They think it's all over ... it is now
Thursday, October 8, 2009 
Well, that's the party conference season over for another year. Thanks to Karen and Jacqui for all their help over the past three weeks. Together with Liberal Vision and The Freedom Association, we co-hosted/organised four events - two speaker meetings and two drinks parties.
For their help at the Lib Dem conference thanks to Mark Littlewood, Angela Harbutt and Dave Atherton. For organising The Freedom Zone at the Conservative conference, thanks to Simon Richards and Jane Broadhurst of The Freedom Association. Thanks too to all our speakers and special guests (see previous posts).
Considering there is a general election in the offing, the atmosphere in Bournemouth, Brighton and Manchester was relatively low key.
I sometimes wonder what it must have been like living in the Lake District during the Second World War. Now I know. Going to a Lib Dem conference is like standing on the peak of Helvellyn enjoying the scenery while the Battle of Britain rages several hundred miles away.
The Labour conference was positively funereal. They really should put themselves out of their misery and call an election. They will lose heavily but at least they can elect a new leader and rebuild. Instead we've got another eight months of the living dead.
This week in Manchester the Tories have done well not to sound triumphant. Then again, the prospect of taking over a nation up to its eyeballs in debt is pretty daunting. You can see the headlines in two years: as unemployment continues to rise, tax increases hit home and inflation returns, Cameron's Conservatives are going to be struggling for public support. It will be 1981 all over again. The only hope for Cameron is that Spain invades Gibraltar and ... well, you know the rest.
As for my own conference experiences, here are a couple of things I didn't mention in earlier posts:
Brighton: drove down from Cambridgeshire, arriving at midnight. Sought out the Ramada Hotel and attempted to check in. They had no record of my booking and said they were fully booked. I persisted. The booking, I said, had been made months ago. There must be some mistake.
The prospect of spending the night in my car on the seafront didn't appeal. So I took out my laptop and said: "Look, I have the confirmation email here. I'll show you." The battery was dead. In desperation I said: "Can I plug my laptop into a socket in your office?"
The receptionist agreed. I turned on the laptop, retrieved the relevant email and .... I was in the wrong hotel! (Cue undignified retreat to the Thistle Hotel, half a mile down the road.)
Bournemouth: handing out invitations to the Forest/Liberal Vision event I was approached by a perky middle-aged man wearing suspiciously tight trousers. We got chatting. He outlined his plans for day. They included looking for a sauna. He then gripped my arm, pulled me towards him and whispered a lewd but unmistakeable proposition in my ear.
Thanks, but no thanks.
(And yes, he was attending the conference!)
PS. Our meeting in Manchester ("Will a Conservative government challenge the bully state?") was featured on the BBC News website here: Dispatches from the Freedom Zone.
Reader Comments (3)
Brilliant - well done to all concerned!
I'm sorry I could not join you in Manchester or Brighton but thanks for the mention. It was with great regret that I did no catch the eye of Lynne Featherstone. I was standing outside the conference in Bournemouth handing out the flyers for the Forest/Free Society event and it was time for a roll up. Walked over to the wall to put my flyers down, produced papers, filter and tobacco, turned round and lovely Lynne had just sailed on past on her way to a fringe event. It is not often I regret smoking.
However, the previous night after negotiating my way past a Liberal MP with a gaggle of ladies in attendance, no names, no pack drill, desperately waving my £10 note like a windmill in a force 10 storm, to get served. A nice young man in a striking shirt was in the queue too. I complemented him on his sartorial elegance and he pointed out there were a few other nice young men dressed accordingly. He was a Lib Dem Councillor in Brighton.
Indeed Simon, tight trousers, saunas and Liberal Democrat conferences, must be the sea air.
Simon says he was approached by a perky middle-aged man wearing suspiciously tight trousers. They got chatting. He outlined his plans for day. They included looking for a sauna. He then gripped Simon's arm, pulled him towards him and whispered a lewd but unmistakable proposition in his ear.
Firstly Simon, why were you looking at the man's trousers, and their apparent tightness?
Secondly, did the proposition involve soap, or maybe a large bunch of twigs?