Next month I will be going along to a reunion with some old friends and acquaintances from Worple Road Primary School at an Isleworth pub (the reunion is at the pub, not the school). I am really looking forward to it.
Most of those who will be attending weren't in the same year as me, and I probably didn't spend a great deal of time in their immediate company even when I was at school. Nevertheless there is something about the distant past, almost like a gravitation pull of some indescribable kind, which draws me to places and people with whom I spent my formulative years. It's like when I made certain fateful decisions towards the end of the 1970s which were to take me along an erroneous and destructive path for such a very long time a part of me stubbornly refused to join me on this hellish adventure, opting instead to sit back and wait for me to make a safe return to the sanity and security of my childhood days when I had compassion in my heart and the tuneful ditties of the day in my mind and in my soul.
It was one of those friends (who was in my class) who remarked on Facebook recently that there is something uniquely special about the friends we grew up with, and that is so true. As children we see things differently - colours are more vivid, shapes and textures more pronounced. We also "learn" things together which the adult world takes for granted. Innocent things have their own importance and the absence of the cares and concerns of adulthood help us to truly absorb the beauty of all that is around us.
There is a lump in my throat as I write this, so pleasantly unsettled am I by the thought of this impending coming together late in November.
I attended reunions from Isleworth Grammar School in 2001 and Worple Road again in 2002 and they were fantastic and memorable events, but there is something about this one which promises even more. Maybe it is the urgency of the situation that we all feel as we race relentlessly through our fifties. Let's face it, some of our number are now almost within touching distance of retirement!
The only thing that compares with it for me was a series of reunions that I enjoyed with some old friends from my Church youth club back in 1990/91. The down side of those - even those, in the company of my dearest and most treasured friends from the most unique and wonderful period of my life - was the feeling of raw emptiness they left in their wake when the evening was over and everybody had gone their separate ways. We coped with this only by organising repeat reunions, each with less novelty appeal than the last, until one day we all simultaneously kind of dropped the idea.
I don't think that will happen this time. We are a spiritual diaspora, spread around the UK and even the world. We cannot get together every month or two on a whim, even if we wanted to. But neither, I hope, will we leave it another twelve years.
Showing posts with label Isleworth Congregational Church. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Isleworth Congregational Church. Show all posts
Sunday, 12 October 2014
Monday, 25 August 2014
On Taking My First Church Service
This evening I did something that I've never done before and which I have been dreading all week. I took a service at my local Church, the Isleworth Congregational.
A few weeks ago our long-serving Pastor the Revd. Antony W. Ball retired after forty years of thorough, loyal and dedicated service to our Church. As our Pastor it was always a pleasure to listen to Antony whenever he was in the pulpit. The scholarly, logical and analytical way in which he dissected the texts always captured my attention and even on my tiredest days my concentration seldom drifted. We have had some excellent visiting preachers, but speaking personally Antony's sermons were always the ones I gained the most from.
Fortunately although he has stepped down from the post to take well-deserved retirement he has assured us that he is happy to continue to preach to us, as well of course as serving still as a Church member. For this we will be eternally grateful (npi), because he is in my view irreplaceable.
Whilst I am under no illusions about my own abilities as a "preacher", I stepped into the breach tonight as I and all of my fellow Deacons attempt to fill the massive void created while he spends a few weeks away from the Church. Although I have spoken at many a political and public meeting, to audiences of up to 3000 in number, giving a sermon in a Church is so thoroughly different that it is reasonable to consider tonight as having been "my first time". I was very nervous.
I spoke (rather than preached, I guess) about the logic of Christianity and the way in which the laws given to us by God are for our own benefit and for that of wider society rather than being arbitrary or gratuitous. It was in essence a justification from a Christian perspective of the principles that guided me throughout my time as a community activist.
In numbers terms it was a modest audience, but those who were there seemed to think I did okay. Ideally I should have spoken for longer as the service finished about ten minutes earlier than usual. If there is a next time, I will know better.
Sunday, 14 October 2012
Why?
It's okay, relax. You know that I am a Christian and that I go to church, but I am no theologian and neither am I anything like good enough as a person to even begin to presume to sit in judgement upon others.
But whether you are a Christian, a follower of another religion or indeed of none, it is evident to most people that there are teachings contained in the Holy Book that serve as a useful guide to us in the conduct of our everyday lives. The above quote, delivered to us at our Church this morning by the Revd. John Kafwanka (an Isleworthian!) set me thinking about why it was that, nearly nineteen years ago, I helped found the ICG (then known as the Isleworth Community Group) and why now, in 2012, I continue to give it my support.
Let me approach where I am going from a slightly more contemporary angle. I don't think this will be the first time on this blog that I will have quoted the chorus of the rock epic 2112:
Our great computers fill Our hallowed halls
We are the Priests of the Temples of Syrinx
All the gifts of life are held within Our walls".
For the disciples, they were the few who had been chosen from amongst the many to answer a special calling, and it must have been galling for them that somebody who was not one of their number was performing successful healing work in the name of Jesus. So they tried to stop him, without any thought of course for the beneficiary of the stranger's good deed.
In the fictitious 2112 the Priests of the Temples of Syrinx were the custodians of all knowledge and happiness, having defeated the Elder Race in a battle for control of the Planets of the Solar Federation. When the boy found the guitar by the waterfall and presented it to them they crushed it nervously underfoot, for it was a relic of a bygone age which had not been under their dominion.
Seasoned local community watchers will know where this article is heading. Whether it is the St. John's residents and their successful campaign to save their community centre, or the organisers of the Brentford Festival, or for that matter the ICG and its many works on behalf of the community of which it is an integral part, any positive acts which have been brought about independently by the community (I believe they call us "plebs") must either be denied or destroyed.
I have reflected recently upon how this mentality continues to prevail in the highest echelons of the local authority in Hounslow. Those who trouble to browse Facebook or the local community forums will have seen how those of us who consider it our mission to empower the grass roots have continued to be abused and vilified, even in our attempted "post political" incarnation.
Demonstrably it is not because we stand, but because of what we stand for.
Sunday, 30 September 2012
That'll Be The Day
I have just had my first opportunity to see my old mate and fellow Congregationalist Nick Buss' recent performance on X-Factor, where he sadly didn't manage to progress in spite of having won the support of panelist Louis Walsh. He didn't seem very pleased with the verdict.
Nick is proud of his Buddy Holly tributes and he performs them at a lot of talent shows. I'm not sure whether he has actually won any, but he is a determined man.
Here he performs the 1957 hit Maybe Baby. I make no judgement, but the guy has got more guts than I have.
Wednesday, 12 September 2012
Get Well Soon Tony
I had been quite looking forward to going. In my less serious moments it has occurred to me that my sister might be trying to recruit me to the Labour Party, at least as a follower or voter. Personally I don't think I could have anything but contempt for a party that could marginalise a man of the calibre of Tony Benn whilst choosing Tony Blair as its Leader.
As well as his own qualities as a principled politician, there is another connection that draws me to Tony Benn. His mother, Margaret Wedgwood Benn, was one of the founders of the Congregational Federation, to which my own Church is affiliated, and served as its first President. Her son claims she taught him to support the prophets and not the kings, a wonderful piece of advice for everybody to heed in my book.
Sadly it would appear that Mr. Benn has had a fall, and the event has had to be cancelled. At the age of 86 caution has to be the order of the day, and this unfortunate occurrence reminds us that even high-profile "celebs" face the same inconveniences and pitfalls in life that befall the rest of us.
I hope Tony Benn makes a full and speedy recovery, and I wish him all the very best.
Friday, 26 November 2010
A privilege and an honour
I was humbled one again on Wednesday night to have been re-elected by members of my Church to serve for another year as a Deacon.
A cynic could argue that it isn't difficult to win the support of the required two-thirds of the membership at a meeting when everyone has an unlimited number of votes. But that threshold has been missed by others before now and, more importantly, members could and would have been forgiven for rejecting me on the grounds that for a variety of reasons (Joe's football, work, community commitments) my attendance at Church services and other functions has not been as good as that of some others.
It is a source of real comfort and gratitude to know that, in spite of my shortcomings, my fellow Church members have sufficient faith in whatever it is I do to want me to serve them for another twelve months and I will do my very best not to let them down.
A cynic could argue that it isn't difficult to win the support of the required two-thirds of the membership at a meeting when everyone has an unlimited number of votes. But that threshold has been missed by others before now and, more importantly, members could and would have been forgiven for rejecting me on the grounds that for a variety of reasons (Joe's football, work, community commitments) my attendance at Church services and other functions has not been as good as that of some others.
It is a source of real comfort and gratitude to know that, in spite of my shortcomings, my fellow Church members have sufficient faith in whatever it is I do to want me to serve them for another twelve months and I will do my very best not to let them down.
Monday, 2 August 2010
Dr. Who Fun Day on Worton - Community Spirit Alive and Well
It was at 12.10 this afternoon when I rolled up at the ROWE Community Centre on Isleworth's Worton estate, straight from Church. Usually ten minutes after the start of an event like this little would be going on beyond a few late arrivals hastily setting up their stalls.
And yet the ROWE Fun Day, with its Doctor Who theme, was already in full swing, with many kids outside enjoying the rides and others having their photos taken inside the Community Centre. Teas, coffees, cold drinks and hot dogs were being sold and members of the Committee were walking around the site selling raffle tickets (I was later to win a meal for two but I can assure everyone it was kosher - I'd left by the time the raffle was drawn!).
MC Andrews announces the raffle______________________________
ICG Committee members Tricia Doran and Cheryl-Ann Khan had set up a stall selling clothes, a tombola and a "prize every time" duck-fishing thing. Another few quid for the group's coffers, always welcome.
Back inside the building I made a new friend (photo to follow as soon as my daughter gets time to show me how to transfer it across).
Even cybermen were welcome at the event______________________________
Organising a vibrant residents' organisation has always been something of a challenge for the Committee of ROWE (Residents of Worton Estate). There have always been good people there to do the work, but usually just enough of them to achieve critical mass. However, possibly as a defensive reaction to the local political situation, ROWE seems to becoming more proactive and determined than ever before. The dozen or so people who were circulating around the event selling raffle tickets, providing food and drinks and generally marshaling events worked hard, and the very reasonable turnout was just reward for their efforts.
One of the many stalls at the Fun Day ________________________________________
Although I don't actually live on Worton I have a long historical association with the estate. My father was raised in Octavia Road, opposite the Green, and my aunt, uncle and cousins lived there until the middle of the 1990s. As a teenager I would encounter many of the youths from the estate, not always on friendly terms, at the youth club that was held every Monday night in the Hall at Isleworth Congregational, which I now once again attend.
Great food and drinks were on sale in the Community Centre________________________________________
I feel honoured to have been asked to continue my association with ROWE after ceasing to be a ward councillor in May, and was pleased to have the opportunity to help out around the place today.
Events like this reassure me that the spirit of the community in Isleworth will survive whatever short-term challenges are thrown our way.
Sunday, 23 May 2010
Defying the nature of things?
Along the short walk home from Church a couple of hours ago I happened upon Jim, a member of our congregation who for whatever reason had been elsewhere this morning. We spoke about the weather, Jim's new suit...and the recent local election.
Jim is an affable, seventy-something West African chap who resides on Isleworth's Ivybridge estate. He was concerned about the fact that the ICG had lost its seats and that Labour councillors had been returned to office. "I voted for you all," he promised me. "I always do".
I see no reason to disbelieve Jim. What struck me was his eagerness to reassure me. It is something that I've encountered from many, many people during the last fortnight, this almost indecent haste on the part of local people to reassert their faith and support in the community movement.
For whatever reason I found myself pondering the words of the late Alan Clark, when describing the moment in late 1990 when power within the Conservative Party was first perceived to have shifted from Margaret Thatcher to John Major: "All too soon, though, Sir Tim Bell noticed that the crowd around her thinned, as people left her side and gravitated to Major. Truly recognition of the transfer of power is, at the epicentre of its vortex, instantaneous."
I confess that, whilst it would not have been quite instantaneous, I have been expecting for the last two weeks to witness the manifestation of at least some degree of fair-weather friendship. Of people who had professed their loyalty through perceived personal interest taking advantage of the changed situation to raise two fingers and tell us, or at least me, "I never liked you anyway".
That, surely, is the nature of things?
Not only has this not happened, but it is as though the mood amongst local people is to disassociate themselves, as swiftly and as unambiguously as possible, from the actions of The Invisible Ones, that mysterious but substantial group of people who don't involve themselves in community activities, shop at Tesco, drink in pubs, stand at bus stops nor even answer their doors to canvassers but who nevertheless emerge from the undergrowth and brave the daylight once every four or five years to cast their votes for Labour at general elections.
It is very reassuring to know that, amongst "real" people, the feeling is very much one of business as usual.
Jim is an affable, seventy-something West African chap who resides on Isleworth's Ivybridge estate. He was concerned about the fact that the ICG had lost its seats and that Labour councillors had been returned to office. "I voted for you all," he promised me. "I always do".
I see no reason to disbelieve Jim. What struck me was his eagerness to reassure me. It is something that I've encountered from many, many people during the last fortnight, this almost indecent haste on the part of local people to reassert their faith and support in the community movement.
For whatever reason I found myself pondering the words of the late Alan Clark, when describing the moment in late 1990 when power within the Conservative Party was first perceived to have shifted from Margaret Thatcher to John Major: "All too soon, though, Sir Tim Bell noticed that the crowd around her thinned, as people left her side and gravitated to Major. Truly recognition of the transfer of power is, at the epicentre of its vortex, instantaneous."
I confess that, whilst it would not have been quite instantaneous, I have been expecting for the last two weeks to witness the manifestation of at least some degree of fair-weather friendship. Of people who had professed their loyalty through perceived personal interest taking advantage of the changed situation to raise two fingers and tell us, or at least me, "I never liked you anyway".
That, surely, is the nature of things?
Not only has this not happened, but it is as though the mood amongst local people is to disassociate themselves, as swiftly and as unambiguously as possible, from the actions of The Invisible Ones, that mysterious but substantial group of people who don't involve themselves in community activities, shop at Tesco, drink in pubs, stand at bus stops nor even answer their doors to canvassers but who nevertheless emerge from the undergrowth and brave the daylight once every four or five years to cast their votes for Labour at general elections.
It is very reassuring to know that, amongst "real" people, the feeling is very much one of business as usual.
Sunday, 4 October 2009
The Revd. Dr. Edgar Dowse
I was saddened this morning to learn of the death of the Revd. Dr. Edgar Dowse (right), a regular preacher at my Church, at the age of 99.Dr. Dowse was an amazing fellow. The depth of his theological knowledge was astounding, and despite having long retired from vicarial duties at his own (Anglican) Church he would preach every month to our congregation right up until very recently. Although it had become increasingly obvious that his physical strength was failing, mentally he remained as sharp as ever and each sermon was delivered with as much passion and gusto as the last.
His Anglican background notwithstanding, Dr. Dowse was always comfortable at our (Nonconformist) Church. He always made it clear that he would preach "wherever I am invited".
In 2004, at the young age of 93, he entered the Guinness Book of Records after having become the oldest person in the world to gain a PhD. It was his seventh degree. When I asked him why he had done it he joked that it would be "good for my career".
Dr. Dowse lived in College Road, Isleworth, almost directly opposite the house of my birth. His interests were trains, and reading Hebrew, Aramaic and Greek.
Sunday, 26 April 2009
Christians Together in Isleworth - a blueprint for Cohesion?
Caroline and I attended a nice service at St. Bridget's Catholic Church this afternoon organised under the auspices of Isleworth Christians (Churches Together in Isleworth).
It was headlined "A United Service of Thanksgiving", and was held to celebrate the 160th anniversary of the building of Isleworth Congregational Church, 40 years since the rebuilding of All Saints Church and 100 years since the building of Our Lady Of Sorrows & St. Bridget Of Sweden (to give it its full name).
Our Pastor, the Revd. Antony Ball, gave a typically inspiring sermon, contrasting the spirit of unity which exists between the various Christian denominations in the village today with the animosity which probably prevailed at the time of the respective Churches coming into being. He joked about Congregationalists rarely agreeing with other Christians and rarely agreeing with each other, but this light-hearted exercise in self-effacement actually conceals what I perceive to be the strength of the Congregational Church - its democratic ethos and the fact that it is run by the members. Indeed Congregationalism is not in itself a brand of theology, but rather a method of government. I like to think of the Congregational Church as the ICG of the Christian world!
Whatever the respective merits of the various denominations, what is significant about Isleworth Christians is that its strength and success lies in well-meaning people agreeing in good faith to be different together, in a way that recognises and respects the much more important things that we all have in common.
Anyone see where I'm going with this?
It was headlined "A United Service of Thanksgiving", and was held to celebrate the 160th anniversary of the building of Isleworth Congregational Church, 40 years since the rebuilding of All Saints Church and 100 years since the building of Our Lady Of Sorrows & St. Bridget Of Sweden (to give it its full name).
Our Pastor, the Revd. Antony Ball, gave a typically inspiring sermon, contrasting the spirit of unity which exists between the various Christian denominations in the village today with the animosity which probably prevailed at the time of the respective Churches coming into being. He joked about Congregationalists rarely agreeing with other Christians and rarely agreeing with each other, but this light-hearted exercise in self-effacement actually conceals what I perceive to be the strength of the Congregational Church - its democratic ethos and the fact that it is run by the members. Indeed Congregationalism is not in itself a brand of theology, but rather a method of government. I like to think of the Congregational Church as the ICG of the Christian world!
Whatever the respective merits of the various denominations, what is significant about Isleworth Christians is that its strength and success lies in well-meaning people agreeing in good faith to be different together, in a way that recognises and respects the much more important things that we all have in common.
Anyone see where I'm going with this?
Sunday, 24 August 2008
Musings and ramblings on a Sunday afternoon
Most Sunday mornings I go to Isleworth Congregational Church, where for several years I have had the honour of serving as a Deacon.
I tend not to preach about my religious convictions. Whilst I may have carved a niche of sorts in the world of local politics, my theological grounding is limited to say the least. My commitment to my Church, such as it is, derives from instinct rather than scientific analysis. I think that is why they call it faith.
Without wishing to imply any disrespect to those good men and women who give up their Sunday mornings to come along and preach, I do on occasions find my thoughts wandering onto other matters - sometimes inspired, it has to be said, by something the preacher has said.
This morning I found myself reflecting on my activities of the past couple of weeks. In short, I have been using the political "quiet season" as a window of opportunity for trying to earn a crust.
When I first became a councillor, back in 1998, a councillor's annual allowance was in the region of £1,400. There was no question that this was just what it said on the tin - an allowance - and not a salary.
That allowance has since grown in increments to a little under £10,000, proportionately a massive increase but still not in itself a salary. Interestingly, these incremental increases all took place under the previous New Labour administration, who supported pay increases in office but oppose them in opposition.
With the introduction by the New Labour government of the new Executive or Cabinet system, a goodly proportion of the workload which used to be spread more evenly now falls upon the shoulders of a small handful of councillors. Acting upon government guidance the previous New Labour administration, which oversaw the introduction of this system in Hounslow, drastically ramped up the allowances available to Executive councillors (a hike which, again, they claim to be against now that they are in opposition and no longer benefit from it). The current administration took this one step further earlier this year and increased Executive allowances again, once more as a response to formal recommendations.
What this means in effect is that, as an Executive member, I now receive £16,000 per annum on top of the £10,000 that I receive as a councillor. As it happens I didn't support the increase when it was proposed at Borough Council (a matter of documented historical record, although that inconvenient fact doesn't stop my opponents from pretending that I did). I didn't support it, not because I don't honestly feel that I and other Executive members can justify such an amount with the work we put in, but because the government, having advised Hounslow and other councils to pay "realistic" salaries (let's face it, they can no longer be called expenses) to Executive members, then didn't make any extra provision to enable us to do so without eating into our own already scarce resources.
Now I make no criticism of fellow Executive members who manage to perform their civic duties whilst holding down full-time employment in other areas. However, speaking personally I do not feel I could function as effectively as I demand of myself if I had the added burden of holding down a 9 to 5 job in the market and so, consequently, I have made the decision not to do so.
Criticism of that decision comes primarily from two sources. The first and most obvious is the bitter, failed ex-councillors who were unceremoniously dumped by the electorate (although you'll never hear any suggestion from them that they might have been at all to blame for their own predicament). These are people who held office when members' allowances were at an absolute minimum and who, perhaps understandably up to a point, feel resentful that those whom the electors chose to replace them with are now receiving remuneration on a level which they personally did not enjoy. It is a particularly cruel irony when one considers that they represented a political school of thought which was fiercely materialistic in its outlook.
The second is those who, quite simply, presumed that councillors already lived in mansions, drove Rollers and received six-figure salaries. The look of surprise on the face of constituents when they discover that, as Lead Member for Housing, I still live in an overcrowded, rented flat on what many deem to be a "problem" estate (unlike the previous crowd, "it's not what you know but who you know" forms no part of the philosophy of the new administration) has to be seen to be believed.
In actual fact being through my own choice a "full-time" Executive member leaves me between a rock and a hard place. Unlike the councillors of 1998 I cannot claim to be doing the job solely for love. And yet with a family to feed and a roof over their heads to keep I still need to pay the bills. Love is a noble cause for which to work, but when I told my bank manager I loved him his reply was "I love you too, but what about your overdraft?".
And so it is that I've been sitting at my desktop PC for the last two or three weeks, devising ways of bringing in an income which will supplement that which I receive from the local authority without committing me to working fixed hours. I have started to build websites and blogs with that ignoble but wholly necessary purpose in mind.
So this is where the story comes back to my attendance at Church. Because for all the effort I put into promoting my local political cause, an effort which I am now trying to imitate in promoting a business of sorts, it occurred to me that I have done little by comparison to promote the work of the Church. My lack of theological expertise is mitigation, but not entirely an excuse. There are things I can be doing, and haven't been.
It is funny how adversity often teases out introspection. Have no fear, you won't be hearing me ringing bells or preaching in the High Street any time soon. But a little bit of time devoted to something which has sustained and inspired me so much in my life must surely be a sacrifice worth making?
I tend not to preach about my religious convictions. Whilst I may have carved a niche of sorts in the world of local politics, my theological grounding is limited to say the least. My commitment to my Church, such as it is, derives from instinct rather than scientific analysis. I think that is why they call it faith.
Without wishing to imply any disrespect to those good men and women who give up their Sunday mornings to come along and preach, I do on occasions find my thoughts wandering onto other matters - sometimes inspired, it has to be said, by something the preacher has said.
This morning I found myself reflecting on my activities of the past couple of weeks. In short, I have been using the political "quiet season" as a window of opportunity for trying to earn a crust.
When I first became a councillor, back in 1998, a councillor's annual allowance was in the region of £1,400. There was no question that this was just what it said on the tin - an allowance - and not a salary.
That allowance has since grown in increments to a little under £10,000, proportionately a massive increase but still not in itself a salary. Interestingly, these incremental increases all took place under the previous New Labour administration, who supported pay increases in office but oppose them in opposition.
With the introduction by the New Labour government of the new Executive or Cabinet system, a goodly proportion of the workload which used to be spread more evenly now falls upon the shoulders of a small handful of councillors. Acting upon government guidance the previous New Labour administration, which oversaw the introduction of this system in Hounslow, drastically ramped up the allowances available to Executive councillors (a hike which, again, they claim to be against now that they are in opposition and no longer benefit from it). The current administration took this one step further earlier this year and increased Executive allowances again, once more as a response to formal recommendations.
What this means in effect is that, as an Executive member, I now receive £16,000 per annum on top of the £10,000 that I receive as a councillor. As it happens I didn't support the increase when it was proposed at Borough Council (a matter of documented historical record, although that inconvenient fact doesn't stop my opponents from pretending that I did). I didn't support it, not because I don't honestly feel that I and other Executive members can justify such an amount with the work we put in, but because the government, having advised Hounslow and other councils to pay "realistic" salaries (let's face it, they can no longer be called expenses) to Executive members, then didn't make any extra provision to enable us to do so without eating into our own already scarce resources.
Now I make no criticism of fellow Executive members who manage to perform their civic duties whilst holding down full-time employment in other areas. However, speaking personally I do not feel I could function as effectively as I demand of myself if I had the added burden of holding down a 9 to 5 job in the market and so, consequently, I have made the decision not to do so.
Criticism of that decision comes primarily from two sources. The first and most obvious is the bitter, failed ex-councillors who were unceremoniously dumped by the electorate (although you'll never hear any suggestion from them that they might have been at all to blame for their own predicament). These are people who held office when members' allowances were at an absolute minimum and who, perhaps understandably up to a point, feel resentful that those whom the electors chose to replace them with are now receiving remuneration on a level which they personally did not enjoy. It is a particularly cruel irony when one considers that they represented a political school of thought which was fiercely materialistic in its outlook.
The second is those who, quite simply, presumed that councillors already lived in mansions, drove Rollers and received six-figure salaries. The look of surprise on the face of constituents when they discover that, as Lead Member for Housing, I still live in an overcrowded, rented flat on what many deem to be a "problem" estate (unlike the previous crowd, "it's not what you know but who you know" forms no part of the philosophy of the new administration) has to be seen to be believed.
In actual fact being through my own choice a "full-time" Executive member leaves me between a rock and a hard place. Unlike the councillors of 1998 I cannot claim to be doing the job solely for love. And yet with a family to feed and a roof over their heads to keep I still need to pay the bills. Love is a noble cause for which to work, but when I told my bank manager I loved him his reply was "I love you too, but what about your overdraft?".
And so it is that I've been sitting at my desktop PC for the last two or three weeks, devising ways of bringing in an income which will supplement that which I receive from the local authority without committing me to working fixed hours. I have started to build websites and blogs with that ignoble but wholly necessary purpose in mind.
So this is where the story comes back to my attendance at Church. Because for all the effort I put into promoting my local political cause, an effort which I am now trying to imitate in promoting a business of sorts, it occurred to me that I have done little by comparison to promote the work of the Church. My lack of theological expertise is mitigation, but not entirely an excuse. There are things I can be doing, and haven't been.
It is funny how adversity often teases out introspection. Have no fear, you won't be hearing me ringing bells or preaching in the High Street any time soon. But a little bit of time devoted to something which has sustained and inspired me so much in my life must surely be a sacrifice worth making?
Saturday, 12 July 2008
A necessary excursion
One type of event that an active councillor attends almost as frequently as meetings is funerals.
Yesterday my wife Caroline was a tad perplexed as to why I would drive 140 miles to and from Chichester to attend the funeral of Ted Hitchcock, a man whom I had seen twice, possibly three times, during the last thirty years.
When I was a lad of fourteen I was, as I am today, a regular attendee at Isleworth Congregational Church. As well as services on Sunday mornings, the Church ran a youth club on Monday evenings which was the highlight of my social calendar. During one year in particular - and I remember the year well, it was 1976 - it was the epicentre of everything I lived for. It was where my closest friends went, it was where my gang was based, it was where music was played of a kind (Barry White, Van McCoy, George McCrae) for which I would not under other circumstances have had any enthusiasm but which, because I associate it with that year and with that club, I still cannot listen to without an almost unbearable desire to turn back the clock and walk back into the Church Hall one last time in my four-inch platforms and tartan lumber-jacket (with collar upturned) to see my old mates once again.
Ted was a helper at that club, as was his wife Dorothy and his daughter Jane. He was a Deacon of the Church (as I am today), who gave up his Monday evenings for no personal gain to help ensure that twenty or thirty local youngsters were kept off the streets and on the straight and narrow. But he did more than just help. He took an interest. I can remember holding quite a few deep conversations with him about a range of issues - social, theological, musical. Whether he was humouring me or not I'll never know, but I always felt as though he was treating me as an equal.
In late 1975 some members of the club spent a weekend away on a barge on the Thames at Abingdon. Most of us travelled there by minibus, driven by another helper. Ted arrived a little while later in his estate car. Taking one look around the dormitory-style sleeping quarters he decided very quickly that they brought back too many unhappy memories of his time as a Prisoner Of War, and elected to sleep in his car instead. But he stayed the weekend nevertheless.
As fate would have it and despite the very best efforts of Ted and others to steer me along the correct course in life, I strayed from the path regardless. Unbalanced by the sense of shock which came with the realisation that even the state of spiritual perfection that was 1976, not to mention adolescence itself, had to come to end, I began to develop an unhealthy interest in fascist politics which led ultimately to me joining the National Front, and remaining with it or with splinters thereof until just after my thirtieth birthday. Inevitably, my new enthusiasms ran coterminously with my disengagement from my Church.
Although for two decades I had hankered on many an occasion to walk back into the Church, I felt unworthy. However in 1998, shortly after having been elected as a councillor for the first time, I bit the bullet and attended a service - in part to honour a promise to the late former Secretary Pat Burch, who was also one of my constituents and who during the election campaign had taken out membership of the ICG. I have been involved again with the Church ever since.
By this time Ted and Dorothy had long retired, and had moved down south. However during my ten years of renewed work for the Church I saw them when they returned on a couple of occasions to attend special events.
Ted passed away a few weeks after his ninetieth birthday. Although I had seen him only rarely since achieving adulthood, I wanted to pay my respects to somebody who had been part of what was a very special period of my life.
I also think, subconsciously, that I wanted to give him back some of the time which he gave to me as a member of the youth club.
The world would be a much worse place without all those selfless people who give up their own time for no other reason than to make the lives of those around them better. Ted, and others of his kind, should serve as an example to us all.
Yesterday my wife Caroline was a tad perplexed as to why I would drive 140 miles to and from Chichester to attend the funeral of Ted Hitchcock, a man whom I had seen twice, possibly three times, during the last thirty years.
When I was a lad of fourteen I was, as I am today, a regular attendee at Isleworth Congregational Church. As well as services on Sunday mornings, the Church ran a youth club on Monday evenings which was the highlight of my social calendar. During one year in particular - and I remember the year well, it was 1976 - it was the epicentre of everything I lived for. It was where my closest friends went, it was where my gang was based, it was where music was played of a kind (Barry White, Van McCoy, George McCrae) for which I would not under other circumstances have had any enthusiasm but which, because I associate it with that year and with that club, I still cannot listen to without an almost unbearable desire to turn back the clock and walk back into the Church Hall one last time in my four-inch platforms and tartan lumber-jacket (with collar upturned) to see my old mates once again.
Ted was a helper at that club, as was his wife Dorothy and his daughter Jane. He was a Deacon of the Church (as I am today), who gave up his Monday evenings for no personal gain to help ensure that twenty or thirty local youngsters were kept off the streets and on the straight and narrow. But he did more than just help. He took an interest. I can remember holding quite a few deep conversations with him about a range of issues - social, theological, musical. Whether he was humouring me or not I'll never know, but I always felt as though he was treating me as an equal.
In late 1975 some members of the club spent a weekend away on a barge on the Thames at Abingdon. Most of us travelled there by minibus, driven by another helper. Ted arrived a little while later in his estate car. Taking one look around the dormitory-style sleeping quarters he decided very quickly that they brought back too many unhappy memories of his time as a Prisoner Of War, and elected to sleep in his car instead. But he stayed the weekend nevertheless.
As fate would have it and despite the very best efforts of Ted and others to steer me along the correct course in life, I strayed from the path regardless. Unbalanced by the sense of shock which came with the realisation that even the state of spiritual perfection that was 1976, not to mention adolescence itself, had to come to end, I began to develop an unhealthy interest in fascist politics which led ultimately to me joining the National Front, and remaining with it or with splinters thereof until just after my thirtieth birthday. Inevitably, my new enthusiasms ran coterminously with my disengagement from my Church.
Although for two decades I had hankered on many an occasion to walk back into the Church, I felt unworthy. However in 1998, shortly after having been elected as a councillor for the first time, I bit the bullet and attended a service - in part to honour a promise to the late former Secretary Pat Burch, who was also one of my constituents and who during the election campaign had taken out membership of the ICG. I have been involved again with the Church ever since.
By this time Ted and Dorothy had long retired, and had moved down south. However during my ten years of renewed work for the Church I saw them when they returned on a couple of occasions to attend special events.
Ted passed away a few weeks after his ninetieth birthday. Although I had seen him only rarely since achieving adulthood, I wanted to pay my respects to somebody who had been part of what was a very special period of my life.
I also think, subconsciously, that I wanted to give him back some of the time which he gave to me as a member of the youth club.
The world would be a much worse place without all those selfless people who give up their own time for no other reason than to make the lives of those around them better. Ted, and others of his kind, should serve as an example to us all.
Monday, 12 May 2008
A day in the life of...
You'll all be relieved to hear that I've no intention of consigning my every deed to posterity by logging it on this forum. All the same, today provided as true an example as any of the kind of routine followed by a community councillor with a seat on the Executive and roots in his community.
After checking my incoming e-mails from any early risers (mainly officers of the Council), I ventured forth to the Brentford end of Syon ward to distribute some copies of the ICG's newsletter Community News. Some 350 leaflets hit doormats around Albany Road, where I happened upon a couple of old friends from Lateward Road and stopped briefly for a chat.
Then back to Isleworth for breakfast - a couple of baguettes from the popular Joseph's Patisserie in South Street (thanks Camil) - before heading off to the Civic Centre for a 1.30 meeting with the Interim Director of Housing at the London Borough of Hounslow to touch base on some issues relating to housing allocation and Hounslow Homes.
Running a little behind schedule, at 3.30 a short scurry across the Pavilion took me to the office of the Assistant Chief Executive for Corporate Policy & Regeneration for a meeting with the Head of Community Safety, the Senior Community Safety Officer and a delegation from senior management at Hounslow Homes to discuss the progress of our dedicated Race Crime work on our social housing estates.
Back to the Community Group office in the Members' Services Area at about 5.00, Councillor Dr. Genevieve Hibbs was beavering away at her laptop. Some interaction on the local internet forums - much of it, ironically, discussing this blog. A few 'phone calls to constituents, and some private work writing up the Minutes of the April Deacons' Meeting at my Church (the Isleworth Congregational on the junction of Twickenham Road and Worton Road).
We were joined a little later by Councillor Paul Fisher, who had arrived back from his recent short holiday in Poland and was preparing for a meeting of Area Committee chairs (Paul is Chair of the Isleworth & Brentford Area Committee). Briefly I updated him about events over the past few days. It really is amazing that in such a short of period of absence he had missed an Area Committee meeting, the HFTRA Conference, a ward surgery, sad confirmation of an Isleworth Post Office closure, and the bizarre Save Our Homes meeting, for more on which visit Bowen's Blog.
Following that meeting I drove Paul back home, then on to the Deacons' Meeting which began at 8.00. Miraculously (no pun intended) it was all over by 8.40, so it was back home for dinner, more e-mails, this blog and ...oh, yes... there are a couple of little people around the house who are deserving of a little time and attention too.
Whilst no two days are the same, this one was not untypical. The trick, I'm told, is to attend to each commitment in its correct proportion. Whether I have managed to achieve that will, ultimately, be for my constituents or a divorce lawyer to decide.
After checking my incoming e-mails from any early risers (mainly officers of the Council), I ventured forth to the Brentford end of Syon ward to distribute some copies of the ICG's newsletter Community News. Some 350 leaflets hit doormats around Albany Road, where I happened upon a couple of old friends from Lateward Road and stopped briefly for a chat.
Then back to Isleworth for breakfast - a couple of baguettes from the popular Joseph's Patisserie in South Street (thanks Camil) - before heading off to the Civic Centre for a 1.30 meeting with the Interim Director of Housing at the London Borough of Hounslow to touch base on some issues relating to housing allocation and Hounslow Homes.
Running a little behind schedule, at 3.30 a short scurry across the Pavilion took me to the office of the Assistant Chief Executive for Corporate Policy & Regeneration for a meeting with the Head of Community Safety, the Senior Community Safety Officer and a delegation from senior management at Hounslow Homes to discuss the progress of our dedicated Race Crime work on our social housing estates.
Back to the Community Group office in the Members' Services Area at about 5.00, Councillor Dr. Genevieve Hibbs was beavering away at her laptop. Some interaction on the local internet forums - much of it, ironically, discussing this blog. A few 'phone calls to constituents, and some private work writing up the Minutes of the April Deacons' Meeting at my Church (the Isleworth Congregational on the junction of Twickenham Road and Worton Road).
We were joined a little later by Councillor Paul Fisher, who had arrived back from his recent short holiday in Poland and was preparing for a meeting of Area Committee chairs (Paul is Chair of the Isleworth & Brentford Area Committee). Briefly I updated him about events over the past few days. It really is amazing that in such a short of period of absence he had missed an Area Committee meeting, the HFTRA Conference, a ward surgery, sad confirmation of an Isleworth Post Office closure, and the bizarre Save Our Homes meeting, for more on which visit Bowen's Blog.
Following that meeting I drove Paul back home, then on to the Deacons' Meeting which began at 8.00. Miraculously (no pun intended) it was all over by 8.40, so it was back home for dinner, more e-mails, this blog and ...oh, yes... there are a couple of little people around the house who are deserving of a little time and attention too.
Whilst no two days are the same, this one was not untypical. The trick, I'm told, is to attend to each commitment in its correct proportion. Whether I have managed to achieve that will, ultimately, be for my constituents or a divorce lawyer to decide.
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