Now that bureaucracy is truly a dirty word…

These are challenging times for public administration, nowhere more so than in the United States, where Messrs Musk and Trump (but mostly Musk) are cutting a swathe through government department after government department. And, because Musk has very little experience of government, as opposed to selling ideas - his track record in selling actual things doesn’t seem to be that good if Tesla and X are any indicator - he does seem to be operating on a ‘break things in haste, repair at leisure (if at all)’.

Now, because I live in the United Kingdom, rather than the United States, I don’t have an intimate knowledge of how efficient, or otherwise, the various governmental organisations are across the Atlantic. But there are some truisms that are generally applicable. Politicians often get in the way of good administration - by under resourcing it, or changing the priorities frequently, or by interfering with operational activities. And, in a political system where politicians are rewarded for bringing the bacon home to their state or district, and where horse trading is rampant, the scope for disruption is all the greater.

Like the business community, administrators prefer consistency and evolutionary change. This allows you to make the necessary resourcing adjustments in a planned way, minimising damaging disruption and wasted investment.

And, if your administrative cadre are paid less than the equivalent rate in the private sector, that reliability is a factor which allows government to recruit and retain the sort of quality people who you really want - committed to public service and expert in their field.

Musk doesn’t appear to get that, and why should anyone expect otherwise? If something fails, he is rich enough to write off his investment and move on to the next thing. Previous customers may be less inclined to purchase his products going forward, but there are plenty of potential customers out there. Government is different.

If government screws up, people starve, or go bust, or get hurt, or die. If you reduce, or remove entirely, employees who fulfil important functions, you may suddenly discover that something you want to happen can’t. If you cut tax collection staff, you might find that you raise less money and need to cut things that voters like, or want (of course, this may be the aim of the exercise).

Here’s the key difference though - voters can fire you if you upset them enough - and no investment or PR exercise will change that immediately. I’m fairly confident that Elon Musk doesn’t feel the need to factor that into his operations.

My experience, at least in the United Kingdom anyway, is that the sort of people who complain about too much governance are, simultaneously, the very same people who are demanding that “there should be a law against it”. I don’t get the sense that Republicans see the world quite the same way - they take pride in the idea of self-reliance and self-government. But even they demand laws against “woke”, and limits on things that they don’t like. And who’s going to enforce those laws?

It is a nervous time to be an American bureaucrat, and I’m really not sure how I would respond if the same situation arose in Britain. But, for the rest of us, the experiment in tearing down an entire bureaucracy whilst expecting key business to continue as normal is going to one that some politicians in developed and developing countries will watch with interest, seeking a template for similar policies at home.

But don’t it always seem to go, that you don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone…

Labour: pulling levers and finding that the cables were cut long ago…

I’m not one of those people who wish the Labour government ill. I want the country to be better, and whilst I tend to the view that liberal solutions are, by and large, more effective, why would anybody want their country to be poorer, weaker, meaner?

But, as a civil servant, I also know that it takes time to initiate lasting change. System failures tend to require investment over extended periods, especially when the missing resources are human ones. You can’t just magic up doctors, or police officers or, as the Government are discovering, lawyers. And, as a result, the pledge to “fast-track rape cases through specialist courts at every crown court location in England and Wales” has been walked back.

This presents a wider problem for politicians, as promises to turn round failing public services run into the barrier of poor public sector morale, uncompetitive salary scales and under resourcing of key areas of work. You can’t solve these without a long-term strategy of raising pay scales, proper employment levels and investment in service provision. And that means upfront costs without immediate benefits, leaving any “progressive” administration at the mercy of public opinion whipped up by a hostile media.

It doesn’t help that the public are less patient, less trusting and more likely to have their own world view reinforced by media algorithms. The incessant chatter of supposedly intelligent journalists and commentators doesn’t help either, as they take ever more shallow stances in order to gain attention. You never, or at least, hardly ever, see anyone admit that they were wrong, even when they turn out to be horribly so.

Now, perhaps you could be more optimistic if our body politic consisted of political forces campaigning on philosophical lines, based on propagation of facts and ideas. But it doesn’t.

So, any government genuinely intending to improve public services needs to be honest about how long it will take to generate positive change, and how much that’s going to cost in the short to medium term. And yes, you can talk about the long-term benefits, because high quality public services can, and should, save money in the long term, whether that be in reducing reoffending levels, or care costs for the elderly, or getting people back into the productive economy.

Labour have five years to start that process, and in that time, improvements should start to become visible. But given the damage done over decades, it’s going to take more than just one term to create the public services we deserve at a cost that is sustainable.

Worcester: not going there from exactly here…

Catching trains is usually a fairly straightforward affair, especially in suburban stations. There are two platforms, one ‘down’, one ‘up’, usually corresponding to the usual rules of the road. And, when you have platform indicators telling you when trains are coming and which track they’ll be one, it should be pretty foolproof, you’d think, right?

But I’m getting ahead of myself a bit.

Pre-COVID, when we were last in the Metro West suburbs of Boston, there was a really good local pizza place called “Volturno” which, amongst its various delights, included an octopus starter which Ros and I both rather enjoyed. Unfortunately, the Framingham branch bit the dust, presumably down to the pandemic.

The good news, however, was that the original restaurant in Worcester had survived, and as we were both at a loose end today, we thought that we’d take the train from West Natick and have a nice lunch. The train fare for the scheduled forty-five minute journey was a very reasonable $4.50 each way (no discount for return journeys, I note) and, whilst the trains themselves are definitely showing their age, they’re warm and comfortable enough.

The Massachusetts Bay Transportation Authority (MBTA) is a bit eccentric. Outside of the rush hours, they insist that you board the train at a specified spot on the platform which, at West Natick, is a small raised section at the most westerly end of the platform. And, to make matters more entertaining, during large chunks of the day, ‘down’ trains serve the ‘up’ platform.

On arrival at the station, I noted the platform indicator stating that our train would leave from track 1, the ‘up’ or ‘wrong’ platform, and that we should board from the designated spot. So, you can imagine my surprise when, spot on time, the train arrived… on the other platform.

No problem, right? Simply cross from one platform to the other, board train. But no, there is no footbridge at West Natick, and the sole crossing point is at track level, at the other end of the platform. I am not as quick across the ground as I once was, but I wasn’t simply going to give up, given that the next train was two hours away. And we made it with the aid of a bit of frantic waving and a kindly train conductor who, seeing us heading towards her, held the train until we could board.

Drama, and a bit of cardio exercise, over, we could enjoy the train ride to Worcester, dotted as it is with forests and lakes. And, due to the quirky scheduling which allows twenty-seven minutes for the twelve-minute journey from the penultimate stop at Grafton, we were a full quarter of an hour early arriving at our destination.

Union Station is a rather magnificent gateway to the city, having obviously been built for a time when many more trains served it. Now, apart from the rather workaday commuter trains, it has one long distance Amtrak service, the Boston section of the Lake Shore Limited, per day, and the gorgeous passenger hall is almost entirely wasted on the people scurrying through it.

Worcester itself is in the process of reinventing itself, and I remember going there twenty years ago when the outlet mall built in the downtown area had spectacularly failed, creating an enormous void in the heart of the city. Things have rather improved although, like a lot of American cities, it feels a bit stark and empty of life. Ros reminds me that the development of American cities was, and remains, very different to that of European ones, and I do occasionally need to remind myself of that.

We walked about a bit, admiring City Hall and Worcester Common in front of it, before heading to lunch. Disaster! Volturno was closed for repairs - it might have been nice had they mentioned that prominently on their website, but luckily enough the neighbouring brew house was open and serving some good food and equally good beer. I’d spotted products of the Wormtown Brewery in the past and was now able to put two and two together - Wormtown is a nickname for Worcester.

Replete, it was time to head back to Union Station for the train back to West Natick. As we arrived, it dawned on me - we were on the wrong platform again. And again, passengers were dashing to catch the train. We got off the train, shrugged our shoulders at the eccentricity of the MBTA, and went home…

2025 is here, and so?

I’ve never really been one to mark the New Year. We’re often away, but that’s as much for reasons other than the celebration of the turning of the page from year to year.

But 2024 did see a few changes, mostly psychological, I’d suggest. I turned sixty which, whilst the day itself didn’t really resonate, has led to a mild sense of, well, it’s hard to explain really. I do feel that I’m slightly slower, slightly “older” and thus mildly more cautious. And, of course, this is absurd. Physically, nothing has changed, in that my weight is pretty constant, my underlying health (apart from slightly elevated cholestrol) apparently good if my recent health check is to be believed.

Best of all, I have Ros. Yes, I admit that that sounds a little “soppy” but as the years pass by, I value her in ways that I might not have expected. Even her simple presence enhances my day.

And, with the new home, life is much simpler. Having pretty much everything we need within a short walk (including my office) just allows a degree of spontaneity that didn’t exist when we were in the Creetings and I have a Senior Railcard for when Ipswich comes up short.

So, a new year offers an opportunity (or, if you like, justification) to ring the changes a bit, and that’s my plan for the year ahead. Nothing big, or wildly ambitious, but simply making slightly different choices and engaging a bit more.

Wish me luck along the way…

Regional Candidates Committee - let the verwaltung* commence (but not until the New Year)

And so, I was elected to the Regional Candidates Committee for the East of England Liberal Democrats - fairly comfortably as it turned out. And that wasn't a given. I've been far from active in Regional Party politics since my two year stint as Regional Secretary more than a decade ago, and many of our current members weren't around then. So, in that sense, apart from my friends and colleagues that I've kept up with, I don't have an obvious support base in such elections and rather relied on a manifesto rich in experience and high on relevance to get me through.

But here we are, and I have a job of work to do - although what I end up doing is to a great extent dependent on what the re-elected Regional Candidates Chair, Lori Flawn, needs or wants. At least I know what might be done, and when, which should at least be useful. And, I don't want her job, so I won't be getting in her way (not deliberately, anyway).

The new Committee, currently consisting of Lori, myself, Jacqui Morley (the Regional Vice Chair), Will Tennison and David Roberts, takes up its duties on 1 January, which gives me time to do some light reading first - it's always nice to know exactly what the parameters are and who I might want to talk to at various points. And, at some point, I ought to get to know my new colleagues a little better - to be honest, only Lori is that familiar to me.

So, where is that Regional Constitution…

I’ve been clothes shopping…

I am not, to anyone’s mind, ever going to become a fashion icon. Let’s rephrase that, given that I’ve spent most of my life noting that you should never say never, it seems highly unlikely that I am ever going to become a fashion icon. I kind of begrudge spending anything significant on clothes, I have almost no ability to colour co-ordinate, and I take care of myself in a relatively haphazard way. I don’t much like ironing either, although I acknowledge its necessity. For, if I’m honest, walruses and high fashion tend to be strangers.

It’s not that I can’t afford to dress well, it is perhaps that I prefer to spend the money on travel and, from time to time, good food.

There was a gloriously short period when I escaped my usual colour palette of blues and greys, but I was stick thin to the point where the staff I managed started trying to feed me, I had a 29 inch waist and my collarbones stuck out. At that point, I could look like Che Guevara meets Regency - I had the hair, the beard, the burgundy and lilac waistcoat and the gold pocket watch. Everything else was chaos, and my stress levels were through the roof, but I did look good. It didn’t last.

These days, I dress predominantly for comfort. Given that there isn’t much cause for me to dress formally, my vast array of shirts goes unworn, the two boxes of ties that I have somehow accumulated (how, I have no idea) are seldom given an airing, and the suits that I do have may fit - I have no idea and probably don’t want to. I really ought to have a sort out but I’m not one to get rid of things that are still in perfectly good condition.

Ros is of a slightly different view. She does see the value in paying a bit more and buying things that look good. Neither of us go mad though, we’re both a bit Presbyterian about such things, but there are some things where spending that extra amount is justified - I believe the phrase is “anchor outfits”, the items that you can mix and match around. For me, that’s jackets. I still miss the forest green corduroy jacket that I bought in the Brussels outlet of Celio, a French menswear chain that had some interesting stuff. I wore it to death and mourned its passing.

Which brings me to today. We’ve been keen to support the independent retail outlets near us, as they offer something a bit different to the retail chains, and may well represent the future of Ipswich as a shopping destination. And we’d seen a corduroy jacket in the window of a shop on St Peter’s Street which looked rather like something I’d wear.

So, as Christmas is approaching, I felt that a treat was called for, so we popped in to have a closer look. And, sure enough, there was one that fitted and actually looked good on me. Yes, the price tag was a bit more than I’d normally pay, but having something nice is no bad thing, so I got my card out and committed retail therapy.

Perhaps there is something to be said for being nice to oneself from time to time…

I'm not dying, at least, not yet...

One of the things about getting older is that the NHS tends to take more interest in you. Now, given that I believe that preventative medicine is a thoroughly good thing, I can hardly object to that. And so, when I received an invitation from my surgery to come in for a free NHS Health Check, naturally I thought that taking this up might be a good idea. After all, what's the worst that could happen, right?

Hmmm... well, actually, quite a lot, I guess. I am, after all, the far side of sixty. And whilst the Senior Railcard is a welcome boost to my finances, I am at the stage where things start to go wrong, or simply fail. But you can't dwell on these things and, in any case, isn't it better to know what might be wrong and, if there is anything, what you might do to mitigate it?

The first stage was a blood test, which was relatively pain free. I'm not a huge fan of needles, which does make me wonder why I watch the needle going in, but that was alright. All I then had to do was wait a week and return for the inevitable lecture about being less of a walrus.

As it turned out though, the whole walrus thing went unremarked upon. My blood pressure is fine, blood sugars fine, cholesterol a bit on the high side but nothing remarkable and, in short, if I lost some weight, I'd be in pretty good health for a man of my age. That is, as you might imagine, modestly reassuring. I might start paying more attention as I cross roads going forward, but otherwise, I have nothing obvious to worry about.

There is, however, a sense that I can't simply maintain the habits that I always have. I eat reasonably well, thanks to Ros, and I really don't drink that much any more, so much so that I'm beginning to run up a significant balance with the wine club I'm a member of. Holidays are an issue in that they tend to be the primary cause of weight gain, and I'm not terribly disciplined when it comes to diets.

On the other hand, the 10,000 steps each day are a positive, and I tend not to experience much in the way of stress, despite the things I do both professionally and for "leisure" - is being a Liberal Democrat leisure? Life is, in most ways, good.

Ah well, onwards and upwards (in a chronological sense, at least)...

For Gawd's sake, get me to the Parish Council on time...

I am, allegedly, a responsible adult. At least, I am the Chair of a Parish Council which should, theoretically, make me a responsible adult - I leave that to others to judge. But, in planning our trip to Tirana, I had suffered something of a diary malfunction which meant that, whilst I was starting my day with an excellent breakfast in our Tirana hotel, I was supposed to be finishing it at a Council meeting in Creeting St Peter. And, given that we're a councillor short, we don't have a lot of wriggle room in terms of absences.

There is only one British Airways flight per day to Tirana, and the Monday flight leaves Mother Teresa International at 13.35, with a scheduled arrival time at Heathrow's Terminal 5 at 16.05. That notionally gave me three hours and twenty-five minutes to exit the aircraft, clear immigration, collect our luggage, catch two trains to Stowmarket and have a taxi drop me outside the Church Room. Easy, right? No reason to be slightly on edge, eh?

The weather was still nice, and we were packed and ready to go, so we took the opportunity to take a last stroll around the city centre before heading for the airport where we encountered a rather jolly, helpful chap who turned out to be the local British Airways manager. I did wonder for a moment if he was real, as that's not always what you expect from their ground staff...

The lounge is nice enough, with homemade cake and an interesting selection of Albanian food and wine, but we did need to spend the last of our Albanian Lek - a bottle of Albanian rose did the job - before we headed to the gate a little earlier than we had been told to, only to find that the flight was already boarding. It was all so efficient, indeed, that we were ready to go ten minutes early. I might yet make my meeting...

There is, if you're flying into Heathrow, every likelihood that you'll end up in a holding pattern over East London for ages, but after an uneventful flight, we were on the ground early and, whilst immigration was busy, we made good time through the e-gates. My hopes of catching the 16.50 Elizabeth Line train to Liverpool Street were rising.

And yet, and yet, where was the luggage? We reached the carousel only to find a distinct lack of activity. We waited... and waited, as time ticked on. I was just beginning to give up hope when, at 16.41, there was a flurry of bags and, grabbing mine, we made haste to the Elizabeth Line station where the train was still waiting for us.

The connection at Liverpool Street for the 18.00 Norwich train was a relatively easy one, and I had a taxi waiting for me at Stowmarket when I arrived there at 19.20, which whisked me to the Church Room in the nick of time. 

But a responsibility is a responsibility, right?...

In which we mingle with Albania's influencer set...

I am, it's fair to say, not the sort of person who photographs their meals, poses in front of hot venues or influences very much, if anything. I understand that there are (mostly) young people who do these things, and I wouldn't stand in their way for one moment, but such behaviour mostly engenders a wry smile and attempts to make sure that I'm out of shot. I hadn't expected to encounter such a phenomenon in Tirana though.

Perhaps I shouldn't have been surprised - Albania has a relatively youthful population, despite significant levels of outward migration. And, in truth given that I don't meet many young people even in the workplace, my grasp on youth culture is tenuous at lbest.

Having found another highly-regarded restaurant, we walked across town and found ourselves in a somewhat dimly-lit street. At least, it was dimly-lit in the context of my gradually deteriorating eyesight but I spotted our destination and walked through the rather stylish entrance to be met by two stick-thin young woman, dressed wholly in black, who were tasked with greeting guests, taking their coats and suchlike.

It was at this point that I began to sense that their idea of "smart casual" and mine were slightly at odds. But the restaurant was still quiet - yes, we were early again - and whilst we had clearly chosen one of the hottest restaurants in town, I take the viewpoint that, if I'm the one paying, then I have the right to be treated properly. Our waiter was charm itself though, and we settled down to peruse the menu.

SALT is one of a pair of restaurants - the other is in Pristina, Kosovo's capital - and the goal is evidently to serve high quality food in an elegant setting. Clearly, they've convinced so far, as we were increasingly surrounded by young people taking photographs of each other and the food, posing in front of the decorations and the like. We focused on the food, pretending that we weren't raising the average age of the customers by a decade or two.

One thing that surprised me was that not only was virtually everyone around us young, but female, which strikes me as not being that common. I suspect that they don't eat much though, and the kitchen were probably grateful for customers who actually eat more than a light salad.

And, it has to be said that the food was very good indeed. I would even go as far to suggest that, if you're in Tirana by any chance, it is well worth a detour. Do book in advance, just in case, but their website is easy to use.

As meals out go, it was a nice way to finish our trip. And we did rather have to be back home...

A day by the seaside, Albanian style

Whilst Albania isn't exactly a big place - just over two hundred miles from north to south and less than one hundred from east to west - it isn't entirely easy to get around. There are, theoretically, at least, trains, but once you leave the major highways, the road system is sub-optimal and the mountainous terrain means that straight lines are few and far between. But Tirana is pretty central and there is a shiny new highway linking it to Durres, the country's main port and access point for ferries from Italy. It's also a city with a history dating back to to the 7th Century B.C.

Sunday dawned bright, sunny and mild, so why not go to the seaside for the day? Now, normally, this would involve me scouring the internet for public transport options but, frankly, there's little in the way of readily available information, time was short given that the sun would set at 4 p.m. and taxis are quite reasonable, we organised a taxi to take us to the seaside. Admittedly, I hadn't given any thought as to how we might get back but...

And for approximately £25, we were whisked to the promenade overlooking the Adriatic Sea. The sun was shining, and myriad Albanian families were out enjoying themselves. Not in the water, or on the beach, because the water wasn't that inviting and what beaches there are are somewhere else, but there's a swish hotel nearing completion (a Crowne Plaza for those interested in such things) and a sense that more visitors would be welcome.

There are plenty of reasonably priced fish restaurants and coffee shops, and it was nice to idly stroll along the shore.

Durres is also famous for something that wasn't rediscovered until the 1960s, its Roman amphitheatre, thought to be the largest every built in the Balkans and capable of holding 15,000 enthusiastic citizens for gladiator fights and the like. It is open to the public but it would be fair to say that it hasn't been developed to the extent that a similar attraction elsewhere might be. What that means is that there isn't much in the way of signage, access is a bit treacherous but it is cheap to visit.

You'll also notice that it has been encroached upon somewhat, the disadvantage of having nobody appreciate that it was there. And maybe, at some point, someone will remedy that but in the meantime, it's still pretty impressive.

By now we were in need of sustenance though. Fortunately, like so many Southern European countries, there's always a readily available sweet treat, and we were able to find a café which served good coffee and an even better piece of cake. Mmmmm... cake...

But it was time to head back to the capital. I had booked a table for dinner...

Just an ordinary Saturday in Tirana…

I may have mentioned that our hotel in Tirana was part of the Air Albania Arena. What I have hitherto failed to mention, and discovered rather late in the day, was that the Albanian national football team were due to play a home UEFA Nations League fixture whilst we were in town. I did think about buying tickets, but they had officially sold out and I wasn’t wildly keen on spending significant sums of money on the grey market to see a game between two teams I don’t really know.

In fairness, the “mystery” element doesn’t phase me that much, as I proved a few years back in Tbilisi. But that was rather cheaper, and there was never a possibility of a full house to see anyone play Gibraltar. The Czech Republic, on the other hand…

And, as it turned out, the Czechs were staying with us - very convenient for the stadium, obviously.

But we had plans.

Tirana has two major parks, one of which was known as “Big Park” and surrounds an artificial lake to the south of the city centre, close to our hotel. And, now that the sunshine had returned, it offered an excellent place for a gentle stroll.

Both Ros and I enjoy strolling through neighbourhoods and parks in new places - they give you a better sense of how real life operates in a way that just visiting tourist attractions never quite can. And Big Park was as good as one might hope, with little stalls selling toys or snacks and drinks dotted about, and Albanians of all ages out enjoying the warmth of a fine November day.

The lake itself is pleasant enough, especially where trees shade the banks, and the park is generally pretty well maintained which reinforced our sense that civic pride is quite strong.

As we walked back towards our hotel though, you could tell that excitement was beginning to mount around the Air Albania Arena, with crowds beginning to flock to the nearby bars and coffee shops. Albania were still in with a decent shot at promotion to League A, with two wins in their final group games, both in Tirana, pretty much guaranteed to get them to the promised land.

We had other plans though, which involved heading across town. As Ros is a member of the European Affairs Select Committee in the Lords, she had contacted our Embassy in Tirana, and an invitation to tea had been forthcoming from our recently-appointed Ambassador. Usually, my role in such events is as “travelling spouse” - Ros is obviously of far more interest to our diplomats than I am - but given that I’m not unfamiliar with international politics, I do chip in with the odd question.

Impressively, Nicholas Abbott is an Albanian speaker, having studied the language prior to being appointed “Our Man in Pristina” in 2019. And, on finding the Residence, we were welcomed in for tea and some rather nice banana bread (and I don’t even like bananas).

Having met a few of our Diplomatic Corps over the years, I’ve always been impressed by their professionalism and enthusiasm and nothing was changed by this meeting. We were told about his outreach programme and about such of the Embassy’s achievements in building relationships between the two countries and, whilst you do need to remind yourself that he is a diplomat, it’s reassuring to know that clever, engaging people are out there, representing us in foreign capitals across the globe.

We tried not to outstay our welcome, after all, it was a Saturday and even Ambassadors need some downtime, so we thanked His Excellency for his hospitality and headed out towards the maelstrom…

The Air Albania Arena seats approximately 21,000 spectators, and there clearly weren’t going to be that many away supporters. The usual sellers of football merchandise were out in force and the bars increasingly packed as the 8.45 p.m. kickoff approached.

I’d planned for this though, having booked a table in the hotel restaurant. Normally, I wouldn’t do that - in so many places, the hotel restaurant in a rather soulless afterthought but, in cities that don’t have many good hotels, that rule is usually suspended. And here, with good cause.

Somewhat to our surprise though, the restaurant, and especially the tables outside, were full of football fans getting the beers in before the game but behaving entirely reasonably. We ate a very good meal and watched a bunch of people with flags and scarves as they slowly filtered away towards their seats in the stadium.

It turned out that, if you had the right room in the hotel, you had a clear view of events on the pitch. We weren’t that lucky although, as it turned out, the game was fated to end as a rather drab 0-0 draw.

It also demonstrated that the soundproofing was pretty good, as 20,000 people left the stadium without disturbing us…

So, about this hip and trendy Albania I was told about...

Normally, when we go places, I take special care to organise dinner on Friday and Saturday nights because, you know how it is, places are busiest and you really don't want to be in a strange city, walking from restaurant to restaurant in the hope that they'll have a table free. I might have been happy enough to wing it in my twenties and thirties but not now.

And, in most places, you can make reservations online and relax in the confidence that regardless of what else happens, you've got a decent meal to look forward to. Guidebooks will suggest the sort of places you might choose. This is not really true in Tirana - there is only one useful guidebook, the Bradt guide - and online booking is still in its infancy.

However, the advantage of staying in a really good hotel is that the concierge will help you with the language barrier and know whether or not a restaurant (a) still exists and (b) is any good. I'd found a fish restaurant relatively nearby which came recommended and so I asked the concierge to make a booking for me, which she kindly did.

The sun sets in Tirana at pretty much the same time as it does in London at this time of year, so it was dark by the time we set off for our gentle stroll to Galeone, some twelve minutes from our sanctuary. And, as we discovered, it's in an area of the city which is rather livelier than the city centre proper, full of cafes, restaurants and young people out enjoying themselves.

The restaurant, however, was seemingly deserted. And that's because Tirana is like so many Southern European cities, a place where people eat late. The service was friendly though, and our total lack of Albanian proved to be no obstacle. As for the seafood, my octopus carpaccio and sea bream were excellent, and the Albanian white wine - yes, Albania is a wine producing country - perfectly drinkable.

One of the things about Albania is that, if you like Italian food, you'll do rather well, as seafood is readily available and the strong historic and cultural links between Italy and Albania - not always voluntary - mean that there is a tradition of awareness of how Italian food should be prepared.

It's clear that, as part of Albania's emergence onto the European stage, that the culinary scene is developing fast. There is plenty of good food to be had, it's relatively cheap by our standards, and there's a strong service culture, with pride taken in presentation and delivery. It reminds me of cities like Sofia and Tallinn where, after the end of Communism, the freedom to do things differently led to a spurt of great restaurants and interesting meals inspired by the available local ingredients.

We weren't going to eat out the next day though...

Unitary Suffolk incoming?…

I was, I admit, somewhat surprised when Creeting St Peter’s county councillor, Keith Welham, noted last Monday at our Parish Council meeting (which reminds me…) that the prospect of a unitary authority or authorities for Suffolk had reared its head again.

It shouldn’t come as a complete surprise, I guess, because the argument that multiple tiers of government are less financially efficient than one has been around for a long time. But it’s a brave government that commits itself to a major reorganisation of local government, especially this early in its mandate.

And, having read the article in The Times yesterday (and no, I’m not linking to it), it strongly suggests that there will be a single Suffolk unitary authority, based on the suggestion that Jim McMahon, the Minister for Local Government, has concluded that an authority serving no less than 500,000 or so is the minimum likely to succeed.

This is not my first rodeo, nor is it Suffolk’s though. Plans to replace six District, one Borough and one County Council at the tail-end of the Brown administration fell in part due to the fact that there was no agreement on what represented a viable size for an authority, that the Minister, Hazel Blears, seemed to have no consistent policy on that point and that both opposition parties were clear that they’d reject any such proposal. It did not end well, with much effort and some resource wasted in the process.

What I didn’t really appreciate then, but do now, is the impact on the relationship between a Parish Council such as mine, and the principal authorities that we have to interact with. We become increasingly remote from the levers of power, and a lot of effort will be required to establish an effective working arrangement with a larger, further away, County Unitary. And, if they withdraw from discretionary service provision, whilst a town or large village might be willing to step in, how does my community, with an annual budget of less than £6,500, do the same?

But, if the Government are serious about (effectively) imposing such a solution on Suffolk, they will inevitably find a way of doing so. My fear is that, instead of one financially struggling County and five junior Districts/Borough doing alright, we’ll end up with a Unitary authority that, as has been the case in places like Somerset, increasingly withdraws from all but mandatory services for lack of funds. And that is not an outcome I look forward to with anything but dread…

A cautious dip into the Regional politics of the Liberal Democrats

You might think that I'd have learnt better, having served as Regional Secretary and then Regional Conference Chair in London, and then as Regional Secretary in the East of England, but I find myself hoping for a somewhat gentler return to the fray as a member of the East of England's Regional Candidates Committee.

Now, that said, there is the small matter of an election to win first, with six candidates for four places. My odds are perhaps improved by the slightly puzzling failure of two of my opponents to submit a manifesto, and the high probability that another will be directly elected to be the Regional Candidates Chair, but I take nothing for granted, even though I'm the only candidate who is running for just the one position.

So, why am I doing it?

I've always been fairly outspoken about the way we select our Parliamentary candidates but also about the importance of preparation by candidates. As I've written in the past, we can create all the pathways we like, but you can't just rock up at the last minute and expect to beat opponents who have been "working the patch" for months and even years. I've seen more of that than I'd like.

As Liberal Democrats, we rely heavily on a good ground war, and any successful Parliamentary candidate needs a strong relationship with the members of the Local Party who, by definition, will do a lot of the heavy lifting of leaflet delivery, canvassing and building the team that will organise, fundraise and all of the other essential stuff that is needed to win. And, no matter how charismatic you think you might be, familiarity matters.

As a member of a Regional Candidates Committee, my hope would be to work on a plan which would allow Local Parties to move as quickly as they'd like, and offer potential candidates the time and scope to effectively pitch for a job. What matters is knowledge and information, and if being a Parliamentary candidate is to be treated as being a bit like a career, you need to give people the tools they need to plan that "career".

That means getting as many potential candidates through the development process as early as possible, so that they can then focus on a seat or seats that they believe they could win selection for, keeping them informed of opportunities as far out as possible and then letting them do what they think needs to be done to be successful.

Meanwhile, a audit of Returning Officers, some refresher training if there are significant rule changes and a call for new RO "blood" will enable the Regional Party to be ready to respond to the needs of the Regional and National Campaign Teams.

I acknowledge that this sounds a bit like a pitch for the job of Regional Candidates Chair. So, why didn't I run for the post? Well, I have plenty of time for the incumbent (who is running for re-election anyway) and not enough time of my own to allow me to lead in the way I would see fit. I am, apparently, a busy person with everything I'm doing in the Town and Parish Council sector, and besides, it feels a bit presumptuous to turn up and run for a serious position. Besides, I'm not convinced that the powers that be who currently run English Candidates Committee would be wildly keen on having me back - I was something of a "wild child" in those days (relative to the membership of the Committee, that is). Ironically, more than a decade away has seen me mellow... a bit...

A gentle introduction to Albanian politics

Friday morning dawned, and we had an appointment in the diary. But it was time to explore, and thus time for a walk.

Tirana is designed on a north-south axis, which runs from the Technical University at the southern end, leads you up Bulevardi Deshmoret E Kombit across the River Lana (described as an open drain by one commentator) to Sheshi Skenderbej, one of those vast setpiece and rather stark squares that appears to have been so attractive to communist planners.

I guess that it works if you want to hold military parades but, as a public space, it needs filling with something. Many of the surrounding buildings are of the "marble box" variety, although the National Museum may be about to emerge from its current disguise as something rather more pleasing to the eye.

The former Mayor of Tirana, and now Albania's Prime Minister, Edi Rama, took the view that the cheapest way to brighten up the city was literally to paint things in bright colours. And, all credit to him, it clearly worked, although sunshine does help. Tirana is an unexpectedly cheerful place, with trees and a sense of civic pride. And, having been to Moldova, where you probably couldn't say the same of Chisinau, it does make a difference.

There is a vast central mosque, but it isn't historic, having been built recently, although, in the corner of Sheshi Skanderbej, there is the Et'hem Bey Mosque, rather dwarfed by its surroundings, with a clock tower next to it. It does feel a little out of place, but it's fairly miraculous that it survived at all, given that the Hoxha regime persecuted religious practice and declared Albania an atheist state in 1967.

We had somewhere to be though, and with ID in hand, we arrived at a barrier where a security guard stopped us. We don't speak Albanian, funnily enough, and the security guard didn't speak any English it seemed, but the idea that we were here on "business" seemed to get across and, returning to his little hut, he emerged with a piece of official looking paper with our names on it.

The Albanian Parliament isn't the most imposing building. You enter a small lobby with the usual security screening equipment and there's a door in front of you which, as it turned out, leads directly into the Parliamentary chamber. This looks curiously like a small theatre which, as it turned out, was exactly what the building was prior to conversion, a puppet theatre to be precise (cue jokes about politicians...).

Our hosts were most welcoming, and we were escorted into the chamber and encouraged to sit in the front row - the nearest I'm ever likely to get to being a Select Committee Chair - whilst a young lady from the Parliament's Civic Engagement Team explained how things work in the Albanian Parliament in fluent English. There was some detail on the internal politics and some of the issues that arise, and we offered some thoughts in response. 

There is an interesting similarity between the Scottish Parliament and its Albanian counterpart in that both have an electoral system designed to avoid one-party majorities - Albania uses multi-member constituencies based on the twelve counties, with the D'Hondt system used to decide who wins.

In Albania, however, the political fragmentation which usually follows from the introduction of such a system hasn't happened yet, with two dominant players still in place. The Socialist Party has a majority of seats, albeit it a small one, but remains disciplined, unlike the opposition Democratic Party.

All in all, it was a very interesting opportunity to learn more about the politics of a country which seldom gets much positive coverage, and we emerged from it somewhat the wiser.

As we left, I spotted a side gate which we could exit through. It turned out, as security guards hurried towards us that, although it was open and seemingly led to a public street, we were really encouraged to use the main entrance. They let us out that way anyway, smiling as they waved us on. it all felt very Albanian, formal but friendly...

You probably don't remember me, Gillian Gloyer, but I owe you a debt of gratitude...

This is, it seems, the only guidebook that focuses entirely on Albania. No, there isn't a "Lonely Planet Albania", usually my first choice of guidebook if I'm going somewhere a little of the beaten path. No, if there's a guidebook to the Southern Balkans, you might find a section on Albania, but I guess that the demand isn't there.

I get that. Albania isn't a huge country, with a population of less than three million, internal travel isn't straightforward (don't ask about trains), and there haven't traditionally been many direct flights to Tirana, although that is changing, and fast. But you'd think that there might be more enthusiasm to write guides, especially given that it has increasingly appeared on lists of interesting places to explore.

But no, not yet, is the answer. But Bradt are on the seventh edition of "Albania", so that's what I bought, courtesy of our local independent bookshop, Dial Lane Books (very sound, socially aware, probably knit their own muesli but a great resource in a town that needs more such things).

The name of the author caught my eye though. Gillian Gloyer? That Gillian Gloyer? The legendary Scottish Young Liberal who with others, blazed a trail through the International Federation of Liberal and Radical Youth (IFLRY) in its radical glory days? I did some research. And yes, it is her. Before my time, I admit, but she was still spoken of by the time I arrived in the (very) early nineties.

And the guidebook? Well, the seventh edition is now more than two years old, having been published in June 2022, and suffers as all guidebooks do, from the increasingly rapid development (and failure in some cases) of hotels and, in particular, restaurants, but as a means of guiding your steps and your expectations, it was a very successful purchase indeed. And, if I were to return at some point, with the intention of getting beyond Tirana, I would probably count on it again.

So, thank you, Gillian, wherever you are...

Deep in the Balkans, a long weekend in Albania...

I have now established a tradition that birthdays with a zero in them merit a trip to somewhere new and, potentially, exciting. Admittedly, it's a tradition that might not get much of a run, given that I'm now officially in my sixties, but nonetheless, if in twenty years I report back from Luanda or Dili, you'll know that I'm still in decent form.

But, given that we're been doing a lot of travelling, I wasn't going to be quite so ambitious for this particular celebration. And, I'd heard a lot about Albania - apparently an up and coming destination, now served by British Airways - so, for my seventy-third country, it seemed like a decent choice.

Albania does suggest a rather darker corner of Europe, and its reputation for blood feuds, poverty and isolationism perhaps doesn't appear very inviting, but I'd booked us into a nice hotel - of which more later - and we'd made a few contacts in advance, which offered some reassurance. After all, if somewhere turns out to be truly awful, you can always hide out in the hotel and get some light pampering.

The weather wasn't great when we descended through a rather murky sky into Mother Teresa International Airport - she's a bit of a national hero here, even if she was (whisper it quietly) actually born in modern day North Macedonia. We cleared immigration and customs quickly and found a taxi to take us to the hotel. So far, so good.

Our hotel turned out to be part of the new Air Albania Arena, a rather snazzy facility which, despite appearances, holds the national football stadium. On the outside, expensive shops, cafes and restaurants, with anonymous large gates scattered amongst them which lead to the various sections of the stadium. The tower on the left is the hotel, a Marriott, and we were on the twenty-third floor, virtually at the top.

Our room wasn't ready - we were a bit early in truth - but we were invited to sit in their M Club lounge whilst it was prepared, so no problem there. We were told about the happy "hour" with free drinks and snacks from 5.30 until 8.30, which sounded promising, and invited to call in at any time of day or night to pick up soft drinks or snacks, which sounded even better.

And, soon enough, the room was ready. Nice room, amazing view across Tirana and over to the low range of hills which separate the city from the Adriatic Sea. Admittedly, as usual, there were more buttons to control the lights and even the curtains than I would ideally like, but very nice all the same.

It was time for a little explore, so we walked into the centre of the city. I will admit that, if you're coming in the hope of enjoying some historic architecture, Tirana is likely to disappoint, as it wasn't really anywhere of significance until it became the capital in 1912. And, to be honest, the Stalinist design which did go up after World War II isn't likely to draw impassioned architecture students any time soon.

It was a pleasant enough orientation though and with night falling and the lure of free drinks, we headed back to our hotel. We'd just settled in when there was a knock on the door. Outside was a nice man with... cake and a card.

Yes, they were marking my birthday with what turned out to be a stunningly rich chocolate cake, more than enough to share between the two of us - note the healthy fruit on top - with a convenient sign made out of more chocolate.

And that's why, when you sign up for a hotel chain's frequent guest programme, you give them your birth date...

As we ate our cake, in anticipation of a pleasant evening in the M Club lounge, I relaxed. Everything was going to be just fine...

Vote for me... please?

"Who are these two miscreants?", I hear you ask. On my right is Daniel Obst, who is my usual co-Returning Officer at ALDE Congresses. We're considered to be sound, independent and competent which, given that he's a judge and I'm a tax inspector, is probably reassuring in a whole bunch of ways. The picture was taken in Stockholm last year, as we successfully delivered another uncontroversial set of Bureau elections.

In truth, it's a much less onerous job these days, as voting is electronic, and our role is more to reassure, make eligibility rulings and ensure that the process runs smoothly and the result accepted by all candidates.

But why this picture, and why now?

Well, I'm running for election, and I needed a photograph of myself to include in the manifesto. The catch is that there just aren't that many pictures of me, and even fewer "good" ones. And, by good, I mean pictures where I look vaguely as though I don't mind being photographed and not like a walrus in a jacket. This one is one of the better ones and, given that I'm running for a place on my Regional Candidates Committee, a picture with the word "elections" on it seems somewhat apposite.

Unusually, I'm involved in a contested election - there are six candidates for four places - and I don't really know my opponents that well. In fact, the only one who I am confident I would recognise in a room full of Liberal Democrats is the current Regional Candidates Chair.

And, perhaps unusually, the East of England Regional Party elections are hotly contested, with the only uncontested posts being Secretary (plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose...) and the four places on the Regional Policy Committee. Even the Presidency is contested which is... unexpected...

This means that I'm theoretically required to campaign, although how you do that when you have no access to a membership list is beyond me. And yes, I accept that ordinary members in, say, Hertsmere, probably don't want to inundated with phone calls and e-mails from me and a cast of dozens. That means that I'm going to have to rely on my good reputation, a track record of competence and a good social media game. Oh, and the contacts that I've made over forty years in the Party, which may count for something.

I do get a manifesto - A5, landscape, which doesn't really allow for an expansive statement of the wonders I have wrought over the years and those I might perform if elected, but this is what I've written...

I’m Mark Valladares and I want your vote to be part of the next Regional Candidates Committee. Why me, and why now?

A General Election may be more than four years away, but there’s a lot of work to do even now. The Selection Rules are being reviewed, we need to find and approve more potential PPCs, train Returning Officers and Assistant Returning Officers, and encourage Local Parties to start their selections earlier and support them as they go through it. None of it should be left to the last minute.

And this can’t be done in isolation, as we need to work across the Party to help meet our wider goals. So, what skills and experience would I bring to the Regional Candidates Committee?

• I know how our candidate systems work, as a veteran Returning Officer over more than thirty years, a past candidate assessor and a former member of the English Candidates Committee.

• I appreciate the burden that our processes can place on Local Parties, having led moves to simplify the Selection Rules and make it easier for non-target seats to choose their Parliamentary candidates

• As a former Regional Secretary in two English Regions, I understand how Regional Parties work, as well as the importance of reporting back

I’m a member of the Ipswich Local Party, sit on Federal Council and, in my spare time, I’m the Chair of a small Parish Council in mid-Suffolk. Questions, or simply want to know me better? You can reach me on markv233@aol.com, check me out on Bluesky, or on my blog.

I think that it sums me up pretty well, demonstrates my strengths and, all things being equal, should give me a chance to win. Time will tell, I guess...

The gathering of responsibility or, how one thing leads to another...

So, I've become the Chair of the Micro Councils Network of the National Association of Local Councils (NALC), right? Quite prestigious, I suppose, and a long way from being the Chair of a tiny Parish Council in deepest mid-Suffolk. But it only meets four times a year, and I have a professional team who are there to support me and organise things, so that's not too challenging, is it?

And, of course, that's probably too good to be true, isn't it? So, I shouldn't have been too surprised when I was invited to join the Smaller Councils Committee of NALC - after all, it is a platform on which to raise the issues of the Micro Council sector. How could I refuse? And, of course, I didn't.

What happened next was almost predictable. I was offered an induction into the work of the Committee from either a member of the professional team or the Vice Chair. My antennae twitched... "Vice Chair"? What happened to the Chair? So, I read the minutes of the recent committee meetings and discovered that there hadn't been a Chair since April - the Chair has to be a member of the National Assembly and nobody had come forward.

It wasn't long before the other shoe dropped, and an e-mail arrived from a senior colleague, asking me if I'd be willing to take on the role. I slept on it. And then I decided to go for it. Let's be honest, I'm fairly strongly of the view that there must be someone better qualified than I am, but there apparently isn't anyone and so, given that there should be a Chair, it seems that I am now (subject to a vote of the Committee, terms and conditions apply etc. etc) the Chair designate of the NALC Smaller Councils Committee, the voice of thousands of Town and Parish Councils across England whose electorate is less than 6,000. It would be reasonable to assume that Creeting St Peter qualifies...

I've had a conversation with my Vice Chair, who seems to be more than capable and offers a usefully different perspective - she's a Town Clerk - and I've started preparing for my first official meeting on 5 November, which should be interesting. It also means that, all being well, I'll be in post in time for the NALC Annual General Meeting two days later.

I haven't let the grass grow under my feet though. I was part of the two hour drop-in session at the ALDC stand at Federal Conference, talking to conference delegates about what we do and why Parish and Town Councils are such a good thing. We even offered some advice for councillors faced with challenging situations, which is sort of what NALC is there for. And I've given some thought as to what action Smaller Councils Committee could take to promote those parts of the NALC legislative agenda that particularly impact on our end of the sector.

So, the next few months could be interesting, as I settle into my new roles. At least there isn't anything else that I can be persuaded to take on, right?...

My Parish may be small, but it is, apparently, mighty...

The thing about becoming a rather infrequent blogger is that, well, I don't actually get around to telling anyone what I've been doing. And, what that means is that, when I do pick up my "digital quill", there's a risk that the context is missing.

And, perhaps unexpectedly, I've become somewhat busy. Let me explain...

I've been a member of the National Assembly of the National Association of Local Councils (NALC) for four years (really, that long?), representing Suffolk, and I've found a niche for myself, agitating for better financial reporting, seeking greater diversity and, something close to my heart, acting as a voice for the many very small Parish Councils who traditionally don't have perhaps as much influence on the work of NALC as the larger member councils.

That's not a criticism, in truth. Many "micro" Parish Councils are pretty parochial, interested in matters within, or close to, the Parish boundaries and not much else. We seldom provide services as such, and with (in my case) an annual budget of approximately £6,500, after paying our Clerk, there is not much left to do anything beyond managing a small playground, ensuring the village green is mowed and the dog bins emptied.

But what we lack in service provision, we make up for in representation. We respond to planning applications, we lobby our District and County Councillors for improved services or, sometimes, a more sympathetic delivery of the ones that exist. We are hyper-local government.

And, in lobbying for our corner of the Town and Parish Council sector within NALC, I had sought the creation of a network for micro-councils. NALC has a number of networks, designed to bring together interest groups so that they can discuss their particular issues, influence the work of NALC generally, and offer support and ideas for best practice. There's one for the largest councils in the sector, one for women councillors, one for LGBT+ councillors, one for young councillors, as well as two thematic ones, on the climate emergency and for coastal communities.

Now, there is a Micro Councils Network and its first meeting took place at the end of July. I thought that I ought to turn up, given that I had lobbied for it, and, having done so, looked forward to seeing whether or not it would work. It did need a couple of co-Chairs and I waited to see who would come forward. And waited... Eventually, I concluded that, if nobody else was willing, I would have to step forward. Perhaps, that might trigger another volunteer. it didn't, and so I have become the Chair of the NALC Micro Councils Network.

There was a presentation from the Centre for Aging Better, suggesting ways to make life easier for the elderly in our communities - something that is particularly salient in small, often quite isolated, villages. And we invited those on the Zoom call to suggest issues for future discussion - guest speakers often introduce ideas or concepts that trigger action at our local level.

And so, I gained some new responsibility. It wasn't going to end there though, was it?...