A week is a long time in politics

I know it’s not like me to talk politics on here, but the events of the last week can’t be ignored.

I guess I always knew that the return of a Labour government was more of a wish than a reality. We’ve been through some tough times, and whoever was in power was going to shoulder the blame in the campaign. There were many who voiced that they thought it was ‘time for a change’. I can never understand this. Do these people not think about what this change might mean? Do they not remember the 80’s and early 90’s? They can’t all be first time voters.

I’d been impressed with Nick Clegg and the Liberal Democrats during the campaign, and with my own politics sitting firmly left of centre, I’d thought they would capture more seats (hopefully my own from the Tories, but that was wishful thinking*). Then, after the day, it turned out that it hadn’t quite been the Labour wipe out that some had predicted, and there were deals to be done.

While the wrangling and discussions went on, the rest of the country carried on with its business, I went to Stratford, and Brown stayed in Downing Street. I began to hope that he would continue to do so. I found the outrage of some Tory spokesmen quite amusing when they realised that Clegg was speaking to both parties. To me, it always seemed that there was more commonality between Labour and the Lib Dems than between them and the Tories, and I could see them working well together.

But by Tuesday evening it was over. The deal had been done with the Tories, and Labour were out of office. If you were to ask me where I was when Gordon Brown resigned, well, I was actually coming through the checkout in Tesco, and following it on Twitter. By the time I got home, and the TV on, he was in the car on the way to the palace. I found myself in tears at his speech, and his dignity. In retrospect I think he will be judged a lot more kindly than he has been. I couldn’t bear to watch smug faced Cameron speaking to the media, so when he arrived at No 10, at that point I abandoned the news channels.

So now we have a new government, and new PM, and, for the first time in many, many, years, Liberals at the Cabinet table. Yet I can’t help feeling that Clegg has sold out, that he has been wooed with a seat at the big boys table, and that their presence in the Cabinet will have less impact than we might like to think. The news is all talk of a ‘new kind of politics’, but whilst some policies may have been shelved for the moment, we can but wait and see if they creep back in.

In 1997, I cheered and wore red the day after the election, even though I knew that a Labour government would get rid of the organisation I worked for*, this time I feel a huge sadness that we have put back in power a party which is dedicated to looking after it’s own, and cutting spending on those who really need it.

*Though we had a 70% turn out and they only had a 3,500 majority, so it could have been possible
*To be honest, it needed getting rid of.

A little bit of Stratford

I stand on the tramway bridge looking at the Avon in, at last, the Spring sunshine, and take a moment. The new theatre is finally taking shape, and from this distance it looks almost finished. Despite what the others said about its appearance yesterday, to me it isn’t about what it looks like. The building has never been attractive, and the main house was always a difficult space where you could feel miles away from the action, but the theatrical history, the memories of performances past, along with the hope for what will be to come, makes it so very special. When it opens we will finally have more than one theatre again.
From the same bridge, as the river curves away, I can see the spire of Holy Trinity. This is Shakespeare’s town, and oh how I love it. I’ve said it before, but there is just something about this town which lifts the spirits. It’s always been a place of escape for me, away from any stresses and pressures of the day to day. I’m someone who hates going into a pub on my own, but in Stratford I’m quite happy to go to the Duck, where there’s usually an actor or two in sight. It’s a small town, so you do tend to trip over members of the company. Yes, in many ways it’s commercialised, and you’re always within a stones throw of a ‘Hathaway’ tea rooms or a ‘Shakespeare’ bookshop, but somehow the mass tourism doesn’t matter. To visit the houses where he lived, and, this time, even the deer park where he allegedly did a bit of poaching, and to hear his words spoken on stage is just magical.

It breaks my heart slightly to leave it. I don’t want to return to the ‘real’ world, where I’m still trying to adapt to the new job. But I know it’s never goodbye. I just have to plan the next opportunity to visit.

It’s just 'farewell', until the next time.