Parallel Lines

There are times when, as you look back along the river of time, you can see how one strand in your life grew out of, or was spawned by, another.  I don't have to look back far this week for just such an incidence.  A year after I joined the Liberal Democrats in 2015, I was motivated ... or inspired ... or maybe just knobbled by a strong sense of newly empowered enthusiasm and the freedom of retirement.  The outpouring of these emotions - however identified - was that I spent five or six days over a period of three weeks helping at the campaign headquarters of the LibDems in the Witney by-election, that followed the resignation of David Cameron.

A year later, when a General Election was called, I was similarly motivated, emotions this time being strengthened by an 'old school tie' dimension, helping the campaign of the daughter of one of my school-friends as she tried to win the St Albans seat for the party.  The upshot of these two expeditions was that I acquired a good idea of some of the mechanics behind an intensive political campaign.

At the end of 2016, I found myself the victim, if that's not too strong a word, of a somewhat chaotic campaign of a different kind.  For many years our church has endeavoured to put a Christmas card through the door of every dwelling in the parish.  On this particular occasion the campaign to achieve this had not been well managed and some cards that were intended to be delivered by me had found their way to someone else, who sent me a text or an e-mail - I can't remember which - as a result of which I drove across the town to collect and deliver them.  Since the day was broken, and I had little else to do, I called in the church to see if there were any more to be taken round.  I duly found some and was quickly walking around a new estate, merrily popping cards through letterboxes.

My tranquillity was shattered when, after a cordial greeting to a friend across the road, our conversation revealed that she'd delivered to those same houses that very morning!  Uncertain how this had happened, but determined that it shouldn't happen again, the following year the two of us joined forces to prepare a parish-wide plan by which a few dozen willing volunteers could be recruited to achieve the desired result with no confusion, duplication or omission.  The plan was essentially based on some of those canvassing techniques I had witnessed in operation in Witney and St Albans; our efforts were welcomed, and proved most successful.

This year, after some delay resulting no doubt from oversight, a knock-on effect of the general trying-to-do-everything situation in the vacancy between losing one vicar and getting the next, I find myself in the midst of another Christmas card 'campaign'.  The cards were finally delivered yesterday, unpacked and counted into batches of 25, ready to be bundled street by street into delivery walks for volunteers to deliver next week.  It all sounds simple and straightforward, doesn't it?  And, indeed, it has been ... compared to the chaos of former years. 

The trouble is people ... isn't it always?  They grow old, suffer accidents, illnesses and disabilities, and whereas a year ago they were enthused to walk along with a bundle of 50 or 100 cards, in and out of gateways, sometimes up flights of stairs to flats, now they would rather do 20 with a friend, or perhaps none at all.  With the first 'event' of the Christmas calendar taking place tomorrow, the cards not being bundled until tomorrow morning, and still short of fifteen volunteers, time is against us, to say the least.  But we shall give it our best shot.  More cannot be asked of us at this late stage.

Meanwhile on the parallel track, last night saw the Annual General Meeting of our local Liberal Democrat branch, when my brief spell as acting secretary ended and was replaced by a formal election to the office.  If nothing else, as I get older, suffer accidents, illnesses and disabilities, (where have I seen that phrase before?) it will keep me off the streets and away from doorsteps ...!