Saturday, 20 March 2010
To Fordham - and I couldn't get my leg over the butcher's boy's bike!
I canvassed a substantial part of the village, including all of Newport Avenue, St. Peter's Place, Sharmans Road, Thirlwall Drive, Trinity Close, and parts of Mildenhall Road and River Lane. I had meant to do more, but was rained 'orf' on a number of occasions.
I really mean warmth (as above), with one exception, where I can only describe my initial welcome as 'hot.' The gentleman said, 'I don't want nothing to do with you.' And do you know what the problem was, dear readers? He initially thought that I was a party politician. I explained that I was not from or connected with any political party and am independent. His tone changed immediately and he undertook to read my literature. I know that he was very forthright and he was only one of many who are less so, but the message I get from him and many others was and is this, 'All of the major political parties are the same: we're fed up with them and their representatives.'
Lots of people say something like this and I, for one, am pleased that I have not been involved with any political party since 1999, when I resigned my membership of the South East Cambridgeshire Conservative Association. I make the point nowadays that there is surely a lot to be said for a truly independent candidate who will listen, take advice, think things through for himself and make up his own mind on the issues that affect us all, and then act and vote accordingly. I will no longer toe 'the party line' or any party line because the party line is often wrong and is subject to changes anyway.
There is good and bad in all of the major parties and I want to support that which is good and to throw out that which is rotten. Sadly, there is a lot that is rotten in British politics and we must restore trust in Parliament, both in the House of Commons and in the House of Lords.
Let's now lighten up a bit. My calls included one on my sister and brother-in-law. They produced something which I didn't know that they had - an old butcher's boy's bike, fully restored and with the name and address of my late father on it. I don't know who the butcher's boy who rode the butcher's boy's bike was, but I reckon that he had longer legs than me, for I couldn't get my leg over the butcher's boy's bike!
Here's a picture of me trying - to get my leg over - and I just couldn't. ("L.W.J. Woollard, Farmer & Butcher, Chalk Farm, Bottisham, Telephone: Bottisham 9" was my late father). I felt something of a fool, but so what. Please enjoy a laugh at my expense!