None of the Above - Stump at the Pump

As I write, the candidates will be counting the minutes to when the polls close in the Eastleigh by-election in Hampshire, UK.  In just a few hours time one of them will be named the Member of Parliament.  They will all be relieved it's over as its been a bloody battle - the campaigning, positioning and mud-slinging has been less than edifying.   Meanwhile, the voter, as so often before, has been left looking on in dismay at the choices before them.   It's felt like a farcical private dance between the politicos,  with the community left as something that exists outside the in-crowd manoeuvring.

The constituents would no doubt be chewing the cud over the shocking quality of today's politics over a pint of beer or a glass of wine in their local pub, if it hadn't probably closed.  Where do people go now to put the world to rights, now they don't talk about stuff in The Snug.  Online of course is where they are, in their bedrooms and in front of the telly - compounding loneliness and allowing anonymity.  This is certainly not a substitute for the warmth of human interaction and the heat of real live debate.  

I think its sad so many of our pubs have closed in the UK, research from CAMRA (Campaign for Real Ale) puts the number at 18 a week - which is shocking for such an iconic feature of British culture

So what about this for a solution - to return politics to the people and custom to the pumps.    

• Let's start a political party called the 'Z - None of the Above' party, which will ensure it is listed at the bottom of the voting slip.  
• One struggling pub in every constituency will sponsor a parliamentary candidate covering the £500 deposit.  (They'll get this back many times through increased trade)
• Anyone can apply with each pub's customers choosing the candidate with local hustings in the bar.  
• Our party will be entitled to the electoral benefits such as the free postage of a leaflet to every elector broadcast airtime etc.  

What a great way to claw back politics for the people and away from the political closed shop and get people talking properly again, bolstering a local community venue and promoting a local business.    

All shall eat cake.....

Yesterday was my birthday and I was treated to amazing foodie delights - each a visual feast too.  I make no apologies for writing of nothing else today.  Normal service will be resumed tomorrow. 

  

I head out most mornings to work in local cafes (as in to 'write' in cafes not waitress, a confusion I had to clear up when friends started sending sorrowful emails worrying that "it had come to this!" Not that I'd mind waitressing actually.  Happy days were when it was my main income as a student and it's how I met my husband when I worked at his restaurant)

Anyway yesterday the writing fuel was a Cornish Stack breakfast at one of my favourite places The Boston Tea Party.

It consists of slices of Hog's pudding with smoked streaky bacon, and onions, bread topped with melted gruyere cheese, garlic and thyme mushrooms, roasted vine cherry tomatoes and a poached egg.  

I was then treated to a family lunch at The Muset in Clifton village - the best smart restaurant in Bristol - offering incredible value too.  At the moment it's £10 for two courses and a glass of wine.  Chef wasn't too precious not to include a candle on his desert confection!

And then finally, walking home later came across some lovely people handing out free cake and hot chocolate to passers by.   We stopped - of course we did!

They were delicious, served up by Lucy Peppiatt, her family and friends.  

She told me; "We just decided that we wanted to do something kind for people in Stokes Croft. As my son said when someone asked him 'Why are you giving out cake?' -  'Why not?' 

 We had some good conversations with people, young and old, men and women. It was so good just to be able to be friendly.  I wasn't surprised to find that a few people were suspicious - why are doing this, what's the catch, what's in the cake?! They laughed though when we assured them there really wasn't a catch, and I think they enjoyed the fact that we really did just want to give something for free! All in all, it was a great experience of doing something on the streets of Bristol. I like the fact that in a world where there really isn't much for free, that we really could genuinely give something for nothing."

Doctrine wasn't served up with my cup cake but on asking I did find out that Lucy and the others are part of Crossnet an Anglican community who had the idea a few years ago to do church differently.  

So that was yesterday - the diet starts today.

Leisure - All that Jazz

Tucked away in one of Bristol's oldest parts of the city is a pub.  A world famous pub called The Old Duke.  It's not its ales, or decor (certainly not its decor!) that makes it such a destination for those in the know - it is that it's a venue for the most wonderful, timeless and joyous live music - traditional, New Orleans inspired Jazz. 

  

Named now after Duke Ellington,  the pub building dates back to 1775 when it was called The Duke of Cumberland after on cobbled King St.  It  attracts musicians from all over the world whenever they are near the city. The atmosphere is always amazing.  Every day there is free admission to fantastic music - sometimes bands, sometimes open mic and sometimes pull-together scratch ensembles as it was last Sunday including the incredible Andy Leggett from Germany who's instruments included a tin whistle and this magnificent bass saxophone.  http://www.andyleggett.com/en/

I love jazz - it is timeless, classless, ageless, just simply gorgeous music that has everyone smiling and toe tapping along.  The Old Duke in Bristol is just the happiest place to be - especially on a Sunday lunchtime.      

Work - It would be easier if all women were called Wendy

"It would be easier if all girls were called Wendy." That was the rationale of one of my first News Editors who proceeded to call all the women journalists in the newsroom by that name - this in the same organisation where Jimmy Saville was at the time.  As far as I can remember we thought it bonkers and laughed at him.  But at the same time we did know the individual intonation he would give each 'Wendy' when he wanted the attention of one of us! 

That was back in the day and now it would not be a laughing matter - but I bet he'd still have us all as Wendys in his head even if he knew better than to voice it.  

Giving lip service to gender equality in the workplace was on the agenda for the Professional Women's Network meeting at OC&C Strategy Consultants this month.  The motion was "Does the issue of Female Representation on Company Boards need politics?"

The speakers were Helena Morrissey, CEO Newton Investment Management and 30% Club Founder, Therese Coffey, MP Chair of Executive Women in the Workplace, Meg Lustman, Managing Director of Warehouse and Helen Loveless, Enterprise Editor of Associated Newspapers.

A packed room of professional women from all sectors heard that while some things had changed in support of having more women in top positions on boards  - the shift was pretty minimal and was more about it being a subject out there for discussion rather any conversion into significant numbers in the boardroom.  

However, apart from a few questioners, the consensus came down clearly against any sort of quota legislation or political intervention.   Personally I think it would be terrible to have any sort of positive discrimination - have never wanted it, or felt I needed it - this one man's Wendy has been another's MD and for every difficult Board-blocking man I've worked with, I've worked for equally tricksy women.     

What was more poignant were the questions (from younger women) that veered away from the central theme.  Never mind reaching the heady heights of the boardroom - other old chestnuts had their outing. ie How to balance having a family with building a career (one answer from the panel - choose your career carefully) and how to  prioritise 'his' or 'her' career expectations and opportunities in a relationship with family plans.  I think it fair to say that most older women in the room didn't feel our younger sisters had reached sunny uplands compared to our own early career days - however un-PC they might have been.  

 

Relationships - on not being the favourite daughter

A survey reported in today's news says that 1 in 12 parents admits to having a child they love more than the rest.  Eight percent of parents say they know they show favouritism to one child above others.  This would be inconceivable to me, speaking as a mother of two children I completely love equally, if it wasn't for my experience as a daughter. 

My mother, always frank, has become increasingly disinhibited as she has got older.  She is now almost 80.  Just five feet tall with the brightest blue eyes and snowy white curly hair, with her flat, round toed Sarah Jane red shoes and cuddly cardies she looks like a central casting Granny. But the breath-taking candour of her outspoken observations isn't softened at all by their delivery in her soft Southern Irish accent. 

My sister and I have had our appearances, marriages, parenting skills and all life-style choices used as material for  inimitable maternal barbs.  

But  yesterday's announcement was classic when she announced to me in the middle of a busy cafe  that she preferred my sister to me.    My sister who was with us, winced along with the neighbouring coffee drinkers.  We'd both learned long ago not to take offence at Mum's statements and my sister has individually had just as devastating prounouncements directed at her,  but for the sake of all listening closely now to our table's conversation I said lightly, "Oh Mum - you don't have to tell me that."

"I do," she insisted.  "I do have to tell you.  Because its true.  Its always been true."   

Telling a friend about this exchange I was surprised to hear her story of contrary.  Although nothing is ever said, she feels her mother's constant disapproval of her compared to the praise and favouritism extended to her older brothers.  She feels their relationship has been eroded to a mere sham over the years by the hypocrisy.  "After all, she said, "Its not that your mother doesn't love you at all, she didn't say that and at least you know that if that was the case she'd tell you."

Mmm, not sure about her logic. Which is it best to be?  Better out than in?  Or least said, soonest mended? Leave a comment or email me direct at caroline@thelifeaudit.com if you have any thoughts.

Leisure - and love remembered

I walk for an hour most days primarily for health and to assuage the guilt, that the day before I ate and drank too much, was probably mostly sedentary and most likely indoors.  As I heave on the hairshirt grumpily each morning I choose to forget that I almost always finish the exercise feeling so much better and glad I made the effort.  

The feeling better has nothing to do with feeling fitter, thinner or that cobwebs have been blown away, I don't even particularly enjoy the walking itself - no, the feeling better is always down to something else. Hence this post not being under health and exercise.   This morning it was flowers that was the something else.   I like flowers, I'm interested in the seasons and nature and all that stuff and my walk today indulged me in flora in several guises.     Despite the grass being crispy underfoot with frost from the start of the cold snap, the buds were bursting on most bushes.

As were the catkins.....

Then I saw this bizarre sight where someone had stuck fresh flowers into the gnarls of a tree.  

Nearby a bunch of flowers had been firmly attached to a bench.  What story was behind these floral tributes?  What happened with whom on the bench and under the tree?  A love lost? A love remembered? For whatever and by whosoever, saying it with flowers was clearly the private tribute to a happy memory.  I hope it gave solace.

Meanwhile, keeping with the flowery theme - giving me a fizz of pleasure every time I go in and out of the flat are my newly potted up spring flowers and herbs.  Typically done just as the frost returned for another icy blast.  I hope they survive!