(PS, Mart, may I worship you please? You've had me crying with laughter)Yeah, my wife does that, reasonably sure it's laughter, touch and go on the worship front though.
I don't volunteer for anything, I find by the end of the working week I am bolloxed and it's as much as I can do to keep on top of the allotment, get the side panel back on the bath now I've fixed the seal, stay on top of the garden, think some more about decorating the living room and kitchen, eat, sleep and try and get my sodding back sorted out so people will stop calling me Quasimodo. We're onto acupuncture now but apparently I'm a low reactor with a high pain threshold, which on the one hand proves I'm a proper man, but on the other means the NHS is confident I can wait just an ickle bit more.
I think Tobes is right (that's one for the diary).
First problem is the name, political types do have a habit of coming up with some right soppy names, I think it stems from the aversion to every day language, I'm not saying you should have called it Feckin Swindon, but One Swindon, and that's on top of C3PO and Touching Communities in Strange Ways, I mean it's a bit, well, limp. I bet the meeting where it was named was a cracker of a meeting when they dreamt that one up, wall covered with Post It notes, flip charts and all manner of high jinks.
Then there are the movers and shakers, I mean think about what might have caused some of Swindon's residents some mental chafing over the last 18 months, then consider the identities of those responsible for shovelling the sand into the crotch of my pants of life and yup, the usual suspects are all there.
And that's your problem.
Until you have a bit of a cull you are starting any initiative, no matter how worthy, from a position of distinct disadvantage. People look at the list, yawn, and think 'Here we go again', or in my case, 'There you go again'.




