Reflections on the day. The Protest In The Park came and went, enthusiastically supported by our brethren from Lincolnshire. I am told there were more policemen, reporters and onlookers than there were protesters. It was peaceful. It was pointless. I'm not sure if there were any official UKIP representatives there, but there were certainly a handful of 'the usual suspects'. Yes, people are entitled to feel irritated, baffled, resentful and uncomfortable at the sheer scale of migration from Eastern Europe into our little East Anglian towns. But it is entirely legal. It is entirely understandable that people from the broken remnants of the Soviet Union would leap at the chance to travel to a country where there is plenty of opportunities for unskilled workers, a universal and largely free health service, and an education system which may be flawed, but still gives opportunities to children prepared to work hard.
Standing in a Wisbech park, un-noticed and un-cared for by the real people in power, and sounding off against 'the migrant hordes' is as big a waste of time as I can think of. It may have given certain people the idea that they are moving things forward, or setting down a marker. Be not fooled. No-one important could care less. The great mistakes were made years ago, when the politicians danced dreamily into a Euro Heaven of their own making. The divisions in the Conservative Party today show just how complex and intractable the problem is.
The Estonians, Latvians, Lithuanians, Poles, Portuguese and Hungarians are here. And they are probably here to stay. Even if the Conservatives have a 'Road To Damascus' moment, and give us a referendum on leaving the EU before 2017, it can't be made retrospective. So, what's the best way forward? The only possible answer is one word. Engagement. We Brits need to accept where we are and how it stands. Look for the positives. Make an effort. Be the first to start up a conversation with your foreign neighbour. Make sure you chat to the Lithuanian mum waiting for her kiddie at the school gates. Try some of the foreign shops. Unlike the home-grown variety, they certainly seem to be doing well in out town centre.
But this is not a one-way street. If you have emigrated to this country because it is a better place for you and your family, then you have responsibilities. Not responsibilities imposed by law, because this is Britain. It is not Pakistan, or Saudi Arabia, or China. Respect our customs. Value our freedoms. Register to vote, and be part of our democratic system. But first, second third and last - make an effort to learn our language. Don't rely on the fact that there are enough of your compatriots in your street, outside your childrens' school, or at work who speak your language. Most people in Wisbech don't speak your language. It is not easy, as an adult, to learn a complex foreign language, but there is help available. There are free classes for you in the town, at times to fit in with your family schedule. This is your biggest challenge - don't duck out of it.
This sounds like a sermon. But there is hope. While the words of division and conflict were wafting over the green acres of Wisbech Park, there was something else going on. Something vibrant, happy, energetic and positive. At the Rosmini Centre, there was an International Children's Festival. There was music, there was laughter. There was a balloon launch, a bouncy castle and Sumo wrestlers. I don't do slogans, but "hope not hate" seems pretty good, really. I can't think of a time when I was more proud to be part of the Wisbech Community.Follow @wisbechevenmore
Good for her. Dave Patrick expressed his disgust at the whimpering from the defeated with this put-down.
THE PARTY POLITICAL MAP OF WISBECH has been dramatically redrawn by the results of Thursday's County Council Elections. There has been a clean sweep for UKIP in the Roman Bank and Peckover, Wisbech South, Wisbech North, and Waldersey divisions. The margin of victory in Roman Bank was tiny - just 11 votes - but elsewhere it was substantial.
THERE ARE AT LEAST TWO ELECTORATES IN THE TOWN. Many of the candidates are prolific bloggers and Tweeters and have a Facebook presence. Some have their own websites. Debate on such sites as Wisbech…Oh Dear is intense and can be vitriolic. And yet, and yet. The turnout for this election, on a warm and pleasant May day was pretty poor. On Wisbech..Oh Dear, there was little but disdain for the local Conservatives, but UKIP is regarded with deep suspicion, particularly over its links with far right protest groups. So, did we online gurus get it wrong? Was there a large group of off-liners who had simply had enough?
ROMAN BANK & PECKOVER. This was, for me, the biggest surprise. For all that his Rottweiler approach to discussion and challenge has made me shudder over the last few years, no-one can fault Steve Tierney in his work for his division. He has managed what appear to be complex business interests with tireless appearances at parish meetings and local surgeries, and seems to have always made himself available to people. And yet he is beaten by someone who wrote a virulent and unpleasant letter to the local paper on the vexed subject of immigration.
WISBECH SOUTH. Simon King was another casualty. He was clearly not one of the Wisbech Tory 'ratpack'. He seemed to keep himself to himself, and was unafraid to involve himself with issues which his party colleagues distanced themselves from.On a personal level, he worked very hard to get a school place for the daughter of one of my adult students. The girl has learning difficulties, and had been without a school place for a long time.
WISBECH NORTH. Samantha Hoy was the 'junior' of the Conservative team, both in age and years in post. She won the seat in a by-election in 2010. The online world was lit up by daily reports of skulduggery and dirty tricks. It was rumoured that Dave Patrick (Lib Dem), who had come second in the 2009 election, had stood aside to give Virginia Bucknor (Ind) a clear run. There were constant claims and counter claims between the two ladies that each was doing the other down. In the end, both succumbed to UKIP's Paul Clapp, who had come second in 2009. A footnote should be a word of love and praise for Dean Reeves. He continues to represent Labour in the town, in the teeth of constant knock-backs. If there were any way in which politicians could be appointed rather than elected, he would be a shoo-in. He is a lovely, kind and principled man who deserves better from his adopted town.
CONCLUSIONS? It would take a better political commentator than this one to make sense of it all. That the estimable Gordon Gillick claims that he never knocked on one door, never posted one leaflet and never made one phone call, and is still 'swept to power' perhaps says it all. I have no idea what UKIP did right, but I have a good idea what the Conservatives did wrong. Firstly, and perhaps most forgivably, they failed to distance themselves from their disreputable and discredited political masters at Westminster. The impression was 'Party first, local people second.' Secondly, with exception of Simon King they got it totally and utterly wrong on local issues. Yes, the business of the derelict buildings is principally a District Council matter, but as County Councillors they had influence. And power. And a strong voice. Did they use it? No. The constant mockery of efforts to move things forward on resolving the 'Belfast Building Bombsite', the constant mantra of "This is a lovely town, there are no problems, you are all just too negative," may have been loud, but it was an empty echo. The demise of the preposterous Nick Clarke will hopefully see the end of the 'smoke and mirrors' Wisbech 20/20, which has brought us - correct me if I'm wrong - a few brown signs. Thirdly, the very public cultivation of a triumphant, gleeful Tory clique of town, district and county councillors has sown a bad seed. The seed has grown tall and blossomed into a thriving young tree. My advice - stop slapping each other's backs. Stop leaping to each other's aid on Twitter, like tag-team wrestlers. Stop dancing to the same distorted tune. Think for yourselves, and listen to what ordinary Wisbech people are worried about.
THE CASE OF THE MISSING EDITOR. And finally. Twitter people will have been enlivened over the last months by the constant cut and thrust between John Elworthy (editor of most newspapers in East Anglia) and his targets (mostly Tory councillors, it has to be said) He has taken Sam Hoy to task over her employment record, and Steve Tierney over…well, more things than I have room to mention. But he goes deathly quiet a week from the election. His Twitter account is suspended. He is alive and well. Fellow hacks have reported his presence at events across the region. Tweeters have suggested he has been got at by none other than the former leader of Cambridgeshire County Council. This is unconfirmed rumour. It may be true. It may be a tissue of lies. But when I lamented his passing on Twitter earlier a certain (ex) councillor replied "good riddance". Which was a lovely song by Green Day, if memory serves. Bon Nuit.
CHICKENS COMING HOME TO ROOST. This strange phrase has always puzzled me. I have kept chickens on and off most of my adult life. Chickens are among the most loveable of birds, yet probably the most foolish. They possess no great beauty, no amazing powers of endurance and no science-defying navigational skills. They are usually breathtakingly stupid, petty, quarrelsome and insanitary. But we love them for their flesh and their eggs. Of course they come home to roost. If not, they will be eaten, nastily and in a bloodthirsty fashion by the fox.
Quite how the humble chicken and its nocturnal habits came to be a metaphor for human misdeeds returning to haunt the perpetrator is lost in the mists of time. Via the miracle of the internet I can tell you that Chaucer said, in The Parson's Tale,
"And ofte tyme swich cursynge wrongfully retorneth agayn to hym that curseth, as a bryd that retorneth agayn to his owene nest."
(No, that's not a screenshot of your daughter's latest text message, neither is it a quote from Wisbech Immigration Issues Facebook page) In later years, the Ancient Mariner shoots an albatross, as you do, but finds that his deed comes back to haunt him.
"Ah! well a-day! what evil looks
Had I from old and young!
Instead of the cross, the Albatross
About my neck was hung."
"To-day we have naming of parts." Ermm, no, sorry. Today we have my visit to Wisbech Market. Or what is left of it. I drove to Somers Road car park, hoping to find the odd free bay. Instead, I saw a vast expanse of empty tarmac. I could actually have landed my luxurious private jet there, and not come near another vehicle. There was room for my six corporate stretch limousines to park end to end without causing an obstruction. I locked the car, and walked up into town. Thank God there was no wind, because the tumbleweed blowing in from the desert would have bowled me over. The Market Place was a retail Marie Celeste. There was the brave lady selling fruit and veg, the excellent Russell's Meat stall, and the rather random stall selling birdseed and reconstituted artificial dog bones. And Rout's Fish Stall. That oasis of good taste, good sense, good humour and bad gossip. Mrs Finnis had served about six people all day, and was at her wits' end. I bought fish from her, some lovely ham from Franks butchers, and fled to the deserted car park.
BUT THERE IS NOT A PROBLEM. Such accounts as this are regularly discredited. Certain of our elected (well, some of them) representatives claim that I am negative, destructive and "part of the problem". Their joy at the sheer vibrancy of Wisbech's central business district is unconfined; no positive outpouring of praise is too extreme, and no rose is too pink to tint their glasses. They throw out (or should that be 'up'?) exciting visions of late-night bistros, citizen street patrols and arts centres, a vibrant pavement culture - 'The Town That Never Sleeps'. But what do they actually do? They refuse to support the only independent initiative which seeks to question Fenland District Council's inertia over the derelict buildings which continue to blight Wisbech. They ridicule and mock efforts to try to restore our town's infrastructure. When challenged online, they behave like a shabby and sweaty tag-team of wrestlers, leaping in to defend each other when defeat looms. And when one of their number faces an electoral challenge, they stoop to underhand tricks, media manipulation and a little economy with the verite. A bit obscure? OK. Telling huge porkies.
YOU MAY ARGUE that local politicians are not responsible for the retail malaise which afflicts so many High Streets up and down the country. Say that more powerful economic forces are at play, and that our town is just another victim of a global problem, and I will not argue with you. But tell me that the current crop of County Councillors (with one very notable exception - am I allowed to name Simon King? No? OK then, I won't). have engaged fully in community efforts to revitalise Wisbech, and have cast aside party politics in the best interests of Wisbech residents, and I will call you a fool and a knave. I would not be so presumptuous as to tell you who to vote for, but the last four years of inertia and complacency have taken their toll. IT IS TIME FOR A CHANGE!
I realise that this has little or no relevance to Wisbech, but someone may read it, and If they are affected by my words, then they will not have been entirely wasted.
Margaret Thatcher has died at the age of 87. A frail and lonely figure , plagued by dementia, and isolated by the death of her husband, she cut a sorry figure in recent years. Her death has divided the nation as successfully as it did during her eleven years of office. The usual Wisbech suspects have been tweeting their hearts out in her praises. As well they might, despite the fact that they were either babes in arms or schoolchildren when she was in power. That is an insignificant barrier. The wonderful irony of party politics is that it is totally Orwellian. 'Two legs' is good. 'Four legs' is bad. And this applies to ends of the spectrum, Left and Right.
Let me state my credentials to comment on her passing. During Mrs Thatcher's reign, I was a young taxpayer, husband and father, trying to make an honest living. I was Mrs Thatcher's nightmare - educated and hopefully enlightened, but working in the public services. Which had rules. And regulations. And codes of conduct. For some reason yet undiscovered by historians or psychologists, Margaret Thatcher was obsessed with the destruction of codes of conduct. Of responsibility for others. Of concern for the 'little guy'.
She was gifted with cartoon opponents. President Galtieri of Argentina was a pathetic and opportunist general whose lamp faded as quickly as it flared into life. Michael Foot, and Neil Kinnock were well-meaning but inconsequential Labour party leaders. It would be an exaggeration to say that she had them for breakfast. It was more that they were a dusty tube of sweets at the bottom of her handbag, which she occasionally snacked on.
She was destroyed by her own party. She never lost an election. Politicians are only loyal when they feel their own seats are safe. If they feel threatened, then they lash out, turn nasty, and seek scapegoats and alternatives. It is safe to say that I would trust a party politician no further than I would be able to throw a concert grand piano. Your trust in them may last the hour, but don't put your mortgage on it.
So, an elderly lady is lionised and vilified. She made Britain 'great' again. She' destroyed my community.' But she is dead. After years of life with a carer and a rather bored attendant police officer, a stroke has consigned her to the classification of being a late Prime Minister. My message to the haters is simple. Let her go. She is gone. God bless her. Whatever good or evil she wrought in her lifetime has long since passed. If your only words are full of venom, then please hold your tongue.
IT MAY BE THAT THE TOXIC COCKTAIL THAT IS WISBECH PARTY POLITICS is no more poisonous and vile than anywhere else in the land. I would only say that there are two full months to go before the County Council elections, and if our would-be representatives carry on at this rate, they will need to follow the hapless Gazza to his American rehab centre. This cartoon is from a bygone age but, with a little embellishment from myself, just about sums things up.
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I WAS SADDENED TO READ that our town Post Office may be on its last legs. But every cloud has a silver lining. One of the acquired skills in my late and unlamented management career was an ability to talk fluent bull***t. Thus, nasty things were not challenges, they were OPPORTUNITIES! So, as we speak, and as the sheets of stamps and tax discs, and bundles of currency are being boxed up to be traded from a Portacabin somewhere out the back of QD, we must rejoice that the shelves, chiller cabinets and vegetable racks for yet another 24/7 convenience store and off-licence are being assembled. No doubt one or two of our finest dignitaries will be penning their supportive speeches for the day when the licence application comes before the district committee. And while our Cambridgeshire coppers bang their heads against the nearest brick wall about this lunacy, we can be thankful that the signs - promised to us by the visionaries at Wisbech 20/20, have finally arrived. They will leave the visitor to our fair town in no doubt what kind of cultural experience awaits them.
FURTHER MUSINGS ON SPRING, SNOWDROPS AND EMERGING BLOOMS. Despite yesterday's ravings, I want to reiterate something I said in an earlier post. It is utterly pointless to blame local politicians for the failings of a succession of national governments. Yes, I said it. Don't blame town, district or county councillors for the immigration mess. They are here to serve us, they will tell us, on local issues . BUT - and this is a skyscraper of a BUT which will loom over all the other tower blocks in Butville. The May election will not be about purely local issues, regrettable though that may be. It will be about frustration. It will be about people feeling hurt and bewildered that they are not being listened to. It will be about lashing out. It will be about sending a message. And it will not be a pretty message in a scented envelope.
