I have been to eight meetings in the East Anglia region. I have been to Cambridge and Ipswich and
somewhere called Colchester. I have
taken six train journeys and eleven taxi journeys. One of the taxi drivers got grumpy with me
because all I had was a street name and number and I had inconsiderately not
bothered to print out a Google map, a full grid reference and a colour photograph of
the building I was aiming for.
Eventually we agreed that since he was a taxi driver, and I was a
passenger, and since my suitcase was in his boot, it was perhaps worth having a
little go at finding my destination. He
took me straight to the door.
I used to be a very British kind of tipper, figuring that
the more rudely I was treated, and the more awkward I felt, the larger the tip I
should pay to compensate for the stress and inconvenience I had caused. Today I realised the error of my ways. It was a most liberating feeling.
Everyone - apart from the aforementioned taxi driver - has been friendly, and everyone has said it is nice
that someone from Council has made the effort to come to see them because now
they don’t need to make the effort to come to see us. They have also told me to get my finger out
to make sure regulation is proportionate and they have made many useful
suggestions which I have written down in my special seditious notebook. Some day soon, when I am feeling particularly
mischievous, I will put all these suggestions together into a massive report
for Council.
But now I am on my way home to Zummerzet, exhausted. And I still haven’t written that speech.
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