Why are people googling ‘Niles crazy’ ?
And why are they finding me when they do?
Who was it who googled ‘Chris Huhne Myers Briggs’? They wouldn’t have found anything useful here either, but I’d go for ISTP. I’d have Simon as ENFJ and Ming as INTJ.
Erm, Peter Snow applies. Just a bit of fun.
(INTP, for the record.)
Yesterday, in a council Executive meeting considering a report by the Audit Commission on the council’s performance, one of the Labour councillors responding made a reference to engine rooms and Scotty. In other words, I think, much of what the Audit Commission was talking about was relevant only to a few people in the council whose job it is to keep the council moving financially, rather than the more public-facing parts of the council.
I took the Star Trek references to heart, and made a little out of including some in my response. I got in “make it so,” “transporter room,” and “the engines cannae take it, Captain” just in my remarks on the Annual Letter. Later, I made some reference to going boldly, and was faced with split-infinitive pedantry.
It wasn’t just me. Once we’d got going, a Labour councillor responded that clearly Lib Dem voters were “Life, but not as we know it,” and another who confessed to not knowing much about Trek thought that anyone who didn’t agree with him must be “Lost in Space.”
It was a very long meeting.
I’d already got a lot out of the Dunfermline by-election — nice people, a stellar candidate, totty, as mentioned previously.
But a win as well? 16% swing against Labour in their heartland? Winning the seat the Chancellor lives in? Wiping the silly grin off the shiny new Tory leader’s face by proving we can thrash them in a by-election when we don’t even have a leader and we’ve spent the campaign suffering erm, unfortunate, publicity?
Plus shedloads of cash on my bet?
Priceless!
Note to self: if driving to Scotland again, do so in daylight for spectular countryside most of the way. Almost 7 hours to drive home. Somehow, despite leaving Scotland (north of Nottingham) GPS managed to route me so that I arrived in Nottingham from the South. Cumbria is full of speedcameras. One on every bridge, mobile vans. Must keep a careful eye on the post.
Ballot papers have arrived for leadership election. Bumped into both Huhne and Campbell during the campaign, both of them desparately trying to be leaderly and wander around the HQ inspiring activists. I was actually staying in Campbell’s constituency.
Very tired now. My eyelid is spasming and I can hardly keep awake. But there are results to wait for and a leadership hustings.
Have driven nearly 1,000 miles including ferrying leafleters around for practically every waking moment in the last few days. Probably 100 quid in petrol. And why? Of course there’s the fillip of helping do my bit for the party. But mostly it’s the people. Loads of totty, some elected totty, and this time, tons of Scotty totty. Loads of people like me, only nicer, brighter, and harder-working. A chance to oil the network wheels, and find out what jobs are going. Lots of bright young things in new jobs who got there by turning up at by-elections. Loads of American interns who were all slightly shell-shocked, hadn’t banked on seeing Scotland at all during their stay, and were mostly livid that KFC UK doesn’t have ‘biscuits’.
Starving and CBA to cook. Feet in a seriously bad way. Ringing tour of Nottingham this weekend to put final touches to.
zzzzzzzzzz
Wake me for the results. If we win, betfair.com gives me my petrol money back and a little over.
Note to self: if driving to Scotland again, do so in daylight for spectular countryside most of the way. Almost 7 hours to drive home. Somehow, despite leaving Scotland (north of Nottingham) GPS managed to route me so that I arrived in Nottingham from the South. Cumbria is full of speedcameras. One on every bridge, mobile vans. Must keep a careful eye on the post.
Ballot papers have arrived for leadership election. Bumped into both Huhne and Campbell during the campaign, both of them desparately trying to be leaderly and wander around the HQ inspiring activists. I was actually staying in Campbell’s constituency.
Very tired now. My eyelid is spasming and I can hardly keep awake. But there are results to wait for and a leadership hustings.
Have driven nearly 1,000 miles including ferrying leafleters around for practically every waking moment in the last few days. Probably 100 quid in petrol. And why? Of course there’s the fillip of helping do my bit for the party. But mostly it’s the people. Loads of totty, some elected totty, and this time, tons of Scotty totty. Loads of people like me, only nicer, brighter, and harder-working. A chance to oil the network wheels, and find out what jobs are going. Lots of bright young things in new jobs who got there by turning up at by-elections. Loads of American interns who were all slightly shell-shocked, hadn’t banked on seeing Scotland at all during their stay, and were mostly livid that KFC UK doesn’t have ‘biscuits’.
Starving and CBA to cook. Feet in a seriously bad way. Ringing tour of Nottingham this weekend to put final touches to.
zzzzzzzzzz
Wake me for the results. If we win, betfair.com gives me my petrol money back and a little over.
You know how bad the weather is — what with all those wheelie bins — and yet, even now at 8pm, and despite the “dreach”, the HQ is practically empty. Everyone’s still pounding the streets with the last of today’s leaflets.
There’s a real buzz here, and it’s a buzz I recognise from previous winning by-election campaigns. That feeling that everyone who’s here is getting ready to spend the next few days busting their guts to get oor Willie in.
So, if you can, come and join in. If you can’t, you can do phone-canvassing by getting touch with Sarah Morris at Lib Dem HQ.
And if you’re canny you can place a wee bet on the Lib Dems romping home. It’s the only reason I’m blogging — I’ve snuck upstairs to plug my laptop into the network so that I can put ma money where ma mouth is.
The other Scots word I learned last night was “fouter” — I thought for a minute it was the very rude French word “foutre” when I read it upside on a coaster. “Fouter” means prevaricate.
Well, we’re not foutering about in Lib Dem HQ in Dunfermline!
You know how bad the weather is — what with all those wheelie bins — and yet, even now at 8pm, and despite the “dreach”, the HQ is practically empty. Everyone’s still pounding the streets with the last of today’s leaflets.
There’s a real buzz here, and it’s a buzz I recognise from previous winning by-election campaigns. That feeling that everyone who’s here is getting ready to spend the next few days busting their guts to get oor Willie in.
So, if you can, come and join in. If you can’t, you can do phone-canvassing by getting touch with Sarah Morris at Lib Dem HQ.
And if you’re canny you can place a wee bet on the Lib Dems romping home. It’s the only reason I’m blogging — I’ve snuck upstairs to plug my laptop into the network so that I can put ma money where ma mouth is.
The other Scots word I learned last night was “fouter” — I thought for a minute it was the very rude French word “foutre” when I read it upside on a coaster. “Fouter” means prevaricate.
Well, we’re not foutering about in Lib Dem HQ in Dunfermline!
The weather’s *that* good!
Second day and my leaflet-carrying muscles and my stair-climbing muscles are still aching from yesterday. My feet are blistered. All a sign I don’t work hard enough at home, I fear.
Billetted with a lovely couple in a village called Strathmiglo about 20 miles away from HQ, through what was probably lovely countryside if it hadn’t been dark.
Today’s work is delivering target letters. Sat Nav has been such an amazing help in finding tiny remote villages. And also in finding tiny unmarked streets in big villages.
Weather not so good today. My host taught me a good scots word to describe it, which I have now forgotten.
Tenuous link to cat I saw at first floor window. On my mobile, it’s easier to photoblog through Flickr than to normal blog.
Got into Lib Dem HQ after a speedy, pricey and unimpressive Continental breakfast (no scope for a big plate), and before the start of Woman’s Hour, I was back out of the car delivering Dunfermline’s own Wisteria Lane. New houses of the upper end of the Barrat variety, some of which were huge! Three storeys, at least four bedrooms facing the street and probably more over the garden. Balconies, appliances in the garages, sheds with verandas, gorgeous gardens, including one with a Scottish cross in snowdrops across the front lawn.
The leaflet is an 8 page glossy woman’s-magazine-alike, called That’s Fife (groan) with cartoons, a column by Clare Raynor, photo-diaries, etc.
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