5 May - part 1: not everything goes to plan…

Up early to catch my flight, which involves reaching Bauerfield International Airport at 6.45 a.m. for my 7.30 flight to Tanna. I make it easily enough, check in and wait for something to happen… and wait… and wait… before there is a scurry of activity, and the airport fire engine heads out towards the runway. Air Vanuatu’s pride and joy, its only Boeing 737, has had a fire warning light activate, and they’re heading back to Port Vila. Naturally, the runway is now closed and we’re going nowhere.

Fortunately, the flight lands safely and, some hour or so late, Air Vanuatu flight NF242 to Dillons Bay is called. I admit to some confusion at this point, as I’m on flight NF242, and according to my Air Vanuatu supplied itinerary, it’s meant to be a non-stop flight to Tanna. Apparently not… but I head out of the terminal building to be confronted by a metallic mosquito with ’Vanuatu’ painted on the tail in red. I admit that I am aware that the plane is an eight-seater, but I hadn’t realised that it would be quite this small.

Edward, our pilot, gives us the safety talk, I.e. asking us to use our seatbelts, and we are off into a grey, damp sky. This clears quickly, leaving an outrageously blue sky to fly in en route to the island of Erromango. Soon enough, what I can only describe as an emerald green mountain emerges from a stunningly azure sea which must mean that we’ve reached Dillons Bay. Looking for the airport, I note an area without trees which looks as though someone has taken a strimmer to it. This, I am advised, is the airport. There is nothing as fancy as a runway, although someone has kindly removed the cows (who have left plenty of evidence of their previous occupation).

Dillons Bay doesn’t get too many flights and, given that the island has two airports to serve a population of 1,500, comes as no great surprise. However, there is an Air Vanuatu agent and a baggage handler, and we all get out for a wander whilst loading and unloading takes place. We drop off four passengers from Vila and pick up one for Tanna before setting off again.

The plane scurries through the air at about 3,000 feet for the twenty-three minute flight, and I decide to forgive Air Vanuatu for the total lack of inflight service, magazine or, for that matter, entertainment of any sort other than the view out of the window. On the other hand, it is a sensational view…

And so, to Tanna. There should be someone waiting for me. There isn’t. Hmm… Vanuatu time kicks in again. Various kind strangers explain that they’re sure that someone will turn up eventually. An hour later, and two hours after my scheduled arrival time in Tanna, a young man wanders up and explains that they thought that I wasn’t coming in on the early flight… I smile sweetly… it’s going to be that sort of day…

4 May - if I’m going to get wet anyway…

I needed to get away again, and so decided to take a trip to see the Mele cascades. The idea is that you get a nature walk, a pleasant stroll and a chance to play in the cascades. So, I packed some swimwear and caught the bus out of town. I had astutely decided to wear my Fijian sandals and change into my swim shorts and a t-shirt before we set off on the walk. As it decided to pour down with (albeit) warm rain almost immediately, I felt vindicated as we made our way up the hillside, through torrents of water.

Robert, our guide, showed us tricks with plants, and explained the uses to which various leaves and trees are put. He then took us to the lookout point, from which we could look out over the south-west of Efate (the island on which Port Vila stands), just as the rain stopped. Vanuatu is a very pretty place in a completely disorganised way. Things just grow, to the point where most villagers carry machetes with them so that they can be sure of getting home.

Onwards and upwards to the cascades, and were they worth the walk! Wading through cascading water to the main waterfall, where we were encouraged to splash about, stand under the falling water, and find the small cave behind one part of the falls. The water was a bit cold, although bearable enough. There are even pictures of me getting wet, a very rare event, as my family will testify…

On the way back down, Robert sang a few songs from his church, all very reminiscent of family occasions in India, with the same sort of feeling, a perfect end to a rather good day. But tomorrow will see the excitement…

3 May - at last to Tanna? I need a lie-down…

Pentecost having finally bitten the dust due to a waterlogged airport, I have finally managed to find a way to get to Tanna. I’ve managed to get the last seat on the early morning Air Vanuatu flight, non-stop to Tanna International, where I will be picked up and taken to see the volcano… on Saturday. I can only hope that all goes to schedule…

So, another lazy day by the pool but, by way of variety, I took the opportunity to further de-stress with ninety minutes of massage, courtesy of Sabrina (not the teenage witch, although she does possess magic in her hands!). Relaxation is now so ingrained that I actually fell asleep for a few moments…

And then to dinner, and the hotel were laying on a Melanesian Feast. Who could resist, especially as it gave me a chance to try something new, rousette, or flying fox. This is, I’m led to understand, cute and furry, but then, so are llama and reindeer, and I didn’t hesitate to eat them. For the record, cooked in red wine, flying fox tastes a bit like kidney to my mind, and would probably make a great pie with steak. There was also poulet fish, so called because it apparently tastes like chicken. I’m not convinced…

We also had dancing from a group from the Banks Islands, in northern Vanuatu. I’ve never been terribly keen on this sort of voyeuristic ‘tourist experience’, as it gives a feel of being put on for the cameras, so to speak. In reality, these dances are done with only friends and family present, and the joy with which such occasions are celebrated makes them truly special.

It was therefore a pleasure to find two of the dancers playing table football in a corner of the hotel on my way back to my room. It would have made a great picture to see these two young men in tribal outfits playing but I decided that it would be just too intrusive.

30 April - 1 May - lost in thought by the pool…

It is so easy to forget how stressful being on holiday is. The torture of having to drink cold beer (Tusker Premium, the local brew) to prevent overheating, the agony of having to sit by the pool for hours on end, the tropical sun beating down as I sit (lie) here under a large umbrella, meditating on what I would do if I were Regional Chair. Do I go for a swim, do I order another beer, do I change the CD to Kylie? Questions, questions…

From this, you might have guessed that I’ve left New Zealand, and you’d be right. Welcome to Port Vila, capital of Vanuatu, an unusual country in that it gained its independence from two countries on the same day, Britain and France.

Vanuatu was formerly the New Hebrides, about as unhelpful and indication as you might find, as it is a green, sun-kissed, Y-shaped group of islands south-east of the Solomon Islands and north-east of Queensland, Australia. We’re eleven hours ahead of GMT here, so whilst it is 3 p.m. here, you’re asleep, well, most of you are, at home in London.

But why here, I hear you ask. Three reasons, the first of which is that I could get here using my frequent flyer miles. Air New Zealand fly here once a week and trying to persuade United Airlines that this was viable was an experience, let me tell you.

“Where would you like to travel today, Mr Valladares?”
“Port Vila, Vanuatu.”
“Where?”
“Port Vila, Vanuatu.”
“United Airlines doesn’t fly there, sir.”
“I know that, but Air New Zealand does, and I want to do it using miles.”
“Oh, well where is Port, where was it you said, sir?”
“Vila, Vanuatu, the airport code is VLI…”

Let’s just say that I managed to get here in the end…

Second and third, there are two very unusual things to see here. Pentecost Island, which is famous for its land diving. Men build a rickety looking tower out of wood, tie vines around their ankles, and jump off of the tower. And no, I’m not planning to do this myself… Next, Tanna Island has one of the world’s most accessible live volcanoes. I want to climb the volcano and have a look. Apparently, only one tourist has died… I wonder where my insurance policy is?

25-29 April - aren’t family wonderful?

Alright, I admit that Auckland is my least favourite place in New Zealand to be a tourist, although Gore in the rain in a close second. But, with two cousins in the city, both of which I’m rather fond of, I like to put in an annual appearance if I can. So, the sixth annual trip to New Zealand was a rather short one but a pleasure all the same. Wednesday was spent travelling, with the centerpiece being a flight in bourgeois class on one of Air New Zealand’s bright, shiny new 777’s. They don’t have first class so business class comes with beds, footstools and a seat at 35° to the direction of flight. With a larger than usual screen to watch, and games to play, the journey fair flew by (yuk, yuk, yuk…).

Thursday was spent with Kim, whose job hunt continues. It was decided that we would go for an afternoon in Devonport (yes, the New Zealand Navy retains a small outpost there), having lunch, strolling up Mount Victoria and drinking coffee. I took the opportunity to renew my habit of having my hair cut in different places, mostly far from home (last six hair cuts in Fiji, Mauritius, London, Goa, Harrogate and Auckland) and felt much better for it. Dinner was taken with Warren, with a few beers and a large steak to wrap things up perfectly.

The next day, Kim decided, should be spent educationally, so we headed for the Auckland War Memorial Museum, a building so solid that it seems to almost pin the city to the landscape. Their exhibit on New Zealand at war is a remarkable one and, if you want to know exactly the type of people New Zealanders are, this might be more helpful than any book. Kiwis don’t do drama, they do duty instead. They are, as a group, some of the most amazingly decent, friendly people you could hope to meet and, at one time, Rachelle and I were seriously planning to emigrate out here. I get the sense that being a bureaucrat here is somewhat different to being one at home…

Saturday was “lounge around at home with family day”. Armed with Monteith’s finest (their Radler beer is outstanding), a bottle of Riesling and some snacks, I arrived at Warren’s house in Birkenhead - see, it really is just like being in England - to be welcomed by Tanya, Warren’s wife, plus their children, Tamara and Georgia. At this stage of the trip, a day spent lounging around catching up on family gossip and talking about the future was a real pleasure.

Sunday morning came as a rude awakening, having to get up at 4 a.m. to catch the next flight. My luggage picked that moment to play up, and I’ll clearly need to do something about this before I leave Auckland again, more’s the pity. At least I made my flight, and was able to recover some of my equilibrium before my arrival in country number 45. But that’s another story…

If I was London’s Regional Chair, I’d…

…well, what exactly would I do?

Before we start, let’s make a few things clear, first, that this isn’t an attack on the current incumbent, nor is it a manifesto for a potential run for 2008.

The role of the Chair is one of leadership and support. If the Officers and Administrator know their jobs, they should be encouraged to get on with it, rather than have the Chair second guess them at every opportunity, so I would focus on developing a regional strategy, nurturing the Executive as a whole and reaching out to our Local Parties.

We’ve clearly not been as good in terms of our medium and long term planning as we might have been in recent times. This Regional Executive accepts that we’ve not necessarily thought things through in terms of co-ordinating our various responsibilities, and I think that if we had had the opportunity to do so, we would have done better.

As we elect new Officers each year, and lose some from the Executive altogether - not always willingly - there is a risk that valuable information and knowledge is lost, especially where the previous post holder has been there for some years. The logical solution is to develop a rolling long-term plan, one that can be reviewed at the beginning of each new year. Such a plan would be a guide for new Executive members and, especially, new Officers, and could be made available to Local Party Chairs and Secretaries, thus allowing Local Parties to organise themselves around the Regional activities that affect them, predominantly regionwide candidate selections. I think that the Chair can, and should, lead on this.

It can be a lonely life, being a Regional Officer, especially if what you do is little understood. As Regional Chair, I would take the time to socialise with my Officers (including their partners and children, if appropriate), and the rest of the Executive, for that matter, to see how they’re getting on and whether they need my support. It would also give me an excuse to throw the odd dinner party - I actually like to cook - or a barbecue, if I wanted to see a group of my colleagues.

Finally, I would attempt to develop a meaningful relationship with the various local parties. Taking the ‘regional party is just a local party with a different type of member’ analogy to its logical outcome, a regular newsletter to local party officers would make us accountable and encourage greater interest and relevancy in the eyes of key local activists. We should also use e-mail to encourage attendance at events and training sessions (we’re already very good at using this means to promote by-elections and other campaign activity - take a bow, Pete Dollimore and his team…).

So, what do you think? Am I being wholly unrealistic?...

24 April - dawdling in the Dandenongs

I needed some fresh air, and a day in the country seemed to be just the thing. So, after a hearty breakfast, I made my way to Southern Cross Station (formerly Spencer Street, for those of you that know the city) to buy a ticket to Belgrave, a terminus station east of Melbourne.

Locating my train, I made myself comfortable for the ride through some curiously familiar suburbs, even though the order was somewhat unusual, the train stopping at Richmond, Camberwell, Mitcham and Bayswater en route to the foothills of the Dandenong Ranges. The Melbourne suburbs are indeed as you might expect if you’re a regular viewer of Neighbours, quiet streets of predominantly single storey dwellings, all wood and surrounded by trees. It looks vaguely idyllic, in the same way that 1950’s suburban America always did in the movies, but I suspect that anyone under the age of 30 is desperate to get away.

“But why the Dandenongs?”, you might ask. Belgrave is probably most famous for being the terminus for Australia’s oldest steam railway, the Puffing Billy, which travels about fifteen miles to Gembrook, a small town about 1,000 feet up in the Dandenongs, in an area of rustic beauty, and my destination for the day.

It is clearly intended for tourists, and the carriages are laid out so that passengers face sideways, i.e. at the view. On the other hand, I was keen on an authentic train experience, and located a real carriage with separate compartments and seats facing each other. This is clearly a minority taste, as I had the carriage to myself, but it allowed me to open the windows and travel like a genuine passenger.

The two hours journey to Gembrook was a delightful one, with some lovely scenery, and the old-fashioned pleasure of a proper train ride. Onwards and upwards we climbed and fell, past Selby and Menzies Creek, Emerald and Lakeside, before the train pulled into Gembrook.

Gembrook presented a problem, in that whilst it is charming, there is little to do. So, discovering a sign for native bush land, I decided that a nature ramble was called for, and took a stroll in the woods. Whilst signs of wildlife were few, it was nice to ‘commune with nature’ and enjoy the green of trees and ferns, offset by a clear blue sky. However, all of that fresh air was making me thirsty, and a beer was called for…

Back on the train, a somewhat faster journey to Belgrave was followed by a zigzag through the eastern suburbs before grabbing dinner at the Rooftop Bar of the Central Hotel in Richmond and on to an early evening in my comfortable hotel room. Tomorrow sees me heading for another country, so I’ll need to be fairly sharp in the morning…

Regional Parties - a force for good or a home for superannuated wannabes?

I am currently serving my third term as an Officer of my Regional Party, and I have frequently mused on the purpose of Regional Parties generally. At times, this has been less than entirely obvious but I feel that I’ve learned enough to explain what they (should) do and why they sometimes fail.

Let me start by saying that, in my view, Regional Parties are much like Local Parties. The skills required to do the job are basically the same, although the complexity of the issues is somewhat greater, and this is where the problems often start. If Local Party Executives are a manifestation of the egos of those involved, then bear in mind that the strongest egos are generally those that rise to the top in Regional politics - read into that what you will…

So let’s look at the responsibilities of a Regional Party, in this instance London, broken down into the various standing committees:

1. Finance and Administration - responsible for financial and staffing issues, it consists of the Regional Officers plus a staff representative. Unfortunately, this often translates into general meetings of the Officers, where the reports that are scheduled to be put to the Regional Executive are considered. The committee has responsibility for hiring and firing staff, including the Campaigns Officer(s), reviewing budget progress (all spending officers are technically present) and is empowered to set up sub-committees to deal with aspects such as fundraising.

2. Campaigns - responsible for campaign overview, support and activist training. Good committees tend to keep a weather eye out for events in their Region, such as council by-elections, and offer support to Local Parties where that support might be helpful. This does not necessarily mean running a full campaign, but might focus on party building, campaign training or recruitment. A key role is to cascade best practice and roll out new ideas.

3. Candidates - the only Regional Committee whose membership is directly elected, as specified in the English Constitution. The committee supports the Regional Candidates Chair (again directly elected) to organise the appointment and training of Returning Officers, assessors, facilitators and selection committee members. The involvement of committee members can vary wildly, depending on the attitude and style of the Regional Candidates Chair, their willingness and/or ability to delegate and the desire of committee members to contribute. This committee also has responsibility for drawing up Selection Rules for Regional Assembly selections (only applicable to London thus far).

4. Conference - a fairly obvious one, I suppose. Most Regions organise two a year, one of which must be the Annual General Meeting, which must take place between 1 October and 30 November, just as it is for Local Parties.

5. Local Parties - this committee is responsible for compliance and discipline issues. If an individual, or even a Local Party, is in breach of the Regional, English or Federal Constitutions, this committee will usually hear the complaint (candidate selection issues fall under the auspices of either the Regional Candidates Committee or its English counterpart). Interestingly, they are not empowered to seek evidence themselves, or to call witnesses for the most part, but sit in judgement on any complaints that are received. Generally speaking, this committee has a membership which brings to bear tremendous experience, and a grasp of legal process can be invaluable, if not actually essential.

6. Policy - an often unsung committee, if only because there is very little evident by way of Regional policy, even in comparatively homogeneous Regions. Very few motions are ever successfully submitted to Federal Conference by the various Regional Parties, and yet I firmly believe that the Regional level is an excellent place to iron out any ‘wrinkles’ that a policy motion might have. This committee is also responsible for drawing up Regional Assembly manifestos where appropriate.

So now we have an idea of the responsibilities assigned to Regional Parties, but how should they operate? Naturally, I have a view on this subject, but I'm going to save it for another occasion and intend to ponder this on a beach far, far away...

23 April: beer, genuinely good for you…

And so I safely reached the southern hemisphere after a remarkably uneventful journey. The plane landed at Sydney to the strains of ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ in rather dark skies leaden with the promise of rain. Me, I was in Sydney solely to get wet and, fortunately, the shower in the business class lounge was free so that I could freshen up before my journey onwards to Melbourne.

So, what does an Englishman do in this city? Obviously, beer should be involved, so I set off for a tour of the Abbotsford Brewery in Carlton, the headquarters of the Fosters Group. They make plenty of decent beer, and the tour is a nice way to ease gently into the city, involving as it does a tram ride to get there (yes, more trams… this trip is going wonderfully well in terms of quirky transport thus far).

I’ve got an excellent picture of myself for another manifesto - who knows what I’ll run for this time… but I include a picture of Ros, whose job it is to show tourists around the brewery and then ply them with free drink afterwards. She’ll even allow you to try pulling a beer for yourself and try not to laugh when you screw up.

And now the sun is setting on my hotel, and I can sit here typing this blog entry watching the glow on the Yarra (right below my window), and Port Philip Bay in the distance.

22 April: the day that never happened

For those of you who know me well, you may recall that 22 April was my wedding anniversary. The advantage of crossing the international date line from west to east is that you miss a day completely. Guess which date?…

21 April: when transit systems attack…

I had planned a little light tourism this morning, with the hope of taking a few pictures for the blog. After a leisurely breakfast, I returned to the room, repacked my bags and sallied forth for a few hours in the city by the bay. First, a ride on the trolley. Line F is San Francisco’s historic trolley car line, with an excellent collection of PCC’s to choose from, painted in the colours of various American cities.

PCC’s were used across the US, in Canada and even in Mexico City, and so effective were they that when attempts were made to replace them with exciting new ones manufactured by Boeing, they easily outlived their rather unreliable replacements (one should be grateful that Boeing’s aircraft are somewhat more reliable!). They’re incredibly popular with tourists but also serve the locals too.

At Fishermans Wharf, I stopped to take a few pictures of Alcatraz and the Golden Gate Bridge before heading for my favourite treat in San Francisco, a scoop of Swenson’s Ice Cream from the original parlour. Of course, part of the treat is that the best way to get there is by cable car… so in classic style, I hitched a ride on the running board and scooted up and over the top of the hill for my scoop of Black Raspberry Marble and yes, it’s every bit as good as it sounds…

And that’s where things started to go awry. On the way back to Market Street, we were held up for a few minutes, which became ten, then twenty. The cable car in front of ours had broken down, thus quite effectively closing down the service… Oh well, never mind, these things happen…

I rushed back to the hotel to clear my room before heading to Colma for one last visit with Walter, Felba and family, only to be delayed by the complete absence of a J-line trolley. Ho hum, quick reroute and a late arrival accordingly.

Next, back into town for a last dash through the shops before heading back to the hotel for my luggage and the journey to the airport. Naturally, a tourist takes this opportunity to walk in front of a bus, blocking traffic on Market Street, and delaying my last trolley - painted in Cincinnati colours (canary yellow with three green bands).

I have at least made it to the airport and, as a homage to my next destination, I’m playing the city’s greatest chanteuse on my laptop… yes, I’m listening to Kylie (who else?). The Boeing 747 is waiting, but I feel a glass of chardonnay coming on…

20 April: a family and friends day

South from the city to Colma again, for more time with Walter and family, before heading to Palo Alto for an evening with the Wilens. Rob and Stefanie are old family friends, and I’ve had the pleasure of watching their three sons, Nathan, Henry and Jesse, grow up over the years.

Unexpectedly, my visit was timed to coincide with Henry’s 11th birthday party with his grandparents, in from Indianapolis. Meantime, Rob and Stefanie are in the middle of preparing for a house move. I do like their current place, and their use of colour is amazing (yes, I know that I’m not the greatest in terms of interior design, but I know what I like…), but I can see why they might want a change of ’residential pace’.

So I found myself in the middle of a ’typical Wilen family afternoon’, with chances to collect children from school, drop them at the violin classes and generally chill. Alright, I’m not a ’family person’ but I do appreciate it in others, and given the astonishingly mature attitudes displayed by both Nathan and Henry (Jesse is still a mite young for that to become truly apparent yet), they are very easy to interact with.

Dinner at a local Italian restaurant was very pleasant before retiring back to the house for coffee and birthday cake. Given the circumstances, and the fact that Rob and Stefanie are in the middle of the whirlwind, so to speak, I took a pleasant stroll back through downtown Palo Alto to the train station to catch the last train back to the city.

18 April: so far, so weary in San Francisco…

So I made my plane, I don’t think that I forgot anything (famous last words!) and the jetlag isn’t too bad… yet. The pressures of day to day life left behind, I can concentrate on having some fun for a while.

It wasn’t a bad flight, although United Airlines need to do something about the inflight entertainment on their Boeing 747’s. No seatback, rather dull movies and insufficient radio choices to keep me amused. A pity really, because Radio XFM is actually quite good. Luckily, the fact that I hadn’t slept for more than twenty-four hours meant that I kept falling asleep, despite (or for some of you, because) my purchase of the 2007 Wisden (a cricket almanac, for those of you who don’t follow this noble sport).

My hotel room is sufficient for my purposes, although this section of Market Street is notable for the rather seedy retail opportunities, and is very convenient for travelling about, with the subway station and tram stop both within 100 yards of the hotel. If I walk east of Market Street, I reach the shopping area of downtown plus one of the cable car lines.

I’ve already made it to Colma, a suburb south of the city, where my second cousin Walter lives with his wife Felba and their four children, Maria, Mary-Jepsy, Emmanuel and Petros. I hadn’t seen them since my trip to New York last year for Leon and Patti’s wedding, and as Petros wasn’t born then, it was great to have a chance to catch up.

19 April: a comedy of errors by the bay - San Francisco Giants 6, St Louis Cardinals 2

I have long been keen on baseball, and usually catch a game when I’m here in the US. Fortunately, the Giants were scheduled to be playing at AT&T Park, one of the newer ballparks in a prime location down by the bay, and at home to the 2006 World Series winners, the Cardinals, too.

So, jetlag partly recovered from, I wandered over to the Willie Mays Gate, picked up a ticket for the game, and made my way up to a prime seat behind the batter with a wonderful view down the field. Whilst Barry Bonds wasn’t playing, it had the makings of a fine game.

It didn’t quite work out that way though, and whilst the two pitchers played pretty well, the key plays all turned out to be based on errors. The Cardinals scored in the third and fourth innings to take a 2-0 lead, before an error by the great Albert Pujols at first base allowed the Giants to get back into it at 2-2. In the sixth inning, a harmless looking ground ball was picked up but the throw to first base pitched into the dirt and thudded into, and out of Pujols’ glove, allowing the Giants batter to reach first. Ryan Klesko then scored a triple with a high swirler into right field which, if the outfielder hadn’t presumed it was going over the wall, might have been caught. Finally, with a rather odd field setting, Rich Aurilia, the Giant’s star hitter this season precision placed the ball into the very spot that the left outfielder had vacated for a double. 5-2 to the Giants, and the Cardinals never recovered.

AT&T Park is a lovely stadium, although on a gray, breezy April afternoon, it’s a mite chilly to be sitting still for three hours, and given the prevailing weather here in the Bay Area, the fact that most of the seating is uncovered is quite unexpected. On the other hand, there is the Splash Zone for entertainment value (if you hit a home run over right field, the ball is likely to end up in the bay itself) and you can watch the planes taking off from Oakland Airport if the play drags. You can even drink real beer, although it doesn’t come cheap…

Ho hum, I’d better dash, I suppose, shopping doesn’t do itself…

Dazed and disorganised of South London writes

In typical Faceless Bureaucrat style, I have left far too much to the last moment. As a result, it's about 4.15 in the morning, my plane leaves in less than six hours, and I'm still putting the final touches to my packing.

I've got beach wear, weather for autumn, bright shirts, gifts, guide books and my laptop (and bits), a camera and I think everything else that I need. I've finally finished the blue envelopes that I promised to write out for Gordon (that's the one in North East Scotland) and enveloped them so that they'll make it to Inverurie, home of the Locos. All I have to do is put them in a postbox - and thank heavens the sorting office is across the street.

I'm sure that it will all end up happily ever after, but I really need to get more organised and, equally importantly, less easily distracted... oh well, back to the escape tunnel...

Another day, another glorious victory...

To Sydenham for an evening with Lewisham and Beckenham North Liberal Democrats for their quiz night. Once again, I found myself in a team with Grace Goodlad, Chair of Orpington, this time with her lovely husband Duncan, his daughter Jessica, and David McBride, leader of our group on Bromley Council.

With Philip Peake as quiz master, I should have guessed that the questions would be harder than on the usual Lib Dem quiz night, and the carnage was truly horrifying. You really shouldn't be able to win rounds with scores of four out of ten, but that was fairly standard. My favourite round was the music one, with ten fifteen second clips, all played backwards. It is a sign of the raw genius of our team that we managed to score 7½ out of 10, and ended up winning by 5½ points overall. The winning score? 43½ out of 100...

So, another successful raid across the border, following the triumph in Bexley two weeks ago. Anyone would think that I only turn up when I have a chance of winning... But seriously, it was a great night out, and I even managed to find time for some plotting and scheming...

21st century bureaucracy

Having been persuaded to purchase a laptop by my mother (who hasn't personally progressed much beyond the answer to the question, "How do you turn it on?"), I used this evening to experiment with real time minuting. My typing speed is not impressive, I admit, operating as I do with two fingers, but it seems to be sufficient to minute a meeting effectively.

Tonight's guinea pigs were Brent Liberal Democrats, who now have a new Secretary, i.e. yours truly. Yes, I know that I don't live in the borough, and that I'm not a member of the Local Party, but all of this will be remedied in due course. So, temporarily, I'm an Officer of two Local Parties, both of which are blessed by having a council group who lead the administration.

And best of all, I don't have a set of minutes to type up, because they're already done! Efficiency, you can't beat it...

Alright, so I have no design sense...

Susanne Lamido has noted a certain difficulty in reading my blog since the last set of colour changes, and in her honour, I've changed to something rather more easy on the eye...

How the Party works (1) - Local Parties

As promised, here is the first of a series of pieces which examine how the Party should work (I'm not saying that it does, mind you) and, inspired by Aaron Trevena, I thought that I should start with the basic building block, Local Parties.

Local Parties actually have remarkable autonomy for the most part, with the right to select their Parliamentary candidate(s), delegates to their Regional Conference and the Federal Conference. However, like every other part of the Party, their freedom to manoeuvre is restricted by the requirement to have a constitution and, more worryingly, by a lack of information about best practice.

As I've said before, constitutions are fascinating things for those of an inquisitive mind. Otherwise, they are as dull as ditchwater but vital to the smooth running of any organisation as they define the framework within which it must operate. Sadly, they aren't often read, and that's where the trouble starts...

The roles of Local Party Officers are pretty obvious;

• Chair - leads the organisation, chairs meetings, has joint responsibility for filing reports required by the Political Parties, Elections and Referenda Act 2000 (PPERA)
• Treasurer - monitors finances, has joint responsibility for filing reports required by the Political Parties, Elections and Referenda Act 2000 (PPERA)
• Secretary - organises and records meetings of the Executive Committee, acts as contact point for other Party bodies
• Membership Secretary - processes new applications for membership, encourages renewals and switches to direct debit

yet there is much more to it. An Officer can do the bare minimum and comply with the requirements but there is so much more that can be done.

I have always believed that active Executive Committees are a good thing, as they can act to inspire a Local Party's membership to participate. So what do I think are the key things that an Executive Committee should do?

1. Inform - a regular Members' Newsletter is core to membership service. Ideally, it gets issued monthly and includes a report back from the Council Group(s), the Chair and your Conference Representatives. This has a cost, I accept, but if you issue it to your members by e-mail where possible (about half of our members have e-mail), your costs are reduced. Regular contact keeps people interested.
2. Entertain - sticking leaflets through doors is what we do, but not all of the time. It must also be accepted that some of our members join as part of their social life and aren't necessarily that political. However, if they are doing something socially, you might encourage them to get involved in the political side of our activity. Alternatively, they might be keen on ideas - and what else is a political party if it isn't about ideas?
3. Include - not everyone can drop everything at short notice, but may be able to join in if they are given the opportunity to slot it in amongst family and work commitments. Are your events accessible to everyone, or are there cultural barriers that might act to exclude?
4. Plan - where do you want to be in three months, a year, five years time? What do you need to get there? Most importantly, who is going to do it and how?
5. Network - there is a world beyond East Bloggshire Liberal Democrats, where policy is written, campaigns are run and things are done differently. Give your members an opportunity to explore that world and you might uncover your Prospective Parliamentary Candidate/Councillor of the future.
   

You'll notice that I haven't touched upon campaigning, something which is rather important... I fully accept that some of my colleagues may not agree with me here, but I take the view that a well run, participatory Local Party can run better campaigns with more success than a weakly run one. In fact, a well run Local Party has less 'bureaucrats' because they're more efficient.

Part of the challenge is to find people who want to take charge of these tasks and do them well. Unfortunately, many Local Party Officers come from that sub-group defined as ‘people willing to do it if you really insist’. They often have other interests and responsibilities, and end up performing their duties if they have time to do so, not exactly an optimal situation.

The other problem is that, until recently, there has been very little support for new Local Party Officers, so you end up with individuals ‘reinventing the wheel’ or, worse still, doing it the way it has always been done under the influence of those who have been around for many years. I say ‘until recently’ because there is now a movement to improve training for new Officers, delivered by Regional Parties.

In my next piece, I’ll look at Regional Parties, one of the great mysteries of the Party structure, and consider how you can use them most effectively to help you achieve your goals.

Dulwich & West Norwood Labour Party - will the lies ever stop?

I got home from Maidstone to find the latest assortment of lies, misrepresentations and evasions on my doormat, otherwise known as 'East Dulwich Rose'.

The claim that Liberal Democrats voted against local ward-based police teams gets another airing, despite the fact that not only the Liberal Democrats but the Conservatives included sufficient funding for such teams in their alternative GLA budgets. Given that the same lie was used by one of their candidates in Bromley last year in the run-up to the local elections, I must presume that it is official London Labour's policy to spread this fiction across the entire city.

So, to make it easy for anyone to verify this, here is the Liberal Democrat budget proposal for that year and, in a spirit of even-handedness, the Conservative proposal. You will notice that both include funding for additional crime prevention measures...

The reference to improving standards at Heber Primary School is a nice touch. Naturally, no credit is given to the local authority, whose improvements led to Southwark being allowed to take education services in house again after the Government had removed responsibility form, yes, you guessed it, the then Labour administration.

On the plus side, there is a lovely picture of Tessa Jowell walking down Lordship Lane with two police officers, obviously detailed to make sure that she didn't get lost so far away from her home. Given the look on her face though, you would think that she has just been arrested for impersonated a competent Secretary of State for Culture, Media & Sport...

I, Mark Valladares, being the Returning Officer for...

... Maidstone and The Weald Liberal Democrats, announce that the votes cast for the selection of a Prospective Parliamentary Candidate are as follows...

It has been some time since I got to say that, and I was beginning to wonder if I would ever get the chance to do so. However, the morning went very well, and we now have a PPC in place for this potentially quite promising West Kent seat, where we were within six votes of Labour for second place in 2005.

Pictured above are Rebecca Hunt (middle), the new PPC, Rochelle Harris (Chair, Maidstone and The Weald Liberal Democrats, right) and yours truly, the Returning Officer, wearing another of those shirts that I warned you about...

As the sun burnt off the early morning mist...

... I was on a train heading towards Maidstone. I'm not really an early morning person but I made an exception for the husting meetings to select a Prospective Parliamentary Candidate for Maidstone and The Weald.

I have to say that the West Kent countryside is quite pretty, and the field of deer near Kemsing was a pleasant surprise, although it isn't God's own county (Sussex). I even managed to grab a hot chocolate at Otford, where I changed train.

Best of all, and somewhat unusually for me, I even made it to my destination on time!

Honestly, I'm really not running for anything!

Wednesday evening saw this faceless bureaucrat in Bexleyheath, attending a Bexley Borough Liberal Democrats quiz night. I'm the Regional contact for Bexley and neighbouring Bromley, so it was an added delight to be able to catch up with Grace Goodlad (pictured left), the new Chair of Orpington Liberal Democrats.

Naturally (!) with all of this talent on our team, we overcame a slow start to sweep all before us, and I headed home with a bottle of wine as a memory (albeit one with a short life expectancy) of a fun evening. Many thanks must go to Chris Eady and his team for providing such excellent entertainment.

Duncan Borrowman (Grace's other half) wasn't able to join us, something to do with a 'Pizza and Politics' evening in Haringey, I understand...

My part in the forthcoming downfall of the Republican Party

Great news yesterday, as my appointment as Co-Chair of the Foreign and Military Policy Commission of Americans for Democratic Action (ADA) was confirmed. As a result, I shall be in Washington, D.C. from June 21 to 24, attending the 60th Annual Convention of this august American liberal group. Those of you who know me will be slightly puzzled on a couple of points, i.e. I’m not American, and I don’t tend to do policy – I’m a bureaucrat.

In fairness, my first ADA Convention was in 1991 when Rachelle and I attended as part of our honeymoon (the first week was spent at Walt Disney World in Florida). I enjoyed a week of being quizzed by senior activists to ensure that I had only honourable intentions towards their National Board member - a bit like meeting the prospective in-laws for the first time, except that there are about two dozen of them.

Over the years, I attended when it could be fitted in around Rachelle’s increasingly hectic political travel schedule and enjoyed the academic environment – ADA has a membership whose views, particularly on foreign and military policy issues, would fit fairly comfortably into the Liberal Democrats, although their links with the unions are far stronger than we could dare dream of.

After Rachelle and I separated, I was slightly surprised to receive a handwritten note from their stalwart Executive Director, Amy Isaacs, passing on her condolences but expressing the hope that I wouldn’t give up ADA. So, last June, I attended the conference on my way back from Fiji and had a blast. Three years of rebuilding my political self-confidence, allied to the networking skills gleaned from Rachelle, allowed me to impose myself to just the right extent and clearly caught the eye of the ‘powers that be’.

Thus, the invite to be Co-Chair of the Foreign and Military Policy Commission. I freely admit that I consider it to be a huge honour, and will be spending some of my next holiday doing preparation work (that’s what flights are for, isn’t it?) to make sure that I’m ready to hit the ground running (albeit a bit jetlagged) on 21 June.

'Pizza and Politics' in leafy South London

Time to catch up on the events of the past week, I think. Here's a picture of the (glorious) leader of Southwark Council, Nick Stanton, speaking to Dulwich and West Norwood Liberal Democrats at our first 'Pizza & Politics' evening last Friday evening.

Nick was telling us just how many cultural icons either lived in, or worked in, our fair borough - albeit most of them at the northern end. As you can see, he is smiling, which should act as an encouragement to anyone else who fancies braving our occasionally tough crowd. Many thanks to Pat Mynott for her kindness in hosting the event which was, it was generally agreed, a great success.

How does the party actually work?

I am often fascinated by the lack of knowledge of the party's internal structures amongst otherwise very capable, very bright Liberal Democrat campaigners. I always assumed that my lack of knowledge was almost entirely caused by my lack of involvement but on being elected to the Regional Executive in November 2004, I made a point of reading the Regional Constitution (a thrill a minute, let me tell you...).

It did seem like an obvious thing to do, especially as I like to know how things work. I was subsequently surprised to find that I was in a very small minority amongst my new colleagues, to the point where I could state a relevant paragraph and be treated as some sort of oracle. As Regional Secretary, I do admittedly have responsibility for issues of bureaucracy, but it merely indicates to me that knowledge of how the Party actually interrelates is vouchsafed to comparatively few people.

Perhaps this explains the high level of frustration that, in particular, campaigners experience in trying to get things done. In turn, the fact that most organs of the Party effectively meet in secret, don't explain or justify their decisions or actions and don't initiate genuine debate helps to ensure that this remains the case. We also tend to create some fairly labyrinthine procedures in order to achieve often quite laudable goals. Unfortunately, when these clash with the needs of campaigners, unhappiness generally ensues, especially when said structures are staffed by already stretched volunteers.

I like to think that I have, in a small way, shone some light on some of the more obscure parts of the Party. It isn't an easy task, especially as you need to respect confidentiality, avoid the risk of inhibiting frank debate, and maintain a reputation for discretion. However, over the coming weeks, I aim to post some pieces which might help readers to understand how this political party actually works, and how you (and I, for that matter) might make best use of it. I would welcome suggestions from readers on what I should try to cover... because if I don't know the answer, I probably know someone who does...

The end of an era beckons...

Yes, the "for sale" is up in front of the house, and a photographer is coming on Thursday to take pictures and draw up a floor plan.

It is, in a way, rather sad, as I'd grown comfortable in this house but, for the next phase of my life, it is in the wrong place, has too many memories that I'd rather not dwell on, and has an apparent value that I would be foolish not to crystallise.

I suppose that I'd better start househunting...

European Parliament Selection Rules now available!

I know that some of you are keen to find out what you can and can't do over the coming months, and it gives me great pleasure to announce that, as promised, the Selection Rules have now been published at www.libdems4parliament.org.uk. You will need to register if you haven't already done so but, once you've gained access, you'll find the document in the download area...

If I had a $1,000,000...

... I'd buy you an exotic pet, like a llama, or an emu... or if I was Gordon Brown, I'd play with tax rates again.

In fairness to the man though, he has made a gesture towards long overdue simplification of the tax system and doubtless shot a lot of Conservative and Liberal Democrat foxes in the process (I'm not sure what the Lib Dem Tax Commission will have to say in private but might be able to essay a guess...).

Interestingly though, the headline impact of the income tax changes will be to see an increase in the tax liability of anyone earning between £5,225 and £18,605, although I'm assuming that there will be counterbalancing tax credits and the like to fill the gap. The changes in the ceilings for National Insurance Contributions would potentially allow a marriage with income tax at some point in the future and remove the bizarre anomaly where your marginal tax rate dropped at the point where National Insurance Contributions ceased to be charged - a nod towards properly progressive taxation, perhaps?

A lot of HM Revenue & Customs staff will be rubbing their hands with glee at the prospect of applying the new legislation of Managed Service Companies (in fact, we may need additional budget authority for glee, so enthusiastic are some...) and changes to the corporation tax rates offer a glimmer of a future with just one rate of corporation tax (any offers at 25%, anybody?), which would in turn remove most issues related to associated companies, marginal rate relief and other ornate, yet incomprehensible to the layperson, complications.

I'll want to see all of the numbers to be able to reach a conclusion as to how good a budget this is, but given the laziness of the average financial journalist when it comes to this sort of stuff (not good enough to be an accountant, not efficient enough to run a business and too ethically challenged to work in government...), they'll probably buy the 20% headline rate of income tax and declare it to be a success.

How to become a member of the European Parliament

Four years ago, at about this time of year, I was relaxing after the conclusion of the selection of our European Parliamentary List for South East England, when I was sucked into an argument about the absence of ethnic minority candidates from that Region's shortlist.

At the time, I was a mite defensive, perhaps because, as a member of the ethnic minority community myself (and that is a somewhat meaningless phrase in itself), I was slightly taken aback at the suggestion of racism amongst a selection committee I was responsible for supervising. I made what I thought was a valid point that the ethnic minority applicants were comparatively inexperienced and, in some instances, were still going through the process of approval as potential candidates whilst the selection was in progress. Against more experienced applicants, their answers to key questions on campaigning and strategy came across as thin, and thus made them less likely to fulfil the published selection criteria.

However, feedback is more than the art of diplomatic deconstruction, it should be about helping people to be more successful in the future and I suggested that any ethnic minority member desiring selection as a European Parliamentary candidate next time should start working their chosen Region now (i.e. in 2003), in anticipation of the next selection. Since then, I've gone from being an anonymous and rather inactive member of a small, unnoticed Local Party in a influential Region to being an Officer of that Regional Party. Yet, despite that, the number of people obviously organising even a skeleton campaign to raise their profile in London as a prelude to the selection can be counted on the fingers of one hand with sufficient left over to make a rude gesture.

I'm less than obviously ambitious, and have never had even a mild urge to be elected to anything in the 'real world', but I have come to increasingly suspect that the desire of some to achieve maximum reward with minimal effort is in part to blame for the lack of success that they moan about at such length and with such vitriol. And yet, the model is one that our Campaigns Department have been promoting with some success in our election campaigning for some years...

A Regional List selection is rather like a district council ward in somewhere like South Cambridgeshire. The electorate are quite spread out, and you need to make yourself known to them over a lengthy period in order to win them over. You clearly can't meet them all yourself, so you need a campaign team to spread across the ward, to spread the message about what a great campaigner you are, and what you will achieve for the residents if elected. You need to build networks in the villages, gain the trust of key community activists, and all of this whilst maintaining your 'day job' and juggling your other commitments.

It isn't easy, but then, if it was, everyone would do it, and they clearly don't. The reward though is a seat in the European Parliament for about as long as you want it, given our devotion to incumbents and the lack of information relating to their record once elected. The salary is quite nice, the travelling is interesting (if you have the freedom to really do it properly) and whilst the commuting can play havoc with the rest of your life (family, friends and the like), one presumes that you considered that before running in the first place - you did consider that, didn't you?

So, if you're interested, have you formed your campaign team yet? Do you have a unique selling point? Do you even know why you're doing it? If you can answer yes to all three questions, you've got a chance, unless of course, you've been auditioning for the role for years and everyone knows it, in which case you've beaten me to the punch (congratulations, I'm sure that you'll love Brussels...).

I'll be watching this year's selection with a more roving eye than usual, as my roles as Returning Officer for South East Region and Secretary of London Region will place me in the midst of the campaign in both Regions. I want to see, in both Regions, merit-based lists of candidates that reflect the diversity of the communities they serve. It's a two-way street though, in that if a level playing field is created, you have to turn up ready to compete... if you're really serious, that is...

California dreamin' on such a winter's day

One of the things that gets me through a typical week of bureaucracy is the prospect of escape, and especially when the weather outside is vaguely unpleasant, as today has been, that prospect looms ever larger. And so, what is a bureaucrat to do, but seek inspiration in song?

Most of my trips tend towards the complex, and I'm not very good at staying in one place for very long, so I often find myself poring over timetables and airline websites in an occasionally frustrating mission to go somewhere new. In the past, this has led to classic trips such as London to Quito via Washington, Buenos Aires and Bogota, or London to Nadi via Luxembourg, Mumbai, Ho Chi Minh City, Seoul, Kyoto, Rotorua and Auckland.

This time, my dilemma is related to what to do during a particular week in late April, and I've just spent a very cheerful if rather fruitless hour talking to United Airlines somewhere in the Midwest, and Air New Zealand in Auckland, attempting to discover how a plane can only have two business class seats when the seat map shows eight (answers on a postcard to...).

So far, I've got a seat from London to San Francisco, a hotel room there for three days, an onward flight to Melbourne via Sydney, and a seat back from Melbourne to London via Sydney and San Francisco. It's the bit in the middle that is the problem...

Time to go and sleep on it, I think...

Every day, in every way, life gets a little more complicated

My apologies for the silence from this corner of South London, but I've been rather busy, delivering leaflets in Knight's Hill, assessing potential London Assembly candidates, dealing with mergers (I've been here before, methinks...) and, tonight, attending the Annual Dinner of Borough of Brent Liberal Democrats, soon to be, I hope, my Local Party.

Yes, that does mean that the Valladares roadshow is to revert to a North London locale. I received an e-mail from my estate agent of choice on Monday, telling me that they had been appointed on a sole agency basis by Rachelle's solicitors (they very kindly told me later that day...). We have agreed upon a conveyancing solicitor, after it was pointed out to them that they were trying to breach the court order they themselves had drafted, and now all that is required is for me to allow an estate agent and photographer into my home to deal with floor plans and all of the stuff that goes into selling a house in these rather more complex times in which we live.

In turn, I will need to approach some estate agents in Kingsbury and Wembley, and start the process of finding a home for myself and my cats (it will almost certainly be more traumatic for them than for me, as this is the only home they've really known). Moving companies, more conveyancing solicitors, hassle, annoyance, regressive stamp duty, so much to look forward to... as if I had time for it all...

It was a lovely evening though, somewhat different in style to the Barnet event last week. Whereas Barnet's was at the rather glamorous National Liberal Club, waitress service and a speech from Nick Clegg, tonight was African dancing, a steel band, a self-service buffet and speeches from Sarah Teather and Vince Cable, a late stand-in for Paddy Ashdown, who was called to somewhere in the Middle East for a television show by all accounts, all of this in a building somewhere between Harlesden and Neasden.

Whilst I enjoyed the Barnet event, I was more comfortable in the slightly more anarchical Brent event, partly because there are so many familiar faces (I started my political activity in Brent in the mid-eighties), many of whom date back to the time when we managed to win our first ward (Barham) in 1982, and who worked tirelessly in what was often a fairly hopeless cause until comparatively recently. Last year, we went from nine councillors to twenty-seven, became the largest group and now lead a coalition with the Conservatives. It is certainly true that luck has played a part, especially in terms of the timing of the Brent East by-election, but as a famous golfer once said, "it's amazing, the harder I work, the luckier I get.". Work is something that Brent Liberal Democrats have never shied away from...

And now, nor can I. There will be much to do over the coming weeks, but at least the end of the nightmare is in sight and I can get on with the rest of my life, whatever that means...

Believe it or not, the European selection campaign is underway (or maybe it just seems like it)

One of my work colleagues is convinced that I'm always out doing something, and I'm beginning to think that he might have a point.

Tonight, I was at the National Liberal Club, acting as Rab Makki's stand-in (for those of you who don't know Rab, he is Nick Clegg's self-appointed stalker) at the Barnet Borough Liberal Democrats Dinner. Given that tonight was the vote of House of Lords reform, we weren't expecting Nick to make it until fairly late but, miraculously, he was there almost on time and dinner was hugely entertaining as a result.

I found myself at a table with Helen and William Wallace (Lord Wallace of Saltaire for those of you impressed by titles), and they were a delight to have the opportunity to talk to. William is one of those people who add lustre to our representation in the House of Lords and would probably be described as 'terribly clever' by Lord Bonkers, and is our House of Lords Spokesman on Foreign Affairs (I assume that there is quite a lot of competition for that job with Russell Johnston about).

Nick was, as usual, on top form, assailing both Labour for their appalling record of justice and civil liberties, and the Conservatives for their dreadful opportunism (just what is it that you're in favour of, Dave?).

However, from the perspective of a European Returning Officer (which leads me to be somewhat cynical), I was most interested by the presence of two potential European Parliamentary candidates for London, working the room. I won't name them, but note that my past advice (that you can never start campaigning too early) is at least being borne in mind by someone.

And, as a result, they might get a higher preference from me than they might have done otherwise...

Faceless bureaucrat in technicolour, thanks to Caroline Pidgeon!

Someone recently posted a comment regarding the collection of vividly coloured shirts that I allegedly possess, complaining that I didn't post any pictures of them or, equally importantly, me wearing them.

And so, courtesy of Caroline, here is a picture of me, taken on Friday afternoon, after I had been to the barber... it's a lovely shirt, enhanced by the two rather more attractive women on either side of me (Munira Hassam on the left, Caroline Pidgeon on the right). Close inspection will also reveal my rather spontaneous change of look...

I should also return the compliment by encouraging you to look at Caroline's new website which, I have to say, is one of the best examples that I've seen recently.

Adventures in Conferenceland...

I've not always been a big fan of Party Conferences. As a natural wallflower (it's all a disguise, I'm painfully shy and insecure, really), my networking skills were rather poor and I tended to hang out with my old friends and watch the other delegates wander to and fro, drinking, having casual sex and doing all of the other exciting things that presumably go on at these events but I never actually see myself.

I really must credit Rachelle with demonstrating how networking is done (she is terribly good at it) and am, as a result, somewhat better at it. It does help that, as Regional Secretary, Returning Officer and parliamentary candidate assessor, I appear in people's lives briefly, have some minor impact, smile sweetly and move on. As a result, conference has become the heady social whirl I always imagined that it should be.

Coming up to Harrogate on Thursday evening helped though. I was able to spend Friday relaxing and destressing, getting my hair cut, (and for those of you who haven't seen me since Thursday, you might be in for a bit of a surprise...) followed by an afternoon at the town's Turkish Baths. Friday evening was spent at leisure with colleagues over dinner, celebrating the birthday of Eliane, who works in our Candidates Office. Eliane is a treasure, a calm, still voice in the occasionally manic world of candidate selection and approval, who graciously tolerates my foibles and eccentricities and in return helps me when I need something.

I'm not able to give you a view on the Trident debate as, due to a clash with English Candidates Committee, I was otherwise engaged. Ironically, we were discussing issues which, in their own comparatively small way, will have a significant impact on the Party, in that we were debating the process of selecting our European Parliamentary lists. Hopefully, we'll improve the process, freeing up potential candidates to interact with, and engage the selectorate much more than in past selections. In doing so, technology will be our friend as much as possible. I know how frustrating it can be for those candidates who are comfortable in the brave new world of Facebook, YouTube, Skype and Second Life, when we tell them, "no, you can't do that", primarily because we, the 'regulators', struggle to comprehend how it all works, and it's easier to say no than to address the challenges and opportunities created.

I spent most of the rest of the day in the bar, predominantly not drinking (the diet is going pretty well, thank you for asking), and meeting old friends and new. Debates on policy don't really enthrall me, if truth be told, as I don't really know enough or, equally importantly, care enough to take part. And it is so frustrating not to be able to take part... What I find so reassuring is the number of bright, young, enthusiastic campaigners we have who want to win, and are willing to do the work to achieve that. Best of all, they are incredibly diverse, which is perhaps a sign that our candidate approval process does work, albeit imperfectly sometimes.

In about half an hour, Ming will be giving his big set piece speech to close Conference. Whilst there are many who remain unconvinced, it is generally accepted that his intervention in yesterday's debate, whilst high-risk, was critical in swinging the waverers behind the leadership line. At the very least, it has bought him a little time to consolidate his position further. And yet, he will be under pressure today, as the eyes of the Party lock their gaze upon him. What will he say to stir the blood before the Local Elections in May? Will he generate a buzz to inspire candidates in tough contests? Will he carve out a philosophical niche that is liberal?

We'll just have to see, won't we...

All that's missing is the cigar...

It's taken me more than two years, but I finally think that I've solved the problem of potentially tough committee meetings.

Tonight saw the first meeting of the Regional Candidates Committee, with a long, technical agenda and a great deal to plan, organise and decide upon. We had been unable to hold the meeting in Cowley Street due to the unavailability of a room and, to be honest, I never enjoy meeting there anyway. It's always a struggle to get in 'after hours' as you need to persuade someone to let you in, and the hanging around waiting for someone is frustrating.

So it dawned on me, why not host the Committee in the National Liberal Club? It's quiet, discreet and comfortable (the leather armchairs are a real plus), the bar is very reasonably priced (at least for Central London) and extremely central (next to Embankment station) and where could be more appropriate?

And so, at 7.15 this evening, I arrived in Whitehall Place, signed in the committee (we are a gentleman's club, after all - and yes, we do admit women as members...) and headed for the bar. Arranging for provision of a couple of bottles of wine (a key relaxant at the end of a tough day), our new Chair, Margaret Joachim, brought us to order and pushed through the agenda very efficiently.

Naturally, I can't detail our discussions, nor the decisions taken, but I was impressed with the collegiate style of a group who give an impression of focussed competence. Me, I'll stick to gentle humour, a grasp of the possible and a network of contacts which allow me to peer slightly myopically into the future. But they seem willing to tolerate that...

After the business was complete, we stayed on to do what some might describe as bonding but I would suggest was part of the pleasure of getting to know your colleagues better whilst not actually discussing business. The committee is heavily female-accented this year - it was only our gender balance rules that prevented me from being the only male out of the seven members - and an ability to be able to relate to something other than politics is quite welcome.

I sense that I'm going to enjoy this...

A watcher lurks in Maidstone...

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...

I'm a bureaucrat, get me out of here!

Today I found myself wearing a badge. So far, not particularly unusual, as I go to quite a few conferences in the course of a year. However, this occasion was different in that my badge had the word 'trainer' printed on it. I like to think of myself as being quite versatile, but training is not one of my obvious talents.

So why today? English Candidates Committee launched its new training session for new policy assessors, a role which has been very much a minority pastime recently. The problem we have is that many of the people with the skills required to test others on policy knowledge, are the same people who want to be candidates themselves, thus ruling them out of consideration. Accordingly, our policy assessors tend to be more mature and have other commitments, so are not always available.

So, under the baton of our Chair, Dawn Davidson and Christian Moon, head of the Party's Policy Unit, and with the support of Rob Blackie and myself, we trained nine potential policy assessors in the art of testing individuals with varied levels of policy knowledge. It was a particularly fascinating experience for me, as I've never actually seen a policy interview carried out, nor had I seen the policy multiple choice test that forms part of the process, as I'm always occupied with other elements of a development day whilst they are run.

What surprised me, as someone who has never thought of himself as terribly hot on policy (I'm seldom in the hall for conference debates as I'm engaged in bureaucrat-type stuff), was how much I actually knew. The potential assessors were put to the test, and Dawn and I were 'encouraged' to join in. Imagine my surprise at scoring a maximum twenty out of twenty... although I did drop two out of ten marks when sitting the European test that followed.

I even think that I wouldn't disgrace myself in the more free form interview that normally follows, although I somehow doubt my viability as an actual prospective Parliamentary candidate.

The day itself was, I think, a success, and I look forward to meeting our new policy assessors at development days in the future...

Responsibility in the face of temptation

I've got something that a lot of people would quite like to see, i.e. the now fleshed out timetable for the European selections. I'd like to share it with you, gentle reader, but I can't... yet.

Hopefully, agreement to publish the information will be obtained and you'll all know. There's nothing like an informed democracy, after all...

An open letter to Cllr Kim Humphreys...

Dear Kim (and friends),

I've been asked to edit my blog to remove some quirky references to a Southwark resident (who shall remain nameless, obviously). Whilst under normal circumstances, I would almost certainly wait until you had the courtesy to approach me directly, rather than bitch to one of my colleagues in a rather lame attempt to obtain some leverage, I have decided to make a few revisions. Do check for yourselves... although by checking the postings yourselves, you are pushing them back up the 'popularity' rankings... On the other hand, you might also want to 'google' the individual in question.

I now assume that you'll give this a rest... although that would be inconsistent with your past behaviour...

Oh yes, one other thing. I've saved the original postings somewhere retrievable. Don't try my patience...

My name's Friday, I carry a badge

At home in front of my computer, following an evening at our Regional Conference, back in lovely, Liberal Democrat-led Camden.

I used to hate Conferences, Regional or otherwise, due to the basic fact that I couldn't network to save my life. And now, having been around an awfully long time (or at least it seems like it), most people know me so that I don't have to (go figure!). People come up to me to talk, exchange gossip - the lifeblood of political parties - or have an agenda to promote. I love it, as I am hooked on intrigue. I retain a heightened sense of discretion, because being Regional Secretary is somewhat akin to being a telephonist in a small English village circa 1928. It's all about putting people in touch with each other, and knowing enough to be able to make those connections work.

And, despite those inevitable moments when a surfeit of emotion, combined with a set of principles better suited to Victorian times (I would have taken duelling seriously and died of pistol-inflicted wounds in my early twenties) and a twist of Latin blood, leads me towards the big, romantically suicidal gesture, I tend to like people (although cats have certain redeeming features that many people don't).

The biggest advantage that I have is not actually wanting to be elected to anything, which makes me 'not competition' - a thoroughly good thing in the eyes of some. So, without an agenda other than that of good administration (don't all rush to hold the banner aloft), I can lend a hand where it might be helpful.

This evening was, as a result, quite a lot of fun. I even got to step out from behind the mask and chair a session or three. I wasn't bad, although I'm not expecting a call from Federal Conference Committee any time soon. It does have to be said that London runs a mean Regional Conference under the leadership of Alison Sanderson, our Regional Conference Chair, supported by our Regional Administrator, the legendary Flick Rea. Three Members of Parliament, an MEP, Lords, London Assembly Members, a veritable cast of thousands, and even Southwark's very own Caroline Pidgeon, speaking about youth issues.

And afterwards, in the pub across the street, I made my peace with our Regional Chair. I have to give Sean credit, he does know how to handle dissent... I even know what I should give him as a gift...