Last year, I tried out the idea of reviewing my year in three parts, a concept which, if I say so myself, was quite a lot of fun. So, as the year draws to a close, it is perhaps time to start this year's review...
The beginning of the year fou
nd me in India, celebrating yet another wedding (my cousin Clyne and the lovely Nisha this time), and telling all and sundry that, unless my beloved cousin Kim was going to surprise us all, it was likely to be a very long time until the family would have a wedding to gather for. I was preparing for another uninterrupted year as London's regional bureaucrat, with no sign of a challenge on the horizon (prescience, a wonderful thing...), with the only clouds (albeit rather ominous, dark and storm-filled ones) in view centred on the impending conclusion of the financial aspects of my divorce.
The first surprise was the well-planned but incredibly poorly executed ambush at the first Regional Executive. To be opposed was unexpected enough, but to discover that I'd managed to upset quite as many people as the subsequent election demonstrated was somewhat hurtful. In retrospect, it was the beginning of the end as far as the old bureaucrat was concerned, and the decline became more obvious as time progressed. As for my opponent, whatever happened to him?
Inevitably, I became rather more introspective, and wrote the first of my confessional pieces, a departure from my normal style which rather set the tone for the months to come. Jessica was enjoying herself though, even though she was a source of some confusion herself later on... I responded with a rather ambitious attack on my Regional and State Chairs, only one of whom actually acknowledged that I had done so. At least I know that I exit unbeaten...
I had promised myself that I would live life in colour, and a gesture towards that came at Spring Conference where I surprised many people by rearranging the deckchairs on my own personal Titanic and having my face quite radically redesigned. I was told that I looked somewhat younger, and turned at least one head, as it turned out.
One thing I did predict though, was that the European Selection campaign would become a tale of those who had prepared, and those that hadn't. I did warn you, honestly I did. Now will you listen? Complaints about our internal selection systems were to become a feature of the months ahead, and it was already clear that the GLA list selection was going to be difficult. It was out of control by then, and boy, did it go wrong...
But change was fast overtaking me. The house in East Dulwich went onto the market following the carnage that was my divorce settlement, so I responded in time-honoured faceless bureaucrat fashion - I bought a laptop and fled to the South Pacific, via San Francisco. I needed baseball, ice cream, and adventure, in that order. Onwards to Melbourne, where I drank beer in the company of someone called Ros (now where have I heard that name before?), rode steam trains and generally avoided the rest of my increasingly chaotic life, before heading to Auckland. The adventure, however, was about to begin...
The beginning of the year fou
nd me in India, celebrating yet another wedding (my cousin Clyne and the lovely Nisha this time), and telling all and sundry that, unless my beloved cousin Kim was going to surprise us all, it was likely to be a very long time until the family would have a wedding to gather for. I was preparing for another uninterrupted year as London's regional bureaucrat, with no sign of a challenge on the horizon (prescience, a wonderful thing...), with the only clouds (albeit rather ominous, dark and storm-filled ones) in view centred on the impending conclusion of the financial aspects of my divorce.The first surprise was the well-planned but incredibly poorly executed ambush at the first Regional Executive. To be opposed was unexpected enough, but to discover that I'd managed to upset quite as many people as the subsequent election demonstrated was somewhat hurtful. In retrospect, it was the beginning of the end as far as the old bureaucrat was concerned, and the decline became more obvious as time progressed. As for my opponent, whatever happened to him?
Inevitably, I became rather more introspective, and wrote the first of my confessional pieces, a departure from my normal style which rather set the tone for the months to come. Jessica was enjoying herself though, even though she was a source of some confusion herself later on... I responded with a rather ambitious attack on my Regional and State Chairs, only one of whom actually acknowledged that I had done so. At least I know that I exit unbeaten...
I had promised myself that I would live life in colour, and a gesture towards that came at Spring Conference where I surprised many people by rearranging the deckchairs on my own personal Titanic and having my face quite radically redesigned. I was told that I looked somewhat younger, and turned at least one head, as it turned out.
One thing I did predict though, was that the European Selection campaign would become a tale of those who had prepared, and those that hadn't. I did warn you, honestly I did. Now will you listen? Complaints about our internal selection systems were to become a feature of the months ahead, and it was already clear that the GLA list selection was going to be difficult. It was out of control by then, and boy, did it go wrong...
But change was fast overtaking me. The house in East Dulwich went onto the market following the carnage that was my divorce settlement, so I responded in time-honoured faceless bureaucrat fashion - I bought a laptop and fled to the South Pacific, via San Francisco. I needed baseball, ice cream, and adventure, in that order. Onwards to Melbourne, where I drank beer in the company of someone called Ros (now where have I heard that name before?), rode steam trains and generally avoided the rest of my increasingly chaotic life, before heading to Auckland. The adventure, however, was about to begin...
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