I went to see Caitlin Moran in conversation on Friday night. She has a new book out called ‘How to Be Hopeful’. I intend to have it on my Christmas list. If you are at all interested in attempting to save your sanity, then you might want to consider it too. If you don’t think your sanity needs saving, or indeed it has sailed off into the distance with absolutely no hope of return, then maybe skip it.
According to Ms Moran, women of a certain age tend to go on a quest. I am a woman of a certain age. And I have to say that going on a quest sounded rather exciting. I sat wondering what my quest would be. And when I would be going on it. I hoped it involved Henry Cavill and a trip to Greece. Soon. As I pondered on this, one of my friends leaned over to me and whispered in my ear that for three of our number, we were already slap bang in the middle of our quest, and that had involved standing for and being elected to public office. Damn! No Henry or trip to Greece for me. It then occurred to me that on my right was Brunette Friend, our friendship having been forged through the Baptism of Fire that was raising the funds for and building a pre-school well over six, seven or even eight years ago now. I have been on a quest for some years and I had been so busy doing it, I hadn’t even realised.
As we listened we were all encouraged to look for the golden thread in life. So whilst some days are hard. Some weeks are tough. And sometimes it feels like whole years are struggling through a quagmire, in an entirely loving and supportive way Caitlin suggested that we should all, including herself, try and focus on the here and now, difficult as that may be. The good things. Because everything around us is set up to respond disproportionately to the bad. Which magnifies the bad. And makes us forget the good. And there is much good. But good doesn’t get outraged and it doesn’t get clicks.
Before I stood for election, someone said to me that standing for the Lib Dems meant that I was a fence-sitter. They didn’t know me. Clearly. But it did make me think about how the Lib Dems are perceived. People think we’re nice and relatively inoffensive. There’s obviously the cliche that we all wear socks and sandals. Most of the time we are both nice and relatively inoffensive. Unless you nick our seats on trains or try and push in front of us in traffic, which if you do either to me will result in a response a lot more surprising than a loud tut. Socks and sandals are unforgivable in my view, but I gather from young people, it is fashionable to wear them together if you are a young person. But people generally don’t seem to know what the Lib Dems really stand for.
The official line is this: “The Liberal Democrats exist to build and safeguard a fair, free and open society, in which we seek to balance the fundamental values of liberty, equality and community, and in which no-one shall be enslaved by poverty, ignorance or conformity.” Yup. That’s it. Wordy. Not very sexy. As Lib Dems we’d much prefer to build the pre-school, help with fixing the church roof and then get on with the next thing. Also not sexy. Not headline grabbing. No one is frothing with rage about a new sports pavilion for the village. Apoplectic about new noticeboards. Positively livid about safe accommodation for females. All things that have happened in my ward and District under our watch. Quiet. Necessary. Work.
Or to put it another way; when Brunette Friend and I were absolutely at the end of our tethers with the preschool, in desperation she sent me a message asking me why on earth we were putting ourselves through this. I wasn’t entirely sure myself, but we were so far in it at that point, the only way to get out was through it, so rather than reply that I didn’t bloody know and it was her fault as much as it was mine, I decided that a bolstering message was what was required. I told her that it was the task that had fallen to us. And whilst to many people we lived in a tiny, insignificant corner of the world, it was our corner, in our world, and we wanted to make it better for everyone. So that is what we must do. And with many, many other people in our community, we did.
When I was elected, Brunette Friend bought me a key ring. Every single day when I leave the house and lock the door, it invites me to remember to put my Big Girl Pants On. Although I have never dared ask if it was a direct plea to even out the disparity between the more than adequate size of my bottom compared with the wholly inadequate size of my underwear, I assumed it meant something more philosophical; that I was officially responsible now and I had better brace myself. Doing that project with the friend sat on my right-hand side had led me to doing the bigger thing with the two friends sat on my left-hand side. And whatever happens, whoever shouts at me, trolls me or calls me a dipshit, all of which have happened, I can never not be grateful for the opportunity of changing our tiny corner of the world for the better, and for doing it with them and all of the other good people I have met and who have helped us along the way. Whatever we’re doing, however we’re doing it and whoever we’re doing it with, we will always, always look for the golden thread. And apart from the socks, sandals and massive pants, that’s what makes us Lib Dems.
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