Category: GENERAL

15 March 2024

As an experience this one is probably second to none. The grandeur and importance of the setting, and the quality of the presentation were all breathtaking. I was almost overwhelmed by the amount of information to take on board, and parts of the tour even evoked an emotional response from me.

What am I talking about? A trip to the Houses of Parliament. Everybody should go. It should be mandatory. And throughout we were told that being shown all this isn’t a privilege, it’s our democratic right. Well, it may be what we’re due but it certainly felt like a privilege to me.

It’s relatively easy to get on a tour. Write to your MP and ask if you can visit. He or she will get their parliamentary secretary to arrange it for you. If there is any choice in the matter, arrange an early timeslot because if either house is sitting then you are not going to be allowed inside the chamber. I went on a Tuesday morning at 9am. As the first group through we were not going to be denied access, and would have fewer people to jostle with. Going that early meant that I stayed overnight in a hotel, but since I was in London for other reasons too, that didn’t seem too onerous.

You have to be on-site well before your tour, however, because there is airport-style security to get through before you get anywhere near the Palace of Westminster. For me, it was a rainy day too, which slows everything down as you struggle with wet weather gear and umbrellas.

The tour starts in Westminster Hall, an enormous empty stone-clad space. It was built in 1022 so it has seen a lot in its time. At places on the floor there are brass plaques to commemorate famous events which occurred just there. The lying-in of state for Queen Elizabeth II for five days, and for her mother and father before her. Winston Churchill too; odd for a commoner. The spot where Charles I was convicted of treason and executed. Quite a lot going on for an empty room.

We had a rather impressive tour guide. A lady of diminutive stature but a perfect diction, and an impeccable understanding of British history and parliamentary habit. About twenty of us wore headsets and listened as she delivered her commentary to a microphone, on the hoof. Such equipment looked like overkill with so few groups around, but it became clear later on that groups can tend to overtake each other and it’s important to stick with, and be able to hear, your guide.

At the top of the stone stairs at the far end of the hall is the last time we can take photographs as we turn into St Stephen’s Hall. A statue-lined hall where the earliest parliamentarians sat opposite each other and debated. The designs of both Houses of Parliament pay homage to this original design by arranging the benches to face each other confrontationally. One of the statues here, depicting a Lord Falkland whose importance would otherwise have been forgotten, is now famous because suffragette Margaret Humes chained herself to it in 1909. In removing her from it, the statue lost one of its spurs; damage which has never been repaired as a memento of the event. It’s all a reminder of how our democracy in its current form is still in its infancy. Both men and women have been able to vote only since 1928. The minimum voting age was reduced from 21 to 18 in 1969.

Just beyond St Stephen’s Hall is the Central lobby, a circular space in the middle of the building. It’s where people can, in theory, lobby their MP. I recognize it as the space where MPs are interviewed on TV after some important vote or other in the house. To our left is the entrance to the House of Commons, to our right the House of Lords.

Straight ahead is the Members’ Lobby where MPs can pick up messages from pigeon holes, though nowadays messages are more likely to be emailed or WhatsApped. It’s also where they pick up the voting papers for the day, which detail what is going to be debated in the chamber, and copies of Hansard which provides verbatim coverage of the previous day’s debates. All this under the watchful gaze of giant statues of David Lloyd George, Winston Churchill, Clement Attlee and Margaret Thatcher.

The tour continues through the No Gallery. If the vote on a debate is close then the division bell may ring and MPs make their way to the Aye Gallery if in favour, or the No Gallery if not. These galleries are on either side of the House of Commons chamber. It is assumed that MPs can get to the appropriate gallery when summoned within eight minutes, no matter where they are on the Palace of Westminster estate. Once in the gallery their heads are counted; the very origin of taking a poll.

The chamber of the House of commons is remarkable for at least two reasons. You’ve seen it on TV, but in reality it seems much smaller. It’s not small of course; in theory, well over 600 people could be in there. Microphones and cameras are positioned everywhere. We could stand between the famous green leather-covered benches, but not sit on them. On the front benches sit the Prime Minister and his Cabinet, and the rest of the MPs are back-benchers. This is mirrored on the opposition side of the house. On the central Parliamentary Table are the famous Dispatch Boxes and the holders for the Mace, which represents the Monarch in the chamber. The Monarch, of course, is not welcome in the chamber – ever since Charles I and the civil war – and that’s why he has to be preceded by Black Rod who has the chamber door ceremonially slammed in his face, and has to knock with his ebony rod in order to gain admittance. The door is now showing signs of wear and tear due to this treatment.

I was struck by the contrasts between the very old and the very new. The place seems, on the face of it, to be biased towards leather-topped tables and piles of paper. Yet the central table in front of the Speaker’s Chair has tiny data screens in its many recesses. In fact, there are screens everywhere – there must be a massive IT operation going on in the background.

Although I found myself getting emotional about the seat of democracy, the reality of the situation is that people are told how to vote. MPs are expected to vote with their political party, and are constantly being ‘whipped’. Rarely are they allowed to vote with their conscience, or at the behest of their constituency. If the matter is an important one, or close-run, then the Whips Office will underline the voting orders. The most important matters are marked by three underlines – a so-called Three-line Whip. Failure to vote in the expected way could result in expulsion from the party.

We moved over to the House of Lords. Architecturally it is very similar to the Commons except that the leather benches are in red. There are more of them too, since there are over 700 lords. Tony Blair introduced a cap of 92 on hereditary peers, people who pass their peerage down to their children. Most people are life peers; when they die, their peerage dies with them. Some life peers are created by political parties, other people are rewarded for their good works in normal life, or for special knowledge or experience they have acquired. There are 26 Lords Spiritual – the bishops – and the far end of the Lords chamber contains an ornate gold-covered throne. The monarch is welcome in the House of Lords. The Lords Speaker sits on a great red ‘wool sack’. Like the Commons chamber the Lords sit facing each other, one side with the government and the other in opposition. But unlike the Commons, the Lords chamber has a series of central benches to house lords without any political affiliation – the so-called cross benchers.

I’ll say it again. I was both affected and excited by all of this. Here was the machinery of our government, surrounded by artefacts from the history of our nation over the last millennium. Going there, seeing all this, and having it explained to you is certainly a privilege, but it is also your right.

I’m planning to return, to sit in the Strangers Gallery above the chamber of the Commons and watch a debate going on. No need to book for that; you can simply turn up on the day. There is a ballot to do this on a Wednesday when it is Prime Minister’s Question Time. It is also possible to turn up unannounced to watch proceedings in Select Committees.

Just off Westminster Hall is a café where you can sit and chat. It sounds like many MPs do just that. The coffee and pastries are lovely. And there is a gift shop full of expensive yet tawdry tat – just to bring you down to earth again before facing the rain outside.

14 March 2024

I wrote a blog a couple of years ago during the great pandemic, which lamented the fact that I’d been issued with an Oxfordshire bus pass, but there was nowhere to go. Since that time, Ann and I have made enormous use of these passes and employ them all the time, even basing a holiday on the Isle of Wight on the knowledge that we could stay centrally in Newport and travel out each day on the buses.

The benefits are two-fold. One is obvious, that the tickets are free. You can make a mistake and it costs you nothing (but time). But, for me, the more important benefit is that I don’t have to tell the driver where I’m going. Often I don’t know.

A recent overnight stay in London where we visited the Houses of Parliament, and the Imperial War Museum for some family history work, saw us travelling on London buses the whole time. The Tube is a rather expensive alternative and, yes, we are simply cheapskates. But from a London omnibus you can see where you’re going, and which famous landmarks you’re passing. That we’ve never done this before is because you’d have to know where your destination is, and get off at the right time. We’ve just been too frightened even to try.

Google Maps is what makes the difference. It know where you are now, and you simply type in the name of where you’re going, and tell it that you’re going by bus. It then tells you where the bus stop is, what number bus to catch, when the next bus is due, and how many stops to stay on the bus for. In short, it turns you into a Londoner.

Oxfordshire bus passes will not work on London buses, but they are valid. This seems to be because London buses are set up to take Oyster cards – you just can’t tap on with your bus pass. However, the driver is perfectly happy for you to wave your bus pass at him as you climb on-board.

All this happy and payment-free travel made us rather blasé and caused us some delay in the end. On the way back to Paddington Station we forgot to check Google Maps and sailed on by without noticing. We had to retrace our steps on a return bus only to find that we’d missed the last off-peak train back to Didcot. Ann and I had to console ourselves by having an evening meal in a nearby pub with a pint of beer, but it meant that we didn’t get back home until 9.30pm – what with the bus ride from Didcot to Wantage.

And so to today. I had to go for a hospital appointment at the John Radcliffe in Oxford. We drove to the nearest of Oxford’s park & rides, and left the car there for £2. Then we thought we’d catch the X3 bus to the hospital. It was 10.45am and the appointment was at 11.30am. Perfect.

Then Google Maps told us that an X32 was just about to arrive, and this would also go to the hospital. It was running late. Nevertheless, it showed up almost immediately and we jumped on. The problem was that it went in the wrong direction and took us half the way home again. We’d caught the bus going the opposite way – bamboozled by the fact that all buses face the same way at the park & ride bus station. This was a disaster. I needed to be at a hospital appointment in forty minutes time and here we were hurtling away from Oxford on an express bus. It was a head-in-hands moment. The first stop was on the outskirts of Didcot – miles away. But, by some miracle the next X32 heading in the right direction, also running late, was passing on the other side of the road and we jumped on. Queue the comedy chase music.

Unbelievably, having done something so stupid, and so consequential, I was only late for my appointment by eight minutes. Hurrah for the buses. But we’re making a mental note: even though it’s not necessary to tell the driver where you’re going, just ask him as you get on if he’s going anywhere near where you think you need to be.

22/01/2021

Life is full of milestones, some of them more welcome than others. The most recent for me tidies up a faint timing niggle. Did I retire too soon?

Actually, the answer is “no”. I think COVID is the main reason for thinking this. I can’t fully imagine how difficult it must be to try to hold down a responsible job whilst dealing with the joint demands of employers who want you in the office, and a government which wants you at home. I think of this once a month when the government chap comes to my door as part of the ONS survey, and hands me a COVID test kit. One of the standard questions, asked at each visit, is “What is your employment status?” I reply “Retired” and the appropriate box is ticked, but internally I’m screaming “… and can you put in the comments box that I don’t have to be retired, I just choose to be.”

But now I’ve reached the appropriate age and the government has smiled its approval by turning on the state pension tap. I no longer feel the need to explain my retirement. But there is also an outwardly visible sign of this acknowledgement, something I could wave about as a badge, a symbol of my status.

My wife, Ann, is 32 days older than me and she applied for her bus pass slightly before her birthday; I applied slightly after mine. Of course, we had Christmas, and the COVID-ravaged postal service, and BREXIT, so I don’t know why we were surprised that we should have to wait a while. In fact, we waited for ages, and then two came together. How appropriate!

We have magnificent plans for our bus passes. We can take a bus out to one of the local villages and then walk home with a picnic. We can go into Oxford, perhaps taking in a lunchtime concert or one of the museums. We could even contemplate building a holiday around Land’s End to John O’ Groats on local buses (actually quite a tedious thought). And when we’re truly old enough, we can catch a bus into town clutching a plastic carrier bag for our miniscule bit of shopping.  But as we watch the empty buses passing us each day, we realise that none of this is actually possible at the moment. It’s still a pipe dream. All dressed up and nowhere to go.

04/03/2024

I suppose it’s only fair to give an update on the bus pass – one of my most treasured possessions. We use our passes a great deal – even basing a holiday on the Isle of Wight on the use of public transport from our central location in Newport. For me, there are two great advantages to having one of these passes. One is that all journeys are free. That’s a great advantage. But also, I don’t have to tell the driver where I’m going when I get on.

Often I don’t know.

31/01/2020

It’s Friday, January 31st 2020. I happen to be in Portugal and have just eaten my last croissant (while Britain remains within the European family). Lovely, delicious, buttery croissants people – it’s Eccles cakes for us from now on.

Well, of course it isn’t, but it does feel that we’ve lost something. The man on the radio was trying to get Steve Baker, the former Brexit minister, to comfort us with news about how much better things will be for the country. But, of course, there’s not much to say right now. Nobody really knows how it’s going to pan out.

The Government is determined that celebrations will be muted, so as not to be triumphalist. This is fair enough, but it’s a step too far to suggest that as a consequence we’re now a happy little family again. Even though nobody declares themselves to be Brexiteers or Remainers these days, my suspicion is that people still fall into the camps they aligned themselves with in 2016. Previous remainers, although now homeless, are unlikely to be impressed by Prime Minister Johnson’s view that since nothing can now deflect the project, they should simply suck it up.

Well, of course, I am sucking it up.  And I have a vested interest, like everybody else, in the country doing at least tolerably well post-Brexit. The last thing I want is to feel justified in saying “I told you so”.

But by the same token I’m faintly disgruntled at being told to cheer up.

Ann and I bumped into an old friend last week, who told us that she is having a Brexit party tonight. When she saw the look on our faces, she quickly pointed out that it wasn’t a celebration, it’s to be a wake. They’ll eat food and drink wines from a variety of former colleague nations and maybe listen to some European music or sing an appropriate song.

I was touched by news of the European Parliament, after ratifying Britain’s withdrawal agreement this week, singing ‘Auld Lang Syne’.

Am I bitter? No.  Am I disappointed? Yes.  Let’s just all pray that all the theories are correct, and this all turns out happily.