorities, a local agreement for the delegation of spending decisions to the Headteacher and Finance Committee, and one annual statement signed by the Chair of Governors to say that the school has abided by the Council's regulations and that procurement decisions have followed Best Value principles.

A bonfire of bureaucracy is what is needed and I trust our friends in Coalition Government starts doing what it promises on this sort of thing.

On Tuesday I attended the Lithos Partnership meeting in my ward where there is further progress being made to set up meaningful engagement with the local residents, and where the police and the Housing Associations that share the management of the estate are prepared to work together to tackle the small number of ASB issues.

On Tuesday evening I attended the first Pensions Sub-Committee since the election and was glad to see Peter Brayshaw has lost none of his chairing skills with a four year break. He was fulsome in his praise for the work carried out by the committee in restructuring the Pension Fund under my leadership as Chair, which shows what a decent man he is. Now I am in opposition on the committee I put a cat among the pigeons to suggest that the 5% of the Fund we had provisionally set aside for "Alternative Investments" could possibly be allocated to "Ethical Funds".

As I explained on Tuesday I first proposed this when I was a member of Humberside County Council's equivalent "Investment Committee" 25 years ago. Then I was cautioned that there was insufficient knowledge on how such funds would perform to invest in them. We had to be confident that we would get a reasonable return for the taxpayer.

Well 25 years later it is clear that, as with all types of investments, there are good and bad funds in terms of their returns and the science of selection would be the key. Our officers came out with the same cautionary tale as those in Humberside 25 years ago. We await a further report on this issue but whether the committee will have the stomach for anything nominally called ethical will no doubt be the topic of a future blog.

On Wednesday I attended my second Governing Body meeting of the week - this time at Kensal Rise Primary School. Here the initiative to get fathers included in the school life of their children goes from strength to strength with another packed Fathers Week of special events about to start, including a day trip to Littlehampton sponsored by the Variety Club.

On Thursday I started a new role as the Liberal Democrat Group's representative on the Governors Liaison Group, which is used to thrash out a way of appointing Local Authority Governors to schools in Camden. After a lot of hard bargaining we only have one disputed school to try to resolve.

Friday was the annual "Works Outing" for primary school headteachers in Brent. This year we had a day trip to Whitstable with yours truly in charge of the travel arrangements and the lunch booking. Thankfully everything went well. I can certainly recommend the Duke of Cumberland in the High Street for food well above the average for a "gastro-pub".

It was on the way back to Kilburn that I had a phone call from my colleague Nancy Jirira which left me truly stunned. Martin Davies had died. I could not believe it. As I got out at Kilburn High Road station I came across Mukul Hira and he was as shocked as I was. More of this in my next blog.

I started these reflections by saying that this week was like being back to normal. Well as normal as my life ever gets I suppose, with highs, lows, and mind-numbing moments in equal measure.

Visiting Old Haunts

I spent the last three days revisiting Hull and Beverley where I spent 16 years as a student, worker, councillor, and husband. I stayed with my last remaining friend from the area, Ann, who I have known since 1980. She has recently bought a small cottage in the village of Seaton, a couple of miles inland from the small coastal town of Hornsea.

I was bowled over by the size and design of the back garden, the sensitive work of the immediate past owner who sold on the property before seeing the garden in full bloom for the first time. The weather was stunning, echoing what was happening elsewhere in England, but this was still unusual for me because I have few memories of hot sunny days in Hull, as they were very rare when I lived hereabouts.

We travelled first for a visit to Beverley viewing the landscape from the top deck, a patchwork of grazing land for sheep and the vibrant yellow of rape fields. The town itself seemed to have changed little. Where new in-fill developments have blossomed they blend in beautifully with the skyline and brick colour of the older buildings, a living tribute of some good work by the local Planning Committee.

I photographed the County Hall building where I spent four exciting years as the leader of the Liberal Alliance Group on Humberside County Council, noting that little had changed except the plate now displaying the East Riding of Yorkshire as its Council's name.

The one disappointment was that "Nellies" the original gas-lit pub next to the bus station (officially called the White Horse Inn but affectionately re-named by the locals in honour of its long departed landlady) was not offering lunches. So we had to change our midday feasting plans to visit the Dock and Duck, which offered traditional pub fare served by very traditional big-bosomed barmaids. The hot weather drew us back to Seaton for a lazy afternoon taking in the sunshine in the garden.

The following day we visited Hull. First to the scene of my greatest triumph as a local councillor, the pelican crossing I had installed in 1985, to connect the good citizens of the east side of Beverley High Road to its western side for a safe passage to the Haworth Arms pub. Although the original name is still on the side of the building the protruding signs called the place "Scream" presumably to attract the younger clientele from the nearby university, which is where we went next.

After a photograph taken outside of 17 Auckland Ave, one of my former student houses, I ventured forth into the university grounds to see new halls of residence taking up what used to be a green space next to the Social Services building, itself now subject to the close attention of the builders.

The Brynmor Jones Library and the central pathway though the heart of the university was a joy to behold. The manicured lawns on which revising students were stretched to take in the sunshine were better than ever, and I noted walking back towards the main entrance that the Arts building in which I spent a few hours in lectures during my undergraduate days had now been renamed the Larkin building after the university's former librarian and poet.

The Newland Avenue area seemed little changed from 20 years ago when I lived there, although there were more coffee houses than there once were, and even a Polish delicatessen demonstrating at last that there were now enough immigrants in the city to patronise an ethnic retailer.

But it was the people on the street here, and even more obviously on Holderness Road through which we passed later in the day on the bus, which reminded me of why I wanted to leave the place in 1989. Hull was always predominantly a white working class town where the aspiring middle classes in the professions and at the university were newcomers (like me). Mostly low skilled work kept the long term residents in their place, with little ambition other than to frequent the local boozer and chip shop, and to make an annual pilgrimage to Bridlington for their holidays. These were easily contented but uninspiring people: a big city with a suffocating, small town, narrow-minded attitude.

After taking my pictures in the city centre and old town area, we took the bus through East Hull, the empire lauded over by John Prescott from 1970 until this year. Here the lampposts were laden with signs encouraging the locals to engage with NHS Hull over the nature of the health services being provided.

Ann and I kept an eye out from our top deck vantage point for "normal" sized people on the streets. The only ones we spotted were the rare immigrants in this part of the world, with the obese locals tending to waddle-walk while herding their equally obese children towards vendors of fizzy drinks, or towards roadside benches to eat chips out of the paper at three o'clock in the afternoon. It seems that NHS Hull has an uphill task if it is to address the deep seated health problems in this part of the world.

In conclusion, it was interesting going back to visit my old haunts but I did not feel any emotional string-pulling. I was proud of what I did there between 1973-89 but it was clear that I made the right decision to leave. Hull has progressed and in many ways looks better than it once did, but you still cannot shake off the narrow ambitions of the place even now.

It was, and is, simply too small for me.

In Defence of Dan Brown

My sister recently took a look at my blog and her first comment was to query why I listed Angels and Demons as a favourite book. While it is fashionable these days to sneer at Dan Brown in literary circles he has two things I admire in an author. He is the consummate page turner, and his plot driven novels can all be described in these terms.

But what makes him stand out above his peers in the thriller stakes is his skill at systematically denigrating the Roman Catholic church, an institution which continues to demonstrate, even today, it's institutional corruption. The Vatican State has been a law unto itself for centuries and its defence of its wealth and power goes unabated. In the 16th century a Pope led his own army into battle, and earlier still, the Crusades against the Muslims were an example not of a peace-loving, all forgiving religion but of a blood-thirsty campaign to crush its enemies and forceably convert people to its point of view. Religion by force makes a mockery of the essence of Christ's gospel. The modern equivalent would be the control of the population by Orwell's thought police.

In recent times the scandal of child abuse by Catholic priests continues, and while the Pope and an array of Archbishops wring their hands about their past and present mistakes they are not taking steps to either report their knowledge to the local Police or to defrock the priests in question.

What all of this demonstrates is that organised religion like the Roman Catholic church (only one of many I have the same problem with) is man-made and is designed by its leaders to control the lives and behaviour of the population at large. The Christian church is based on four contradictory gospels written around 80 years after Christ was on the planet. So the inevitable distortion of details derived from word-of-mouth stories, passed through at least three generations, means we have a highly stylised version of events relating to Christ's life.

The fact that we don't have a written text from Christ himself is telling. He was a very clever young man who purportedly could take on the elders of the church in debate in Jerusalem. He had apparently a number of followers, some of whom no doubt could also read and write, and who could therefore have received the written text for safe-keeping to inform the first Christian church as it was created. But we have none of this. Either Christ wasn't as clever as now thought and never wrote anything, or any text has been systematically suppressed because it was inconveniently modest in its ambitions, and/or his life and works have been exaggerated to serve the interests of the Church's leaders 2,000 years ago, and ever since.

So anyone like Dan Brown who can turn the tables on the Vatican through a work of fiction (with a few elements of truth) is only doing what the gospel writers did 2,000 years ago. You pay your money and you take your choice, and I know what I would rather take to a beach this summer...