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RICH HADLEY

Thinking around.

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A Tale Told By An Idiot, signifying Nothing.

22/12/2017

1 Comment

 
Picture
There was nothing extraordinary about Ledbury Town Council's extraordinary town council meeting on 4 December, 2017.
 
As we pushed open the heavy meeting room door, what met us was a row of dour, insolent faces ranged around the two far sides of the meeting table, and a heavy fug of stale human breath. This is Ledbury Town Council's camarilla, a characterful Hogarthian assemblage, some craggy, some bloated but all with pinched expressions and more or less up to no good.
 
Here is the liar Bob Barnes who likes to think of himself as the Father of the Town Council, its intellectual and moral dynamo, bulwark of traditional Ledbury values. He sits next to Ledbury's shortest-lived mayor, the ill-fated Martin Eager, perennially red-faced and embittered by the public reaction to his crimes. There is the Mother Crowe, centre stage, tossing her blond tresses triumphantly like an Aryan goddess. Her nemesis, Jayne Roberts is uncomfortably at her side with a curled lip: perhaps she is remembering Annette's nasty line of comments about her resembling a slug? Citizen Tony Bradford looks to his friend Debbie Baker who is stony-faced and unblinking. With something of the Toby jug about them, the slightly disheveled pair have common cause in a range of occult pursuits. Finally, the inscrutable Andy Manns stares straight ahead, creating the strong impression of someone who knows a very great deal, or else knows nothing at all.
 
It was 7.25pm. They had each one arrived early to gain the psychological advantage of established formation, and being serried together, were thus enabled to make sotto voce remarks and cast meaningful sideways glances if required. Even though so many of them hate each other with a passion, it is important that they cleave together in this time of disquiet.
 
Councillors from the 'other side' (ie Harvey et al) arrived along with a half a dozen or so members of the public, cheerily greeting each other while those opposite continued to glare menacingly, irritated by the pleasantries. In the manner of a theatre late-comer, the ambitious Ms Jean Simpson was the last councillor to arrive and had to squeeze herself awkwardly past chairs and scramble over already seated councillors to get to her confederates on the far side. The only difference on her part was the marked absence of civility; there was no 'excuse me' or 'sorry to trouble you' or 'thank you'. The slightly unseemly commotion passed, and once seated, Jean carefully set her sharp face perfectly to the same wintry expression as her confederates.
 
Almost on the stroke of seven thirty, the stand-in clerk Lynda Wilcox, who had been waiting timorously in a back office, scuttled to her place at the head of the table, head down and avoiding eye contact. She was followed noisily by the Mayor fresh from a fortifying ciggie and thus fortified, redolent of stale tobacco smoke. Good evening, she rasped loudly, plonking her big bag on the table in front of an increasingly woebegone Deputy Mayor Keith Francis, causing him to start.
 
There was nothing whatsoever in Elaine's bold performance to suggest that just ten minutes before, she had had a blazing argument with another councillor sitting just across the table, an ex-mayor. Like so many before it, the altercation took place under the shadowy vaults of The Market House. It was brought to an abrupt stop by the appearance of several members of the public also making for the Town Council offices. Debbie Baker raised the palm of her hand contemptuously and walked away even while Elaine was still remonstrating with her. 'Not interested', said Debbie. The Mayor's face was contorted with rage and frustration at the slight, and yet just a few moments later, it was returned to its customary public serenity.
 
After a little whispered conferring with Lynda, the old library clock chimed the half hour in its wan, melancholy way. The mayor got out her customary bag of boiled sweets and plucked a vivid red one which she popped between her freshly lipsticked red lips, equally vivid.
 
Let the meeting commence. 'Welcome to this erm extraordinary full council meeting,' she gurgled while theatrically shuffling papers . 'Members of the public are permitted to film or record meetings to which they are permitted access... deemed to have consented... those exercising... rights of... Data Protection Act 1998... is there anyone filming? Oh you, yes... well then, first item Apologies... no? Good. Interests...'
 
And so for several minutes the mayor droningly read out the meeting rubric in the manner of a bored priest saying mass for the ten thousandth time, or an old Latin master starting his double period with an improving, complex piece by Horace. This conventional preamble is usefully designed to allow an air of tedium to settle on the meeting, becalming any restive creative spirits who might have ideas to create a diversion.
 
In the silent pauses, you could just hear the clanking of a boiled sweet against one of the Mayor's remaining molars. That tangy fruitiness had her mouth awash with saliva so that when she spoke, she seemed to struggle to contain it all inside; her tongue swirled against the meaningless tide of words and scarcely controllable dribble that fought against each other. Was it possible without embarrassment?
 
'Public participation. Members of the public... which is at the chairman's discretion shall not exceed... shall not exceed five minutes... shall be directed to the Chairman... Now, Item 4 Minutes of the Last Meeting...'
 
Suddenly the mesmerizing spell of the Mayor's fructuous oration was disturbed. A hand was raised. 'I'd like to speak' said a member of the public pertly. 'Oh sorry', the mayor spluttered. She had apparently mesmerised even herself and forgotten about 'public participation'. 'Yes,' said the lady. 'I want to ask with respect and politeness, that the matters for discussion are conducted in the open, without the public being asked to leave. I would like to say...' She didn't get any further because the Mayor interjected. 'No, I'm sorry. That won't be possible because the business being discussed is confidential, it's legal you see'.
 
There was a little artificial argument between the mayor and the importunate lady: you see we would very much argue that since it is process, and not personal details, that are being discussed... (Interjection) No, it is legal and it is privileged so you can't be present... But don't you think the public should be allowed to know...? (Interjection) No, I'm so sorry, you must leave... But, but... (Interjection).
 
Thus 'the public' were expelled. As they filed out of the meeting room, the Mayor continued fulsomely to thank everyone for coming along while continuing to gulp back the product of her tart salivary eructations. Thank you and good night she growled warmly. Close the door after you.
 
Out in the impossibly picturesque cobbled street of timbered houses and jutting gables, a few snowflakes drifted by on the cold breeze. The Hogarthian scene was perfected. 'What's the bloody point?' said the defeated petitioner disconsolately. 'None at all,' came the reply. 'It's hopeless', said another, 'one more evening wasted'.
 
To the sound of the thin, tired strike of the quarter hour, the group parted in the gathering darkness. 
1 Comment
Private Pike
23/12/2017 12:11:26 pm

Such a well written piece of ...let's say the truth of what Ledbury has become, living day to day itself a fictional character of Charles Dickens's 1843 novella, A Christmas Carol.
So many Scrooge's to chose from themselves so wrapped up in self importance.. like a Christmas present that you can't unwrap. We discussed the pathetic self importance of the mayor and her bleating lambs behind her over dinner just last night.
Remember folks they play Russian roulette with our money not their money ours, the public us as a whole are treated like the well trodden dog sxxt that covers the streets of Ledbury.
Cllr Harvey is treated and lambasted (no pun intended if ewe know what I mean) by individuals on the " Voice of Ledbury " by the same pathetic friends of the master Scrooge herself.
There is and always has been " depends who you are attitude on VOL" it will not stand for attacks on individuals but one whole posting did that to Cllr Harvey and she was responsible for them as she belonged to Love Ledbury, folks this is the same Ledbury that Cllr Crowe started up with Cllr Harvey though she doesn't jump in to support Cllr Harvey, she seems to enjoy the endless bullying that VOL is "so much against" unless you are a friend.
The followers of these fictional characters seem to forget the tireless work Cllr Harvey did I think it was the Burage Hall, one housing developments which will affect Ledbury as a whole.
These fields of gold that are ching ching ..allegedly for the same individual who polluted the Leadon and destroyed aquatic life for the next 5 years though the £60k fine was justice.
An interesting email surfaced from the town clerk, it came from the saga of trying to extract information from the LTC website that gives like a dodgy U2 satnav " the streets have no name".
The happy clerk Karen Mitchell seems to take offence being challenged on this, I feel you should write to Karen Mitchell asking her for general information on Ledbury mainly the website she is less than friendly and does not take criticism well she puts up a wall like Trump. My friend had an interesting exchange of e-mails politely answered in a professional and friendly manner by the junior admin lady, who forwarded my friends e-mail on to the delightful Karen.
The first part is my friends asking a question, one of many Karen Mitchell failed to respond politely to, she numbered many of of the questions like he was naughty school boy bring told off.
His question to Karen - Since you failed to answer all my questions or advise reasons for being unable to address all the points raised, it gives serious misgivings into the way Ledbury Town Council is run...is every reply given the same can't be arsed response.
Her reply- I have already explained that I have a heavy workload and often Council business must take precedence. Your final comment is unacceptable and I will not address it.
Now my friend had asked a number of times questions that could not find items on the website a local IT specialist offered to provide his services, but was brushed off possibly to throw our money at a more expensive option.
It is not my friends problem that Karen Mitchell has a heavy workload, we all do at some point but why would you tell a member of the public that.
If you look at the picture hell 1485 painting by German author Hans Memling, this is picture depicts how we see LTC.
Like looking at the facts the deputy clerk left in February, an administration clerk left in the summer yet no replacements have been sought. If you had any management skills numerous recruitment agencies can source staff no additional workload on the council. They also supply temporary staff of temporary to permanent staff until the right individual is found.
Why Karen Mitchell decided to mention the fact she had a heavy workload was no concern of him at all. It just shows you the cracks of this tumbling wall, it gives you inside of this Christmas pudding with the silver penny never to be found.
LTC with medieval rules and regulations like a standing committee made up of a chosen view, it seems bizarre that ALL councillors are not in the standing committee... what have they got to hide.

It is very disappointing that Cllr Harrison and Cllr Harvey are still banned from participating in voting all over unfounded accusations of bullying.
This Hell Fire club seems intent of using our money any way it likes, its time for change the Ledbury Reporter needs to shake its self and investigate the dodgy dealings of the council perhaps its scared of losing some advertising.
Any other rag would be like a dog with a bone on the dodgy dealings of the council, but they seem to sit on the naughty step..brushing it off the step like one of Ledburys dog turds.
Folks - christmas - that magic blanket that wraps itself about us, that something so intangible that it is like a fragrance. It may weave a spell of nostalgia but enjoy yourselves with friends at family and have a happy 2018.

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