For most of my working life the second question after I say what I do for a living is: ‘So what does that involve?’
It was difficult enough to answer when I was a journalist. How do you sum up a job in which the morning may be spent listening to a politician lying before interviewing an anguished mother about her missing daughter in the kind of house where the carpet sticks to your shoes and going on to a showbiz bash where you hoover up the canapes and champagne while deciding there’s no story?
You can call it ‘varied’ if you like, but it’s a weak word.
It is just as difficult for a directly-elected mayor. Take last week
On Monday Marlies the mayoress and I were having lunch at 30 St Mary Axe in the City, otherwise known as the Gherkin. There were fabulous views from the top restaurant only available to tenants and their guests.
As soon as lunch was over it was back to Bedford by train for an informal meeting of the executive where we discussed the budget and confirmed that we had the numbers to get it through. From there I went to the parlour to thank all those who made the 30th anniversary twinning celebrations a success.
On Tuesday we had a briefing with officers for the next day’s council meeting followed by a working lunch and an afternoon of interviews with museum consultants about how best to integrate a refurbished Cecil Higgins Art Gallery with a new Museum of Bedford. No conclusion was reached and we will ask them to come up with more ideas.
On Wednesday we had a meeting with the designers previously chosen for the Museum of Bedford to discuss some of their ideas which was followed by a briefing from Nirah.
It was also council budget day, the most important meeting of the year. The budget met with the approval of Labour, Conservatives and Independents. The Lib-Dems didn’t argue, just voted against. Unusually for me, I had written my speech because there were a number of points I wanted to be sure to get across.
A long cherished project of mine is to run some council vehicles on recycled cooking oil. On Thursday, after five years of being told it couldn’t be done, I met a firm which was doing just that. It collected used cooking oil from restaurants, canteens and takeaways, purified the vegetable oils and used it in its vehicles. One of the reasons always offered as to why we couldn’t do it was that it would invalidate the warranty on new vehicles. Apparently Cummings, the biggest make of diesel engines in Britain, guarantees its engines for use with all forms of biodiesel.
The sad thing is that when I first broached this we would have been ahead of the game. Now so many people are processing used cooking oil it is becoming a valuable commodity in its own right.
The next meeting was about twinning and the possibility of a travelling trade exhibition to go to Bamberg, Rovigo and some other towns. It will take a lot of organising and is unlikely to happen before 2009 at the earliest, but Bedford has some surprising commercial stories to tell.
That evening Marlies and I went back to London for a symphony by 20th century composer Messaien at the Royal Festival Hall. I had previously asked my musical mentor Michael Blackledge what to expect. He gave a dry chuckle and said I wouldn’t come out humming any tunes but I would hear some interesting sounds. He was right. The symphony, all 90 minutes of it, is played without a break but wasn’t as bad as I had feared. At the end a packed hall roared their approval so long I was afraid the orchestra would perform an encore, possibly a work by the recently late Karl Heinz Stockhausen in which case I would have no choice but to commit suicide. Fortunately the orchestra wanted its supper
Next day I had a discussion with a landscape architect about the need for green space in the Town Centre West redevelopment. I advised him to talk to the developer and architects at the next town centre exhibition in April.
On to Castle Quay to perform the topping out ceremony for the long-awaited development in Castle Lane.
On Saturday after a meeting about unitary government (Ho, hum) to Tooting Bec Lido where my elder daughter Naomi was one of the organisers of the World Cold Water Swimming Championships as well as one of the entrants. She won her heat - if that’s not the wrong word when the water is a chilly five degrees.
We hurtled back to Bedford to don evening dress for the annual Trinacria charity ball, held by Bedford’s Sicilian community. I had to draw the ticket for the top prize in the raffle - a new Fiat 500 worth £8,000. The winner was gobsmacked.
The week ended on Sunday when Marlies and I planted the millionth tree in the Marston Vale community forest after which I went home to watch the Italy England match (depressing - what goes on in the English dressing room at half time?) before settling down to write this blog.
I don’t say it’s like this all the time - I doubt if I would have survived five years as directly-elected mayor if it was - but over two or three weeks it would be a not untypical answer to the question with which I started this entry.