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RICH HADLEY

Thinking around.

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When Do You Have To Tell The Truth?

28/3/2018

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Picture“There comes a time when one must take a position that is neither safe, nor politic, nor popular, but he must take it because conscience tells him it is right.” Martin Luther-King

Is it possible to be too fair? Or too procedurally correct?

A week before the postponed judicial review, a ‘review panel’ was held to decide if Andrew Harrison’s banning from town council duties should continue.  

While the affirmative outcome was foregone, Andrew and accompanying fellow councillor Nina Shields were much surprised by their treatment.

Previous reviews have consisted of mainly hostile, fellow town councillors (the crux of the judicial review).  To make things look better in court, the council was advised by its eminent legal counsel, Ms Lisa Busch QC, that in reviewing Andrew’s behaviour, the panel should include two ‘independent’ persons, alongside two town councillors, and an ‘independent’ clerk (ie, not Lynda Wilcox). To make it even ‘fairer’, all the evidence presented to the panel should be provided in advance. This would enable Andrew Harrison to consider his response.

The town council’s very own Queen’s Counsel will be frustrated to learn that it didn’t go to plan. The aggrieved clerk, Karen Mitchell, said she would not submit her written evidence against Andrew Harrison in advance, in case he published it online. Andrew went into the review without knowing what he had done wrong, or what he should do in future to escape a ban.

The review panel was perfunctory. On entering, Andrew was told by chairman, Cllr Fred Clarke, Mayor of Bromyard, that he had ten minutes. While Andrew spoke, former police officer and freemason, Fred spent a lot of time looking at his watch impatiently and sighing heavily, a psychological trick he had learned softening up villains in the interview room. At the appointed moment, Right Said Fred: time’s up, snapping his file shut and sweeping imperiously out of the room.

What happened next is less clear. The review panel went into conference and at some point gave a report to the town council’s Standing Committee.

At the next full council meeting, the Standing Committee’s recommendation was for Cllr Harrison’s ban to continue. They claimed that they were acting ‘within the principles’ of the report from the review panel.

This is classic ‘easterly beast’ phraseology, full of portent, and meaning the clear opposite of what it says. Translated into plain English, the Standing Committee had completely ignored the Review Panel’s recommendations. When Andrew asked to see the report into his conduct, he was told it was ‘confidential’.

Panel members, including local curate, the Reverend Tony Hodder, have signed legal confidentiality statements and claim that they are sworn to secrecy on all aspects of the review panel and its outcomes.


Could the priest offer theological guidance on whether the eighth commandment allows you to turn a blind eye to injustice, the one that says 'thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour'? Exactly how serious are sins of omission? When you have put yourself into a situation where injustice is likely to occur and damage to an innocent party is clear, do you have a duty speak up for the victim? These are interesting moral philosophical questions.

Let’s recap. The judicial review is in part, challenging Ledbury Town Council’s procedural unfairness in the way that it banned two councillors. The Council are arguing strongly that the bannings, which were clearly called ‘sanctions’ in the May 2017 minutes, were scrupulously fair.  Now, after counsel advice, the word ‘sanctions’ has been substituted for ‘protective measures’, far more defensible they believe. Meanwhile, the claimed ‘even fairer’ process was not only botched, but was ultimately ignored by the Standing Committee presidium of Crowe, Fieldhouse, Barnes, Francis and Bradford.

You have to smile at the London lawyer’s innocence that Ledbury Town Council would ever conduct itself in a judicious fashion. Their frustration will soon dissipate when the next dollop of cash from Ledbury pings into the coffers of Winkworth Sherwood Ltd.

​Who cares if the town council is doing its
damnedest to lose the judicial review? Not the lawyers, nor the town councillors, it’s not their money they’re squirting up the wall. All told, the ‘fight Harvey’ legal bill now tops £100 thousand.   

Charades anyone? Or perhaps a game of consequences?

​
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The best laid schemes o' mice an' men

28/3/2018

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PictureLedbury's Big Day Out.
​Celebratory champagne and a precautionary police presence had been laid on for the council party, sorry Council Meeting on 1 March.
This was the evening following on from Liz Harvey’s judicial review at Bristol High Court.  Councillors and town council staff were all happy expectation leading up to the ‘Big Day’ as they called it. How auspicious that the ‘JR’ coincided with a Council meeting: wouldn’t it be marvellous to announce victory? Police were needed in case protesting members of the public disrupted the party, sorry meeting.


Late to court, the quartet of Ledbury Defenders created a fascinating sight in the smart surroundings of the Bristol Civil Justice Centre. In his trainers, Bob Barnes padded across the polished floor noiselessly, followed by lumbering 'Mucky' Martin Eager looking fresh from some gardening; Town clerk, Karen Mitchell, shone of course, all in brown. Some moments later, the Lynda ‘Your Council’ Wilcox arrived, delayed in the loo by a quick protective coat of fresh lacquer. Was it me or could you hear that perfectly coiffed bob creaking as she hastened to a far corner, trying hard not to disturb the judge who evidently hadn’t noticed her.

It was unfortunate that a late blizzard caused an adjournment of the hearing, especially after they had come all this way.  It also meant the party, sorry council meeting, would also be postponed. Double drat.

Aside from the lurking Beast from the East, optimism for a Ledbury Spring among the merry band of town councillors led by Crowe and Fieldhouse, was always likely to be misplaced: judgements in judicial review are rarely determined on the day of the hearing. Unlike some Ledbury town councillors, judges tend to be cautious, preferring to weigh all the evidence before making a decision. Crowe’s bottle of cheap bubbly will have to stay on ice for a while longer.

The new date for the hearing is April 17 in Cardiff. Pob lwc Ledbury!

​

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The Prime of Miss Jean Simpson

28/3/2018

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PictureJean Simpson: for those who like that sort of thing, that is the sort of thing that they like.


When is a resignation not a resignation? When it's from Ledbury Town Council. 

Her spell as a councillor passed all too quickly. It is now over six weeks since Jean Simpson resigned from Ledbury Town Council - but you’d have hardly noticed.

The predictable spin coming out of the Council was that she had been ‘bullied’ out of office by Liz Harvey and her entourage. Being a ‘lovely lady’, she couldn’t take the abuse, so it was said.

The truth of course is different. Details now emerge of rancourous exchanges in the Ledbury Civic Society of which Simpson was a board director.  

It seems that ex-councillor Simpson’s claim at a recent meeting that ‘if the neighbourhood plan fails, it will be Liz Harvey’s fault’, was met with irritation. As the Civic Society prefers to maintain the appearance of political neutrality, the lady was harshly reprimanded and asked to think about her position. Too much for brittle Jean, she resigned both from the Civic Society and the town council, against the pleading of her steadfast chums Annette Crowe and Elaine Fieldhouse: ‘Don’t go Jean, it’s just a passing squall. Hang in there. Look at us. We’re weathering everything.’ Lacking the heft of Betty and Joan, the disgraced lady isn’t made of such strong stuff as the other two dames.  

After her by-election win eighteen months ago, Simpson’s star burned bright in the council firmament and she was tipped for election to be Mayor in the final session before the 2019 elections. Now with her unexpected exit, the Gang of Four (Crowe, Fieldhouse, Barnes and Eager) have been scratching their heads for a replacement. Neither Francis nor Manns want to be mayor, and young Eakin is seen by them as too unreliable. So it’s time for plan B. Again. Ledbury’s ‘team Hamilton’ is back. Barnes for mayor, and Crowe for deputy, both smiling liars.  

What is puzzling is why it took so long for the town council to let Herefordshire Council know of Simpson’s resignation so that an election could be called. When asked in a Council meeting why this had not happened, Elaine ‘slippery jack’ Fieldhouse explained that the resignation had been sent in error to the Town Clerk and not to her as mayor; actually therefore, Simpson hadn’t ‘technically’ resigned.
‘So… until I’ve been officially notified, there’s nothing I can do.  Our hands are tied’ she said sweetly, popping another cherry bon-bon into her lipsticked mouth defiantly.

Aren’t they rascals? The mayor communes with the clerk several times per day, but even so, the departure of their fleeting best friend wasn’t mentioned.
​

The cynics are already saying the delay was crafted to push the election back beyond the next Annual Council meeting in May when the Mayor and Deputy are elected. Yet another newly elected dissident voice in the town council, another ally of Liz Harvey no doubt, could create obvious problems. But how could this be? Aren’t there rules which are supposed to govern such things?


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Nature Corner: A Winter's Tale

26/3/2018

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Picture


Continuing our occasional series examining wonders of the natural world, we ask: who is this 'beast from the east'? 

Each winter, weather watchers spend hours poring over the charts and models looking for signs of an intense cold spell. Tabloid newspapers also enjoy ramping the excitement, forecasting “snowmaggedon” and months of “arctic hell”.  Their prognostications mostly come to nothing, and the dank weather paddles along in its customarily dreary rut.

Despite our northerly latitude, an oceanic climate at the end of a warm sea current mean that the British Isles usually enjoy damp, mild, windy winters, and summers, and springs. It’s what we are happy bemoaning, and it keeps our fields green.

Just occasionally, something remarkable happens, and all the usual certainties and banalities are upended. At the other side of the planet, a butterfly might beat its wing and cause an eddy. One thing leads to another, and before long a mighty Pacific current, greater far than a thousand Amazons, reverses its direction; particularly warm or cold water floods east, and everything in the jungle basin is upset: droughts, floods, wild-fires, uncustomary cold and heat, and the effects ripple outwards into Africa, Euroasia, Australia: the earth’s climate reels.

In our own hemisphere, these huge forces perturb the delicate interplay of Atlantic warmth and Arctic cold. In winter, an intense high pressure over Scandinavia might form, greeted with joy and excitement by the weather nerds. This rare Scandi-High presages punishing conditions locally with snow and icy winds whipping up blizzards, spectacular snow drifts and lethal freezing rain.  It is called the Beast from the East. The effect is phenomenal, but the impacts are always personal: cancelled appointments, frustrated meetings, a shortage of supplies, and everywhere travel plans sent into chaos.

The Beast is a sly minx, quietly lurking most of the year somewhere in the tundral wastes of outer Siberia. All it takes is for the conditions to be favourable, and out she screams, turning everything in her path to shattering ice. Nor does she respect the usual rules of the weather, but reminds everyone in defiance of their eyes, that this is all perfectly normal. Remember 1947, or 1963, or 1982?  Britain at its finest.
​

‘Your climate’, she says portentously, ‘has decided to deflect all its usual stormy activity far south over Spain so that you can enjoy a period of glacial paralysis. There will be persistent snow and deep frost, even during this spring period. The misery is all perfectly within the bounds of statistical normalcy.’

The infuriating thing about the Beast from the East is that while she is well forecast to arrive, it is uncertain when she will depart. In a good winter, the iciness can last for weeks or months; or, just when you think you’ve done with her, she might send repeated frigid glances interspersed with spells of unsettling mildness. She can stay through summer, visiting drought and polluted air over our benighted shores, but always accompanied by that nagging, unpleasant nip when she shows her face.

She is a force of nature. Unpredictable, untamed, and unloved, except by the enthusiasts who thrill to her ruthless demands. ‘Your weather will do exactly what it pleases’, she says bending them over and giving them another smarting thwack across their fleshy behinds. ‘Oh you lovely beast,’ they shudder, ‘life would be so dull without you’.

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