I digress...

Just read somewhere that Michael Howard's parents were from Transylvania. .
If this is true I think I can now understand why Anne Widdecombe said he '...has something of the night about him'.(You have to say it in a thick Boris Karloff-type accent for it to work).

It's also interesting to note that only the front page seems to be working on Michael's website. Press the appropriate button for his views on for example 'Asylum' or 'Education' and 'page cannot be found' comes up. Perhaps he's having a re-think before his big day.

Personally I think the Tories have made a mistake. Ken Clarke is the man for them. I can see it now...Prime Minister Potato Head. At least he looks like he's from planet earth. He smokes, he drinks, he's on the tubby side, without doubt a man of the people. I think it's the fact that he wears a wide brimmed hat when he's out and about that puts people off. Or. He does have a strange 'chuntering' affliction when he performs in Parliament which can be rather off-putting (or amusing).

Ah well, whatever happens I think things are going to liven up a little. Tony could find himself with a fight on his hands. It might even do him some good who knows? As long as it doesn't get too lively what with his dodgy ticker and everything.

The bits of Stratford that aren’t built on are looking really good today. Spectacular.
Down by the river, in the Theatre gardens, Holy Trinity, in fact everywhere where there’s more than two trees looks fantastically autumnal. As far as natural beauty goes I’m afraid I’m a bit of a thug (I’m not an evening sunset person. Give me an electrical storm every time) but even I’m moved, so much so that I’ve taken a photograph of the tree I used to chase my kids around (many years ago) and posted it in my Blog’s photo album (ShakespeareLand plc). Sad, I know. I promise it won’t happen again.
The Autumn’s a special time for me albeit a busy one what with all the obsessive food gathering. I’m already starting to feel sleepy but I’ll press on until I’ve enough material to make a decent nest. Incidentally, why do our American friends call Autumn, Fall? Is it to do with the leaves falling off the trees? Sounds a bit Biblical to me…The Fall…it sounds like a punishment for having had too much of a good time in the summer.

There’s a lot of talk these days about the regeneration of dear old S-on-A. This week in the local press (yes you’ve guessed it The Stratford Herald-I wish-don’t you dare! More later.) there’s speculation about Stratford’s potential at becoming ‘a top European international exhibition and conference venue’. Paul ‘what else do you expect me to say’ Ratcliffe, director of a firm that organises conferences for the likes of Heinz and Glaxo SmithKline (trust them to get a mention) goes as far to say that Stratford…’is staring in the face a major opportunity to regenerate itself…’
So here we go again. Another article, another vision of Stratford in the (near?) future and yet another failure to mention the people that live here and in whose hands lie the real regeneration. Once again no mention of what they might want. Business, business, business.
I’m not so stupid as to think that the appearance of a conference centre won’t have any ‘benefits’ for the local community, of course it will, there will be (service) jobs. And the people who arrive for the conferences, the sales reps et al will spend some of their bonuses, golden parachute money, share options etc in Stratford’s tea shoppes and public houses. They may even (let’s face it they will-just to say they’ve been) go to the theatre. However, during their free-time, time away from the flip charts and Powerpoint presentations they will inevitably bump up against ordinary Stratfordians going about their everyday lives. Ordinary Stratfordians who have no need for plastic name tags because they know who they are. Angry, ordinary Stratfordians who have watched the ongoing encroachment of big business in all its forms slowly take over the Town. Angry, ordinary Stratfordians who have watched their offspring disappear to faraway places in a desperate effort to find somewhere affordable to live. Angry, ordinary and deluded Stratfordians who for reasons best known to themselves keep voting for the same worse than useless councillors who appear unable to do anything that could be regarded as positive and for the people. (So prove me wrong? Name me something good that's happened recently that all Stratford's citizens can share and be pleased about? And don't say Town Square. I mean, honestly One plastic rubbish bag? What's that all about?)

When are The Suits going to realise that their vision of a cold sterile environment without people, only people who serve, will not work. Business Parks are not meant to live in and the view of Stratford as just a place to be wined and dined in will not work either.

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Increasing the Gap.

Seems the good old Stratford Herald (I wi-No!) will do anything to attract customers of a certain ilk. Not for them the shaven-headed, heavily tattooed, ear-ringed reader of the dreadful downmarket puns of The Sun and The Mirror, no way Hathaway.
Remember the attempt to attract the more cerebral reader with the infamous Latin headline of a few weeks ago? Well, it obviously didn’t work.
This week sees another headline aimed at pulling in the more educated reader. A little lower down the scale but a nice try all the same…MP’S KAFKAESQUE ROLE IN LEADERSHIP DRAMA .

Zzzzzzzz……

Town’s gone very quiet all of a sudden.
Today I thought I’d do the tour, take in the sights, the sounds. Maybe take a few photos (see photo album), have a coffee, bit of shopping you know the kind of thing. A nice relaxed mooch about. Unfortunately I made the mistake of driving in (not something I usually do) and it took me half an hour to find somewhere to park. By the time I found a space I was spitting blood. My language was disgusting and I thought I was going to have a seizure. Om…Omm…Ommm…calm…calm… Serves me right for being such a lazy prat.
Anyway, as my first port of call I thought I’d go and have a look at developments in Barrack-sorry-Town Square. There weren’t any. Mind you there was some bloke bellowing into his mobile at some poor unfortunate, probably his wife…’I think you ought to come down off your high-horse don’t you…’. That was quite entertaining and made up for the sea of concrete and lack of human contact. (Photo).
Sad to say it looks like the tourists have all gone home. I suppose that’s it for the year. Not an American to be spotted anywhere. Except for the ever-present Japanese there was hardly any signs of a foreign presence at all, although there were a lot of French school kids about, doing some last minute shopping no doubt (ahem…nervous cough).
When I got back to the car I found myself wedged in. Aaagh…some people are so inconsiderate…deep breaths…1…2…3…4…5…6…7…8…9…10…aaand relax. Thankfully my superior driving skills and cool temperament got me out of that little challenge for David Blaine’s recent record. On the whole then? A wasted and crap day in beautiful downtown Stratford upon Avon. And I have the photographs to prove it. (ShakespeareLand plc)

Thought for the day.
I really, really hope that Stratford finds a Saviour soon. A hero. Someone who can put this little old market Town back on its feet.

I digress…

Three-make that 4 things I don’t understand.

1. Grown men (and women) crying over an aeroplane?
(I can understand a tear shed for the Spitfire but the Concorde? It was a rich man's plaything for God's sake).

2. The hoo-ha over the gay guy about to be made Bishop.
(Isn’t the Church for Sinners? And who the hell is without sin? The words
whited and seplecures spring to mind, or if you like, whitewashed tombs (see
Matthew 23 v27). What about the planks in your own eyes you bunch of smartarses. (Sorry getting carried away..)

3. America’s total disregard for the environment
(Read yesterdays Guardian, *‘America is killing itself’. By Matthew Engel)

4. Why everyone is attacking Paul Burrel (the butler did it) without questioning the content of Lady Diana's worrying letter? Isn't this shooting the messenger? And why still no inquiry concerning her death?

*and us too.

AGINCOURT II. The Sequel

I promise you hand on heart that I’ve been looking around desperately for something positive to write about. I’m fed up with all the doom and gloom. Unfortunately these days it’s becoming more and more of an impossible task to find good news. Stratford and surrounding areas (e.g. the whole country) appear to be locked in an ongoing battle with the forces of darkness.
In a desperate effort to find something, anything, to make me smile I read The Herald (I wish no other Herald blah blah blah blah blah) from cover to cover. Twice. Nothing. Not even the combined monikers of le Vack and Witts raised a titter. God forbid that the sparkle should fade from even those hallowed pages.

Oh well, in for a penny…and in keeping with the dark mood…

I was shocked and horrified to read that violent crime across leafy Warwickshire has risen by 49 percent in the first six months of this year. Now, when I was at school, maths and especially percentages were a long way down the importance ladder but correct me if I’m wrong but 49 percent? That’s nearly half isn’t it? 49 percent? Stone me. In six months? What the hell’s going on I ask myself? I ought to underline the fact that the violence we’re talking about here is the real stuff and not the usual turnip throwing and cudgel prodding that goes on in Stratford Town Centre as a matter of course.
Lets have a look at some figures…
Robberies 238, Public disorder (Mother!) and violence in public places 3,698 incidents. Of which 11.6 percent were GBH (Grievous Bodily Harm or more serious). Surely some mistake? These must be the figures for the Bronx? And then…and then as if to underline these dreadful facts and figures a report on a particularly disgusting act of mass hooliganism last weekend and outside of all places Bill’s Birthplace in Henley Street…French and English fight in Street (under Local News).

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Mission Statement.

‘The force’s focus is on catching more criminals and bringing them to justice….’
Assistant Chief Constable Bob Golding.

Well that's a relief Bob. I was beginning to wonder...

STOP PRESS, HOLD THE FRONT PAGE (and all other such sayings)

UPSIDE.
As I write Stratford upon Avon Council are delivering Enormous green Wheelie Bins to all residents!
(Collapses in amazement).

DOWNSIDE.
For garden waste only.

A prayer for The Chief Executive.

Oh God...
We thank you for Our Lord Lankaster.
For his insight and wisdom in all matters recycling we give praise.
We thank him for the provision of One Large Green Wheelie Bin for garden waste only
and ask that he may see fit to provide more than one black plastic bag for the disposal of household rubbish.
We pray also that he may put the remainder of my One Thousand Pounds Council Tax to further good use.
In your mercy hear our prayer.

Timetable of Entertainment

4.00pm The Mayor, Town Clerk, The Beadle and Macebearers arrive at the Town Hall.
4.10pm School Choirs and members of the Town Council assemble.
4.25pm The Civic Party assembles on the Town Hall steps.
4.30pm Welcome and introduction to the Christmas Lights Switch on.
Christmas Carols and prayers
4.40pm The Consort and Paddington Bear switches on the lights.
4.50pm The Civic Party, Choirs and children process along the High Street, round Market Cross traffic island and back to the Town Hall. Coffee and mince pies will be served.


PS. I've just been told by one of my team of elves that Council employees are at this very moment erecting the Stratford street lighting.

Which reminds me....How many Stratford Council employees does it take to change a light bulb...?