May saw me en route to the most dangerous post office in the world, on the perhaps obvious grounds that it almost certainly needed saving (I exist, therefore I save post offices - Jean-Paul Rennard). Frankly, if Vanuatu Post think that such an enterprise is worth having, it shouldn't be beyond the wit of this Government to find a way to support the post office network in Britain...
But change was looming, and I had to return to London to begin the search for a new home. Technology was catching up with me, just in time for the impending disaster that was the GLA selection. I was beginning to display some rather un-bureaucratish emotion, as I wondered aloud about where I fitted in, and opened up about who I am and how I felt (although there was much more of that to come...), just in time for the start of the European selection process. At the time, I was fairly optimistic about it...
Escaping only to make my small contribution to American politics, I returned to the serious business of interviewing applicants, as Returning Officer for the South East Region, and as a member of the London selection committee. Moving house was merely the sort of usual complication that I throw into the mix to raise the challenge a bit. Falling in love hadn't been part of the plan.
I'd left a few clues for those whose mind is more attuned to romance. Pieces such as "Truth, beauty, passion and diversity" were a prelude before an attempt at bearing my soul in response to Conservative proposals on the family. And all the while, my opponent from the winter was up to something... although it was becoming less important exactly what, because I was conclusively in love...
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