You know something, I'm not going to go gently into that dark night...

I have, I must confess, been confronted with signs of my mortality of late. No, I'm not dying, I'm not even ill. it's just that, in recent months, the notion that I am still young has taken a bit of a kicking. I've known that I'm in my mid-forties, but there has been a piece of me that, emotionally at least, has striven to deny the fact that I am, to put it kindly, getting on as bit.

I've been dwelling on my long-term finances, on my health, on the future. Ah yes, the future. I've never been very good at that, apart from planning trips (and I'm really good at that...). And now, whilst I don't have to be really good at it, it does make me realise that, eventually, one day, I might die. So, perhaps I ought to be a little more relaxed about duty, and slightly keener on fun, worry less about things that might go wrong, and wonder  more about what might just happen.


I wonder what will happen...

Lobbying Reform: sorry Eirian, but sorry doesn't cut it...

Today, it emerges that Eirian Walsh Atkins has resigned. For those of you who don't know her, until Friday, she was the head of constitutional policy at the Cabinet Office. Why was she important? Perhaps because she has been preparing the government's consultation proposal on a statutory register for lobbyists... a key part of the political reform package promoted by Liberal Democrats.

Interestingly, she resigned because of a message on her Twitter feed, wishing "that Unlock Democracy would die". Now you might think that such an attitude is, to put it mildly, unhelpful. You might also wonder if her attitude had led to potential bias in terms of her handling of the issue. I know that I do.

And, there is a suggestion that she has displayed such bias. We do know that she has refused to meet with the Director of Unlock Democracy, Peter Facey, to discuss the proposals. We also know that she has refused to meet with Spinwatch, an independent non-profit making organisation which monitors the role of public relations and spin in contemporary society. On the other hand, she is understood to have met with representatives of the UK Public Affairs Council four times since September 2010. Equitable treatment? I don't think so.

She also led the Cabinet Office's rejection of a freedom of information request to disclose details of its contacts with the lobbying industry since 2010. On the basis of what we do know, it might appear that she was covering up her own behaviour.

But before I continue, time for a declaration of interest. I am a member of the Council and Management Board of Unlock Democracy, and a civil servant, so I have multiple perspectives on her behaviour.

The Government has talked big about cleaning up British politics, and whilst I wonder if everyone is entirely committed to doing anything more than talking about it, the commitment to cleaning up the lobbying industry is a key step towards improving the transparency and integrity of our body politic.

And part of that body politic is the Civil Service, a body supposed to be beyond reproach in its dealings with the public and with those that govern us. As a reminder for Eirian, here are our core values, as placed on a statutory footing by the Constitutional Reform and Governance Act 2010;

• Integrity – putting the obligations of public service above personal interests
• Honesty – being truthful and open 
• Objectivity – basing advice and decisions on rigorous analysis of the evidence
• Impartiality – acting solely according to the merits of the case and serving governments of different political parties equally well

So, let's see how Eirian got on...

Integrity

That would be a fail. She had a duty to serve the public interest, and publicly declared her view towards a leading campaigner on the question under discussion. She has given a clear impression of favouring one side of the debate over the other.

Honesty

In one sense, she has passed. After all, her view of Unlock Democracy is refreshingly direct, even if unwise. On the other hand, if her refusal of a seemingly legitimate Freedom of Information request was intended to prevent scrutiny of her conduct, she has failed.

Objectivity

Article 11 of the Code states;

11. You must not:

• ignore inconvenient facts or relevant considerations when providing advice or making decisions

Is it possible to imagine that she could now be, or has ever been, objective? Can you credibly suggest that she has taken into account all of the facts? I really can't see that one standing up.

Impartiality

Oh dear, another fail. The merits of the case? She clearly doesn't believe in taking them seriously, and has evidently failed to serve this government well. Of course, she could have been equally useless under the previous Labour administration, but given her rank, it seems somewhat unlikely.

Article 13 of the Code reads;

13. You must not:

• act in a way that unjustifiably favours or discriminates against particular individuals or interests

So, not a good score, methinks. I'm pleased that she has resigned as head of constitutional policy, but might I suggest that this civil service thing isn't really her forte? After all, if you were a Cabinet Office minister, could you really trust her work? I couldn't.

Time to go and get a job as a lobbyist, Eirian. Don't worry, I'm sure that they'll look after you...

I can count, I can...

I am, somewhat unexpectedly, being educated again. Well, I say educated, in that I am part of an HM Revenue & Customs pilot study, testing the value of the NVQ Level 2 in Operational Delivery.

I've met my assessor, Barry, and done the mandatory literacy and numeracy tests. And that's my first concern. The picture shows one of the sixteen numeracy test questions, indeed, one of the more difficult ones.

Remember, I'm a tax official, working in an organisation that requires academic evidence of numeracy as part of our recruitment process. I have an 'O' level, two 'A' levels and a degree in Mathematics. I do find myself wondering why I am obliged to take a test that I would have been upset at failing when I was five. It appears to be 'education by box ticking', something that I don't really approve of.

And, to be blunt, it doesn't appear to be particularly rigorous. Keep the answers short, I am told, avoid detail. There I was, thinking that this might offer an opportunity to give some serious thought as to the way we function, and whether or not we provide a service that meets the actual needs of our customers, rather than one that fits with what we're willing to provide. Clearly, I am being naïve.

Once upon a time, we had proper, rigorous training, where you were taught not only what to do, but why you are doing it. But that's expensive, so instead consultants are brought in to break down our work into simple bite-sized chunks that a slightly slow gibbon could master.

That's fine, so long as you have a basic knowledge of the job. However, if you don't, as soon as something unusual crops up, you're floundering at the end of a long rope, with managers appointed on the basis of managerial competence, rather than any knowledge of your job.

And that, my friends, is why bureaucrats become jobsworths. If in doubt, stick to the letter of the law...

Eric Pickles redefines 'moral duty'

Not only has Eric Pickles failed to extend his largesse to Parish Councils, but he now accuses me of failing in my moral duty by increasing the Parish precept by 13%.

I would love to freeze our share of the council tax this year. But I can't - the numbers simply don't add up.

Like councillors around the country, I have a legal obligation to secure the finances of my authority. Each year, we fret about balancing the books, about long-term sustainability, about maintaining essential services, about protecting our staff and treating them with respect. Even in good years, difficult choices are made, but in hard ones...

Some of my colleagues on principal authorities have concluded that, rather than take the 'bribe' equivalent to a 2.5% increase on the previous year's budget, they will increase council tax. Their logic is that, one day, the bribes will stop and, when they do, the gap between income and expenditure will need to be bridged by a large increase in the precept. A little basic arithmetic tends to support their contention.

Others argue that it is better to protect council taxpayers this year, accepting the likelihood of a big increase for 2013/14. And if you're up for election in 2012, one can see the political attraction. Or, if you hope that the economy will improve so that the increase will seem less painful, it is entirely logical.

But, whatever decision they've taken, it has been one which has not been taken lightly. And given that Eric's largesse has no impact on the deficit, and that it is being paid for by taxpayers, I thoroughly object to him bandying around the phrase 'moral duty'. It is my moral duty to do the best for my community - all of my community. That may mean cutting costs, it may mean increasing council tax levels.

And by the way, Eric, you've just passed a Localism Bill, giving me a power of general competence. The idea was that local councils were to be trusted to get on with things without vast layers of central bureaucracy or diktat. For pity's sake man, read the memo. Or, if it's all too complex, it's your moral duty to get someone to explain it to you. I'd ask Andrew Stunell, if I were you...

For the benefit of Iain Duncan-Smith: a definition of homelessness

This morning, on BBC's Breakfast Show, Iain Duncan-Smith was talking about the impact of his proposals on a benefit cap. He suggested that the 'scare stories' were exaggerated, claiming that the Shelter definition of homelessness was unrealistic.

When pressed, he stated that their definition of homelessness includes circumstances where bedrooms are being shared. At this point, Ros noted that he was being less than entirely accurate.

So, I thought that I ought to check. Given that Ros has plenty of knowledge on housing issues, and has held senior office at District and County level, I'd tend to trust her judgement. And here, for the benefit of the Secretary of State, is Shelter's actual definition;

"Homelessness means not having a home - most people who are homeless don't sleep on the street. Even if you have a roof over your head you can still be homeless. This is because you may not have any rights to stay where you live or your home might be unsuitable for you due to severe overcrowding or other reasons."

If I was being extremely generous, I would accept that he may have misinterpreted this. But I'm not. To my mind, most people would see severe overcrowding as being rather more than simply sharing a bedroom.

So, either he is wilfully misrepresenting the facts, or he is ignorant of them. And on that basis, he is unworthy of any faith that Parliamentarians might wish to place in his judgement. And that rather casts doubt on the quality of the legislation he is promoting...

A benefit cap: victimising people at taxpayers' expense?

I freely admit that I haven't given an awful lot of attention to the Welfare Reform debate. Odd really, because Ros cast her first ever vote as a rebel against the proposal to punish those in receipt of housing benefit who have a spare bedroom. But nonetheless, it isn't an area of policy that I'm terribly knowledgeable about.

But I do like to think that a proposal should add up. And the benefit cap doesn't seem to do so. As I understand it, the proposal will lead to a direct saving of £270 million from the social welfare budget. So far, so good. But are there consequential effects?

Some of the people impacted, indeed, a lot of them, will be living in private rented accommodation. If housing benefit is reduced, they will probably lose their home unless rents drop in their area across the piece. That seems, to put it politely, somewhat unlikely, given that landlords will not want to reduce their income, and that overheads are likely to increase as interest rates revert to more sustainable long-term levels. If they lose their homes, they aren't intentionally homeless, and their local authority is obliged to house them, which comes with a cost to the local authority. If they have available housing, that cost can be held down but, if temporary rented accommodation is required, that can be quite expensive.

If the senior official in the Department for Communities and Local Government who wrote that the resultant costs would exceed the benefits of the cap is correct, the Government will have achieved something superficially popular and fiscally inept simultaneously. Quite some achievement, might I suggest?

Tim Leunig offers what seems like an entirely sensible alternative, suggesting that you could make equivalent savings by increasing the housing stock by 1.3%. You would create jobs, impose some downward pressure on housing costs across the board, and create an asset which will generate a return, all of which are obviously good.

I'm uncomfortable about the idea of punishing people on the basis of an arbitrarily chosen number. Yes, it is right that we should give people an incentive to seek work, but it can't just be about sticks - carrots need to play a part too. And whilst Liberal Democrats approach it by taking people out of income tax at the bottom end of the income scale, Conservatives appear to prefer making them so impoverished that any job, no matter how poorly paid, and no matter whether or not it allows them to live with dignity.

And so, in the unlikely event that Iain Duncan Smith happens to see these words, I'd be grateful if he put fiscal responsibility ahead of a rather perverse insistence on self-reliance...

Even a bribe from Eric Pickles wouldn't help me this time...

Last year, I was rather pleased that I had managed to freeze the Parish Council precept by cutting a swathe of utterly superfluous proposed expenditure from the draft budget. Indeed, I probably felt a bit smug about it at the time.

But something was bothering me. Our Parish Clerk produces an exquisitely detailed budget document each year, which we, the Parish councillors, look at and, apart from my enthusiasm to cut out things that I deem unnecessary, accept. I had therefore assumed that the income and expenditure balanced, as it all added up.

And, indeed, it does. However, it gradually dawned on me that I didn't have a grasp of the whole picture, a failure which annoyed me somewhat, as I take a degree of pride in my basic numeracy. So, this year, I produced my very own income and expenditure account, based on the budget figures, stripping out the earmarked funds for elections and the funds inherited from the Community Council intended to finance the playing field.

As a result, my vague unease was crystallised into a rather ugly realisation, that we were actually spending more than we were bringing in. To be honest, I should have spotted it earlier, but you know how it is, everything seemed alright, and I didn't want to be too aggressive as a reasonably new councillor.

Luckily, I'm not alone. Our Parish Clerk has seen the same iceberg, and has proposed some changes that will help address the problem. I've added my own thoughts, and we've filled much of the gap. Unfortunately, inflation and a transfer of waste management costs from the District Council make the numbers more difficult.

Which leaves one last option - increasing the precept. Not a palatable one, but really the only viable one we have. And so, taking a deep breath, I've joined my colleagues in agreeing a 13% increase in the precept for 2012/13, about £5 for a band D household.

It doesn't sound like much, 10p a week, but it's my friends and neighbours who will be paying it, so none of us have done it lightly. Hopefully, though, it will allow us to stabilise our finances in future years.

I do wonder how these people do it...

It is said that getting involved in Liberal Democrat Voice is a certain route to blogging damnation. With the 'curse of the BOTYs', whereby all winners have almost entirely stopped blogging thereafter, and the workload involved in being an editor, you can kind of see why that might be so.

And, alas, I seem to be sliding into the same trap. Blogging here has been a bit light of late, partly caused by my being on holiday, partly because my other responsibilities are keeping me from the blog.

Ironically, most of what I write for Lib Dem Voice is not what I have included on my own blog and, in truth, I haven't written that much for the site. It is a bit of a distraction though, and I really need to start managing my time a little better, so that I can keep up.

So, we'll see what can be done here, but in the meantime, it's my day today on Liberal Democrat Voice so, if you have any comments on how it's going, feel free to add them here...
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Don't you just hate it when an accountant spams you?

There are few things that genuinely annoy me - I'm a fairly placid soul at heart. But one thing that really does irritate me is commercial spam comments on my blog.

Last week, I blogged about an Indian chartered accountant turned standup comedian. So far, so commonplace. However, in my inbox is notification of a comment, reading as follows;

"For your peace of mind, Gordons Knight www.gkcadvice.co.uk offer a 100% Guarantee on our chartered accountant london services in the UK."

Now, I don't know the firm myself. However, their action in spamming my blog gives an impression that they are a bunch of opportunists, rather keener to attract clients than to worry about ethics. That might seem unfair, but it annoys me. They clearly don't know me too well either, as the chances of an HMRC official needing an accountant are, I would suggest, fairly small.

So, to those 'nice' people at Gordons Knight, might I offer a piece of advice? Spamming people is annoying, regardless of how well meaning you might be. Indeed, it gives the impression that you might not be that well meaning, something that I look unkindly upon.

Luckily, they're in South London, so I'm less likely to encounter them, but if you're looking for an accountancy firm in South London, don't ask me for a testimonial...
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No more unlikely than a chartered accountant doing standup...

One of the things about visiting family is that I am simultaneously inside, and outside, of my comfort zone. Inside, because I am with my family, and outside, because I tend to find myself doing things that I might not otherwise do. My second cousins, Dylan and Arlene, are somewhat younger than I am, and are incredibly social. So, when cousins are in town, they are keen to do things. And, for some reason, if there's karaoke involved, all the better.

We had been part of a shopping exhibition to Phoenix Mills, a rather chi-chi mall in Lower Parel, and the existence of comedy was noted. As, to my knowledge, stand-up comedy is not a traditional Indian artform, and having noted that one of the comedians was a local ex-chartered accountant, when the idea of a night out was mooted, we thought, why not?

So, on Thursday evening, we set off from our hotel, an edifice so vast that you can presumably see it from space, and so over the top that Graham Norton would claim it to be tasteless - just what purpose does the young lady wishing us a good morning actually serve? - in an air-conditioned taxi to the mall, where we were joined by Dylan and Arlene.

And yes, it's that 'Comedy Store', transplanted to South Mumbai for the benefit of a young, almost painfully hip audience. With a Geordie compere, who rapidly alighted upon a young man isolated on the front row, and kept coming back to him with some quite concerted advice on how to make friends, and made a series of suggestive comments about the sexuality of the guys further down the row.

I was intrigued, because homosexual acts are still punishable by imprisonment here, and somewhat surprised by the reception he was getting - uproarious laughter.

He was, it must be said, very funny in a 'thank God he hasn't seen me' sort of a way, and he had evidently made a real effort to research a bit of Mumbai culture first, with gags about biscuit adverts and Amitabh Bachchan (the Big B, as he is known).

Now I know that Will Howells has taken up stand-up and, whilst I haven't seen his act yet (so, when are you playing the Regal, Stowmarket, Will?), I sense that Karun Rao has given me a hint of what I might expect, as he delivered a set of jokes about being a chartered accountant and about how difficult it is to get laid when you are one. Geek humour at its very best.

Our last act was a black comedian from Greenford, near Southall, called Nathan Caton. As a West Indian kid at a mostly Indian school, he'd learned a pretty impressive number of Hindi swear words, which he tested on a fairly receptive audience. I have to say that I was least impressed by him, as he seemed to think that doing a bunch of gags about his mother would be enough.

The beer flowed, and the sushi was good too, and all in all, it was a really pleasant evening. But somehow, I can't see me getting into the Comedy Store in London for less than a fiver...

Hello from 2012! You guys, you're so last year...

So, Ros and I have seen in the New Year, to the sound of bhangra (you have no idea...). I have my flashing light stick as a souvenir, and Ros has an excitingly blue feather boa.

But, of course, I'm out of synch for five and a half hours because whilst here it is 2012, I'm still Regional Secretary until 5.30 a.m. local time. At least I'll be asleep when the transition actually happens.

So, let me wish you all a Happy New Year. May 2012 bring you all that you could reasonably hope for, and be a year less painful than 2011 was.

Time to wave the flashing light stick, methinks...
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Arise Sir Bob, the Voice of Colchester

Long term readers of this blog will know that I am a bit of a fan of Bob Russell, our nearest Liberal Democrat MP.

And the talk here in Mumbai is of nothing else but the exciting news that, at some point in the New Year, the Queen will say, "Arise, Sir Robert" and we'll have another Liberal Democrat knight.

Bob is not 'fashionable' but he is a bloody good tribune for the people of Colchester, a patriot and a great campaigner over forty years for local residents. And for all of that, and the fact that he's a nice guy too, I couldn't think of anyone more deserving in our Parliamentary Party.

And for next time, Your Majesty, might I commend Sir Alastair Carmichael, for services to politics and Facebook?... Make him come in his Viking outfit too, he's got an enormous axe...
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2011 in review: a tale of what wasn't to be... and where we were going to be...

Released from the role of First Husband, things were going to be a bit quieter, yes? Well, no, not really. Freed from her Presidential responsibilities, Ros ran through the gears as my campaign manager, as I sought to win Stowupland ward from the evil Tories.

We'd been leafleting with increasing enthusiasm, and it was soon time to put a bureaucrat on the doorstep. And much to my surprise, I began to rather enjoy myself, uncovering a latent liberal vote dating back to the post-war years. The locals were (mostly) friendly, and I began to suspect that I might have an outside chance.

Sadly, the combination of increased turnout stemming from the AV referendum - they tended not to vote Lib Dem - and a Green candidate who attracted 15% of the vote without actually campaigning was enough to deny me by 91 votes. As Ros said, if I could achieve a 12% swing under such circumstances, I could have reasonably expected to have won in any other year.

There was no time for disappointment though, as Europe awaited. Ros and I had been elected on to the Council of the European Liberal Democrats (ELDR), and our first outing was to Dresden. I freely admit that it didn't sound tremendously enticing but we discovered that Saxony was a pretty corner of Germany, and with pork and beer as key staples, the cuisine suited us too. So much so indeed, that we went back.

Ah yes, travel. I got to the Caribbean for the first time, to Jamaica. I wasn't entirely convinced, as it seems fundamentally wrong that most of the profit goes offshore, leaving the locals to do the lifting and carrying for little pay. Perhaps I need to go somewhere else...

We had liked Dresden so much that we went back for a holiday, combining it with Prague as a two-centre trip. The sun shone, the food (and the beer) were marvellous, and we discovered a whole new part of the world to intrigue Ros.

For we had discovered a degree of freedom. When Ros and I first met, the campaign for the Presidency was warming up, and with a year and a half of campaigning, followed by two years of the Presidency and another four months of a District Council campaign, we hadn't actually had a lot of 'us time'. And we were enjoying it too.

Our last trip was to Palermo for more ELDR business. It can seem a bit cliquey from the outside, as a lot of our delegates attend the annual Congress year after year. Undoubtedly, the cost is a factor, but the fact that it is a little known facet of the Party's activity doesn't help. I rather enjoy it all, as the way of doing politics is gentler, more collegiate. And despite having fought a campaign as the candidate and not just a supporter, I still don't like retail politics.

Life as a parish councillor has continued to take up more of my time. As the parish council's 'envoy to everywhere else' I discovered a thicket of committees, councils and other bodies sufficient to fascinate a bureaucrat. And it is all genuinely fascinating for a transplanted boy from the city.

And with that, I must away, as it's New Year in just over five hours. You see, we're in India, visiting family, catching some sunshine and doing some shopping. It's warm, the rupee is on its knees, and my family are their usual, gloriously bonkers, self. It's good to be home...
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A new way of keeping busy... but how can I match the glamour that is Stephen Tall?

Having wound down my political activity in recent months, I do need something to keep me busy. And, on the apparent basis that the Devil makes work for idle hands, today I'm making my debut as one of the volunteer editors of Liberal Democrat Voice.

In fact, today I'm sharing duties with Paul Walter who, along with Mary Reid, will be handling Tuesdays on an alternating basis, under the close supervision of Mark Pack. In fairness, Paul has done most of the work today, and is clearly keen - this augurs well for the future.

Once we're considered ready, the three of us will be alternating in a three-week cycle, giving each of us time to commission pieces, or write them ourselves if need be - and I quite fancy making the odd contribution myself.

As Stephen Tall noted this morning, we aren't the first, with Caron Lindsay, Prateek Buch and Nick Thornsby already up and running - they're handling a day each, rather than alternating on the same day. Rather them than me, I must say...

So, what can you expect from me? Something ermine, something blue, something grey and something rural, I'd guess, reflecting my background and the circles I move in.

I hope that you like it, I've some tough acts to follow...
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No hard feelings, I trust, Lord North?

Our recent trip to Stratford was made even more interesting by our accommodation for the night, Wroxton Abbey, just outside Banbury.

The Abbey, with its eighteenth century garden, is one of the perhaps less well known stately homes but its history is an interesting one. Originally built in the Jacobean era, on the site of a monastery torn down on the instructions of Henry VIII, the house became to home of the Norths, one of whom went on to become Prime Minister.

Lord North, for it was he, is probably most famous for, let us put it tactfully, misplacing the American colonies, but his family appear to have been quite forgiving about it, as one of the family guests was none other than Theodore 'Teddy' Roosevelt, who came to Wroxton to shoot. He slept in what is now known as the Presidential Suite, our billet for the night, and almost certainly the biggest room I've ever slept in.

And, irony of ironies, when the house became a burden too great for any descendent to bear, it was sold... to an American university, Fairleigh Dickinson which, nearly fifty years later, maintains the estate as a study abroad program base, with students from across the country coming to take advantage of the facilities and setting.

I'm sure that Lord North would have seen the funny side of it though...

The blunders of the human spine

"Good grief," you're thinking, "what's he on about this time?. Is this an obscure attempt at humour by using metaphor?".

Actually, it is pain-induced. Yesterday, whilst bringing in logs for the wood burning stove, I attempted to reach outwards and downwards for a last log and discovered the outer limit of what my back is actually capable of. It isn't that, it appears. Twenty-four hours later, after much resort to painkillers, and some rather gingerly negotiation of various parts of the house, I am capable of moving around, albeit stiffly and cautiously, although it isn't pretty.

As I have noted in the past, I have not really looked after my spine, slouching in chairs, reaching awkwardly for things rather than doing so in the approved health and safety conscious manner, and carrying more weight than is good for me, albeit less than I was carrying a year ago.

It is a dual reminder, first that I am, despite an emotional denial of the fact, getting older, and second that I really rather ought to look after myself better. A bit more weight lost would ease the pressure on my lower vertebrae, and a bit more exercise would strengthen the muscles that support it.

The problem is that, as I get older, being sedentary becomes more and more appealing. I enjoy my food and drink, and life is generally pretty good.

Oh well, life can't only be wine and roses...

Cameron offers up his Parliamentary Party as a hostage to the Media

Those of us who have, I put it politely, been about for a while, will remember the carnage that followed John Major's 'Back to Basics' campaign in the mid-nineties, as a series of hitherto anonymous Conservative MPs were outed for their less than entirely conventional view of human sexuality.

It demonstrated, beyond any doubt, that politicians are human, like everyone else. Unfortunately, with the media sub-contracted to act as moral arbiters, it was never going to end well, with effects that still impact on our politics today.

I find myself in what seems like a counter-intuitive position. Because, whilst our Conservative dancing partners normally claim to have a jump on issues of personal responsibility and freedom, this is one area where Liberal Democrats seem more comfortable with both. And whilst Liberal Democrats are not immune to personal frailty, the fact that the Party has a generally less prurient view of personal relationships and sexuality means that charges of hypocrisy in this area have been relatively few in number.

And the problem with hypocrisy in human relationships is that you become horribly exposed to a media who will never miss an opportunity to pull down an errant politician or, at least, a politician whose personal life does not meet with their moral approval.

So, David Cameron's talk of 'Christian values' will, I suspect have provoked a few groans at the breakfast tables of Conservative politicians this week, and a little rummaging in the files of our national newspapers. I'm not going to say that I look forward to the results, but I have a nasty feeling in my bones...

Measure for (somewhat sado-masochistic) Measure

It's been a day of surprises here on Planet Bureaucrat, none of which, I am delighted to say are work, or even politics, related.

Ros and I are at Wroxton College, the United Kingdom campus for Fairleigh Dickinson University, a New Jersey based institution, hosted by their Director here, Nicholas Baldwin. Our visit here was founded on an opportunity to see Shakespeare performed live, and our show 'Measure for Measure'.

I admit that, having studied Shakespeare at school, it only ever seemed to live when exclaimed, so I can't claim to be a huge fan. And when the performance began with a number of the cast in bondage outfits being whipped by others, I was not necessarily convinced that the evening was going to go well.

However, once the bondage gear had receded from the consciousness, the power of the plot, the quality of the acting and the Globe-like setting of the Swan Theatre in Stratford-upon-Avon began to work their magic. Read in isolation, Shakespeare's plays require a suspension of credibility and a sense of creativity, yet performed you forget this and are drawn like a magnet to the morality of the piece.

And so it was this evening. I found myself curious to know what would happen - an advantage of not knowing the play, I guess - and enjoying the humour with which events unfolded.

It would naturally be wrong of me to reveal the plot, even though it is so well known. But, if you're in Stratford, and it's still on, I can but commend it to you. And, in any event, the Swan is a wonderful performance space...

Is it REALLY necessary to be that aggressive?

Perhaps I'm getting old, or perhaps I'm just becoming a better politician, but one of the things that bothers me is the tendency of some people, predominantly men, to do politics as though it is a contact sport, all aggression and playing the man if the ball isn't convenient.

I've had an example today. A colleague, who shall remain nameless, but knows who he is, wrote an e-mail complaining about the behaviour of a third party. That complaint was made to an e-mail list including the person being complained against, in front of all of the people she will be working with in the coming months.

I responded almost immediately, explaining why I thought that such an approach was inappropriate, but it dawned on me that, perhaps, this is the sort of behaviour that discourages people from getting involved in organisations. And I admit that I find it a little depressing, especially as someone who believes that an organisation is at its most effective when everyone who can contribute is given the space to do so.

So, if you find yourself frustrated at a meeting, take a deep breath, count to ten, and ask yourself, "Is losing my temper going to help?". And then, why not calmly, and discreetly, approach the root of your problem, and find out why they are behaving in the way that they are. You may learn something. Of course, it may still mean that you have to kill them, but at least you've tried...

Another day, another lesson in Indian bureaucracy

Another day in London, dealing with my Indian visa application, having lunch with the woman I love, meeting my brother for a drink and doing 'Unlock Democracy' stuff.

Traditionally, obtaining an Indian visa has been fairly straightforward, if time consuming. You downloaded the form, or picked one up if you were lucky enough to live near a consular facility, filled it in, attached two photographs and went to the High Commission at India House. There, you were given a number which entitled you to wait in a scene from bedlam with hundreds of others, hoping that you didn't miss your number and, eventually, handing over the form, some cash (no cheques or credit cards accepted) and your photographs. You would then wait for your number to be called again, at which point your passport, containing a one page visa, could be collected before you made your escape. An early start was essential, before the queues built up too far but, if all went well, you could be out in three, maybe four hours.

Now, the task of processing applications has been contracted out, to a company called VFS Global. What this means is that you can complete your application online, and book an appointment to visit at a pre-arranged time. Or so I thought...

I had gone on line and filled out the very long, sometimes seemingly irrelevant, form, pressed submit, and then... not very much actually. You are asked to print out the form, and then led towards an appointment, where you pick a time and a location, subject to availability. There are three locations in London - one in Victoria, one on Goswell Road, on the fringes of the City of London, and the last in Southall.

So, I arrived in Victoria in good time for my noon appointment, forewarned by Ros, who had gone through the whole experience three hours earlier that I needed photographs that were two inches square rather than standard passport photograph size, ready with the right change for the handily located photo booth. The pictures taken, I joined the throng waiting for service.

There were three sets of numbers being called, one for those with appointments, one for those without, and one for those with specific requirements. Given that I had an appointment, I assumed that I would have priority. Well, not really, but I was only there for about an hour before the ten people with appointments ahead of me were dealt with.

When do I get my passport back with its new shiny visa? Don't know, but they'll e-mail me to let me know that it's available for collection. Progress...

Lunch with Ros followed. Our lifestyle keeps us apart more often than I would like, but given Ros's responsibilities, I can't grumble. They've got a new cafeteria on the Parliamentary Estate, and the food is pretty good. Not exactly cheap, but fair value and well prepared.

Next, some time with my kid brother, Kirk (the tall, dark handsome one). I try to get down to London to see my family as time permits, especially as I couldn't reasonably have been described as a dutiful son in the past. I took him to the Red Lion, just off St James's Square, and we chewed the fat for a while.

I was then left with a little time on my hands, so I went shopping, looking for some music. I also picked up a thermal long-sleeved vest, which will be handy in Finland in February.

Finally, in what turned out to be quite a busy day, I headed to Islington for a meeting of the Management Board of 'Unlock Democracy'. I have to admit that I wasn't properly prepared, to the point of being uncertain as to whether there was going to be a meeting at all. It went alright though, and I was able to make what I thought were salient contributions.

And now I'm on my way home to the country... too much London can be stressful...
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