A Tale of Two Voters

My dad turned 70 last year. He’s a lifelong right-wing staunch Tory who completes The Telegraph crossword daily. As you may expect he’s very traditional; he was and still is the epitome of a very anti-liberal parent (and grandparent). To me he’s an enigma, yet I have a sneaking suspiscion he’s a working class soul trapped in a middle class body. Him and his wife split their time between Yorkshire and France, where he’s still climbing on roofs doing up their converted barn.

No Going Back

The small, now defunct, local authority at which I started my career had a room termed “the bunker”; a veritable treasure trove of dusty government papers, untouched by data laws, hidden behind large metal locked doors. For young apprentices like me, a shift in the bunker was like some sort of initiation. It was here we found old sets of 1970s committee minutes.