Not a lot of people know that

Image of Wrexham town centre. Permission given...

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An all-day ministerial excursion took me today to Wrexham, the part of the world where I was brought up and which, in my admittedly prejudiced opinion, is one of the most interesting corners of Wales, with a rich military, industrial and social heritage.

There, I learned some facts of which I was previously unaware:

  • Glyndŵr University was constructed in the 1950s, in what I can only describe as a very late art deco style, as a technical college.  It was built, however, with a more sombre alternative potential use in mind: as a hospital to accommodate the victims of a nuclear attack.  Hence, the corridors are particularly wide, to allow for the passage of trolleys and beds.  We must be thankful that it never needed to be adapted from its primary purpose.
  • The old police station, which is now being converted, courtesy of the Heritage Lottery Fund, into the Wrexham museum, was formerly a barracks for the Denbighshire Yeomanry.  It originally had a tower (two of which remain) on each of its four corners  and was planned to be surrounded by a moat.  Like many fine Wrexham buildings of the period, is constructed of honey-coloured Cefn-y-Fedw sandstone, which is sadly no longer quarried.
  • The police station’s architect also designed the marble church in Bodelwyddan.
  • Owls, according to the members of Owlrescue whom I met at Garth CP School, can rotate their heads through 270 degrees.  They do this because they are unable to swivel their eyes.
  • Not all owls are nocturnal hunters; only those with dark eyes are.  Owls with yellow eyes are diurnal and those with orange eyes are crepuscular.

Tomorrow, it’s the Denbigh and Flint show.  I’d bet a pound to a penny that I will learn something new there, too.  Because, in this job, that’s something that happens every day.

Eye for design

I’ve always liked cars, which is probably a dangerous thing to admit to in these politically correct days in which, in certain quarters, the likes of Jeremy Clarkson are suspected of covertly bearing the mark of the Beast.     

Notwithstanding, I do like cars and in Ruthin today, I saw a car that was – to my subjective eye – utterly beautiful.  It was a 2003 Peugeot 406 coupé, a model that had previously, inexplicably, escaped my notice. 

I spent several minutes walking around it, admiring the purity and elegant simplicity of its lines.  It was, according to a discreet badge low on its flank, a product of Farina, the Italian design house responsible for some of the most exciting models of such exotic marques as Ferrari, Maserati and Alfa Romeo, as well the more interesting offerings of such home-grown names as Morris and Austin in pre-British Leyland days.

I was lucky enough to meet its owner shortly afterwards and got into conversation with him.  He told me that the car gave him enormous pleasure and that he felt sure it was a future classic.

I feel pretty sure he’s right.  It’s an absolute stunner.

What ingredient is it, I wonder, in the Italian DNA that makes them such brilliant designers?  It’s not only cars; it’s ships, it’s clothes, it’s even coffee machines, for heaven’s sake.  Italy, above all nations, produces designers con bravura.

The seven year-old Peugeot, though French-manufactured, screamed “Italian”.  And, as such, it was an object that engendered instant, indefinable desire.

In praise of Gilian Duffy

My sincere admiration goes to Gillian Duffy, the lifelong Labour supporter from Rochdale, whose trip to the shops last April to buy a loaf of bread turned into the defining moment of the 2010 general election campaign.

Given her very public humiliation at the hands of the leader of her party, who churlishly denounced her as a “bigoted woman”, she might have felt tempted, were she a lesser person, to tell Labour where to stick it.

Mrs Duffy, however, is made of sterner stuff, and yesterday was guest of honour at the opening of the offices of Simon Danczuk, Rochdale’s new Member of Parliament.

Gillian Duffy is a trooper who is clearly devoted to her party and prepared to put the past behind her to advance its cause.

One might be inclined to contrast her conduct with that of Gordon Brown, of whom little has been seen since May.

Big Society in Old Colwyn

This evening, I paid my annual visit to the Old Colwyn East Residents’ Association.  The meeting, which was well-attended, was also very lively. 

The secretary, David Curtis (who is shortly to retire, which will be a major loss to the Association), read the minutes of the previous month’s meeting.  I was particularly interested when he referred to the “adopt-a-border” scheme at St John’s church.  Under the scheme, individual local people will assume responsibility for looking after one of the church’s seventeen flower beds, so helping maintain the wonderful garden that has won so many Wales in Bloom awards.

I pointed out that “adopt-a-border” was very much in tune with the Big Society agenda.  Big Society was simply a reflection what is already happening up and down the country, with people taking responsibility for the direction of their own communities, with the Government helping them to achieve their aims.

All over this constituency and, indeed, all over Britain, people such those I met this evening are rolling up their sleeves and getting stuck in, doing their bit for the place they live in and so making it a little better.  If Big Society can help them to do even more, it will have proven its worth.

Rural Wales Taskforce

Visited the Anglesey show today, which was so well attended that we had to wait in a queue for forty minutes before entering the showground. 

When we finally got in, it was well worth the wait.  The weather was perfect, with the large crowds clearly enjoying themselves.   I was pleased to see my old friend Ieuan Wyn Jones; our respective officials took pictures of us together.  I wondered momentarily what our old principal from Ruthin days, Elwyn Talog Davies, would have said if he could have seen us.

I took the opportunity to launch the Welsh Office’s new taskforce aimed at consulting on the economic impact of the downturn on the life of rural Wales.  Over the next few months, we will be consulting with individuals, community groups, academics and business organisations to gather views and suggestions as to what the coalition Government can do to promote recovery in the rural areas.

The initiative was well received by the two Welsh farmers’ unions, the CLA and the Federation of Small Businesses.   We are now inviting other groups to feed their views into the Office by the 27th September.

For more information, visit the Wales Office website.

Glyn still blooming

Yesterday, for the sixth year running, I participated in the judging of the annual “Glyn in Bloom” competition, which has become a firmly established feature of civic life in that part of Colwyn Bay.

The concept is simple: Glyn is divided up into individual streets, and first, second and third prizes are awarded to the best front gardens.  Up to two additional merit awards are given, to encourage completion.  The result is that over the past five years, the overall standard of gardens in the Glyn has visibly improved and the competition is keenly contested.  . 

Paul Richards, the local town councillor who plays a big part in organising “Glyn in Bloom”, told me that its annual cost is no more than £250.  To see such a positive impact on civic pride in return for so small an outlay is truly to appreciate the meaning of “bang for the buck”.   

I am pictured with Phill Williams, one of this year’s winners, whose garden in Ffordd Dawel is an absolute delight.

Why Sodom?

Llanrhaeadr show yesterday, and the weather turned fine after an early morning cloudburst.

The show was one of the best attended of recent years, with high standards in all classes, particularly the pony section.

Entering the showground, I did a double-take at the incongruous sight of an enclosure what I thought were llamas, but in fact turned out to be alpacas, from a herd established at the wonderfully-named Sodom Hall, near Bodfari.  They were beautiful, gentle animals and produce, I am told, exceptionally fine wool.

If anyone knows why the area they come from is called Sodom, I will be fascinated (albeit a little nervous) to hear. 

Not Jack’s style

Less than three months after announcing his resignation from the Opposition front bench, Jack Straw has announced it again.

This time, however, he has also announced his intention to publish his memoirs, which he says he hopes will be “readable” and not “tedious or self-serving”.  I have no doubt that, being the sort of chap he is, he will succeed on both counts.

Jack has also made clear his distaste for the recently-published memoirs of Lord Mandelson (which I am presently reading with great interest):

“I don’t approve of people breaking confidences. It may sound very old-fashioned, but I don’t approve, for example, of the way Peter Mandelson has behaved and neither do quite a number of my colleagues.”

No, I shouldn’t have thought you would approve, Jack.  Not your style at all.

A long haul

As Monty Slocombe has pointed out in his usual courteous and understated way, there has been little blogging on this site over the last few days.  Primarily, this has been due to a significant increase in my workload; I thought an MP’s life was busy, which it is, but ministerial duties have taken that workload up another gear still. 

Sadly, therefore, I have to conclude that light blogging is likely to be the rule, rather than the exception, for the foreseeable future.  My profuse apologies to my readers, but there we are.  I’m sure you’ll understand. 

A second reason for the lack of blogging has been the fact that we have just moved house – a significantly harrowing experience, bedevilled and delayed by all sorts of hiccups. 

The move itself took place on Friday.  We said goodbye to the old family house, loaded our worldly possessions in a couple of vans and headed two miles eastward, over the next hill but one.  There we disgorged the same possessions and settled down to a summer in which we will be sharing our new home with builders, electricians, heating engineers and decorators.  

It will be a long haul, but I’m sure it will be worth it.

David Laws

Appeared on BBC’s Politics Show this lunchtime and was, inevitably, asked about the resignation of David Laws. 

Certain sections of the media are trying to spin the line that this was a homophobic witch-hunt, but it was nothing of the sort.  The allegation against David Laws is that he diverted expenses to his partner in contravention of Parliamentary rules.  This would have been a serious matter whether the partner were male or female.  Laws has decided, correctly, that his continuance as Chief Secretary is impossible, given the nature of the allegation.

It may well be, of course, that David Laws is wholly exonerated by the Parliamentary Standards Commissioner, to whom, quite properly, he has referred himself.  In that case, as David Cameron has made clear, there may  be a future role for him in government.

I hope so.  In the short time that  he was at the Treasury, David Laws showed that he has a great deal to offer public life in Britain.

Hip, hip, hooray!

In a couple of weeks, we will be moving house.  I can’t say I’m looking forward to it terribly, although I know it’s time to go: our house, which served us well while the boys were growing up, and of which we have many so happy memories, is now just too big.  So, yes, it is time to move on.

Moving house is a terrifically disruptive business; I’m told it’s the third most stressful event in life, after death and divorce.  All that paperwork, all those boxes, all that chaos.  But, still, we are moving and are looking forward to a summer sharing our new home with builders, electricians, plumbers and decorators.  There’s a lot of work to be done.  I only hope that, at the end of it all, it’ll be worth it.

At the start of the process of selling our house, we had to pay for a Home Information Pack.  It cost over £300, which Sara paid while I was in London, and for which I keep meaning to reimburse her.  A man with a clipboard came round one afternoon to carry out the inspection.  The HIP, when it arrived, told us nothing we didn’t know already.  The Energy Performance Certificate (required as a consequence of a European directive) informed us that the house is not terribly energy efficient.  Given that the property was built over 150 years ago with walls of solid stone, it didn’t come as a huge surprise.  Neither, I imagine, did it surprise our buyers.

HIPs were, of course, meant to speed up conveyancing, by providing buyers with a complete set of pertinent information at the start of the sale process.  Did it work in our case?  Not really; our buyers’ solicitors decided, quite rightly, to commission their own search, on the basis that the search provided by the HIP company was a personal one, not issued by the council’s local land charges department.  They also raised a number of pre-contract enquiries in addition to the standard ones we had answered.   There were also further delays, with which I shall not bore you.  In all, it took some ten weeks before contracts were exchanged.

The HIP didn’t help at all; it was still a painful process.  The £300 odd that we stumped up was a straightforward waste of money for which we feel we had nothing in return.

This week, our removal man came round to assess the job.  Naturally, he mentioned the election and said he was delighted that the Conservatives had promised to abolish HIPs.  “They’ve cost me loads of money,” he said.  “People didn’t want to pay for them in a difficult housing market, so they just made things worse.  More houses should go on the market if HIPs are scrapped; people should start moving again.”

Yesterday, we delivered on our pledge.  My colleague, Grant Shapps, the Housing minister, announced that the need for buyers to commission HIPs has been suspended pending legislation for their permanent abolition.

Too late for me (or for Sara), I’m afraid, but still in good time to boost the spring selling season.

Easy mistake

Apologies for the light blogging of late, but life has been rather hectic over the past seven days.

Yesterday evening, after driving back from London, I attended the annual dinner of the North Wales CBI at the St David’s Park hotel, Ewloe.  There were a number of extremely good speeches, including one by my friend Jeremy Salisbury, the CBI’s current chairman, who gave a summary of what the organisation was looking to the new Government to do for business.  On the whole, he gave the coalition a reasonably warm welcome.

The principal speaker was the Welsh First Minister, Carwyn Jones, who delivered a good speech, including an entertaining account of his experiences canvassing in South Wales during the general election campaign.

I was particularly amused when he related a story of knocking on the door of a house in Bridgend to be greeted by a lady who said she was absolutely delighted to see him, because she watched him on television every night.

“Every night?” enquired Carwyn, perplexed.  “I’m on TV quite a bit, but not that often.”

“Oh, aren’t you the BBC Wales weatherman?” asked the lady, clearly very disappointed.

I was pleased to learn that I am not the only one to have noted the resemblance.

Same feet, different tables

An incredibly busy couple of days.

Monday was spent in Cardiff, settling into the Wales Office building in Cardiff Bay, meeting the very welcoming officials and generally getting my feet under the table.  There was a very successful visit by the Prime Minister to the Assembly, where we met the Presiding Officer and the PM and Secretary of State had a private meeting with the First Minister.

Yesterday I got my feet under another table; this time, the one in my office at Gwydyr House, the Wales Office’s principal base, in Whitehall.  Again, a round of meeting more officials, who were equally welcoming.

In the afternoon, I crammed with colleagues into the overflowing Commons chamber for the election of the Speaker.  Not only were there hundreds of new faces, I had the experience for the first time of viewing my colleagues from the Government side. 

The election procedure was conducted in stentorian tones by the new Father of the House, Sir Peter Tapsell.  Sir Peter is a formidable yet well-loved figure, and appropriate tribute was paid to him by Sir Malcolm Rifkind, who informed the House that its new Father had first entered the chamber in 1959, having previously worked for Sir Anthony Eden.

John Bercow was re-elected by almost universal acclamation.

Then back to Gwydyr House, and more meetings.

Cardiff Monday, London Tuesday.  If it’s Wednesday, it must be St Asaph.

May blossom

Throwing open the curtains this morning, I am greeted by a brilliantly clear day.  So clear, indeed, that it is hard to believe that, high above me in the stratosphere, there is a pall of Icelandic volcanic ash so dense that, once again, flights from British airports are grounded.

The ash cloud has not, however, descended to the lower reaches of the atmosphere.  It is, I repeat, a stunningly clear day: so clear, that it is possible to pick out every sheep enclosure, every whitewashed cottage on the slopes of the Carneddau, now free, at last, of the snows that have lingered since October. 

The may is breaking into blossom, too, throughout North Wales.  The journey back from Ruthin surgery yesterday was a delight, the Clwydian roads lined with hawthorn trees heavy with the white, sometimes pink, bloom that is the cheerful hallmark of springtime here; the most visible sign of nature’s renewal.

Today I must drive back to London, taking with me boxes of files that were temporarily removed to the constituency during the election campaign.  The Mini is crammed full of them; it took me ages to get them in and I have no idea how I will unload them when I arrive.  I’m beginning to think that I may, sadly, need a four-door car again.

And tomorrow, there will be new challenges.  New job, new office, new colleagues, new routines.  The familiar process of adapting to the unfamiliar.

But new is good; new means progress.  New means change. 

Change, heaven knows, is what our country has needed, for so very long.  And change, at last,  has started.

Typical

Typical; you wait years for a Miliband leadership challenge and then two turn up at the same time.