Awake at an unreasonably early time to get to Maidstone for the shortlisting interviews for Maidstone and The Weald. I'm not an early morning person, and that's doubly true on Sundays but, for the good of the Party...
I made it to the interview venue in good time, and over coffee the interview strategy was agreed amongst the panel. The first candidate was brought in, and introduced to the panel, and we all warmed to the task fairly quickly. And yet there was a strange presence, something on the very edge of perception, that led me to believe that we weren't alone. There wasn't anyone else in the house, Dorothy, our host, had confirmed that, and yet I felt as though I was being observed.
During a lull in the discussion, my eyes wandered and there it was. On the window sill, sheltering from the rain, was a rather large cat, mostly white in colour with the odd tabby patch, looking through the window, peering at the candidate. I have to say that, if he was impressed, he wasn't giving a lot away, although I've encountered selection committee members with worse listening skills.
I'm reminded of a hustings meeting in north London in the mid-nineties, held in the living room of one of the Local Party officers, where the family pet, Claudius, worked the room far more effectively than the candidate and, I am convinced, might have made an excellent Parliamentary candidate for the seat had it not been for the fact that he wasn't on the Approved List.
All in all, I thought that the Selection Committee performed admirably this morning. It isn't easy to sit in judgement, and even more difficult to find fault but, if you are going to honour the commitment made when you accept the responsibility, you owe it to Local Party members to thoroughly test applicants. And when there is a parade of wildlife passing by the window, it becomes that little bit more difficult...
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