#Preseli #Pembrokeshire.

I was a Labour Party member, moons ago. Think I drifted because of the New Labour thing (Mandelson, the cynical centrism) but it may actually have been before that.

I reckon I’ve stayed loyal to something but would I call that Corbynism? No, not instinctively, certainly not entirely. And yet I very much wanted to go to my local town centre – Haverfordwest – and stand with those exuding comradely love, or just ‘wanting to see’.

Once there, it felt good to see the old Solva & St David’s Labour Party banner spread un-stylishly but proudly at the rear of the makeshift stage. I came away both glad that I went and with any reservations about The Campaign swept away: we must a) get the tories out and b) begin to claw back some social justice, some dignity. People, it’s just right.


It’s been a dank, grey old day. There’s a storm a-comin’ again, tomorrow, too. The will, therefore, was medium-tested.

Daughter failed the test – stayed, to continue a teenage kip. It was left to us, the Older Generation to join with the carnival.

I say carnival but this overstates the level of upfulness. Sure it was comradely and good-natured in Castle Square but things were pitched more towards what we might call like-minded solidarity than street-dancing euphoria. There is work to be done and Jeremy Corbyn is doing it.

From Swansea to Carmarthen to Haverfordwest; the last stop of another exhausting day, or so you might think. Another crowd to raise, another marginal to cover, spirits to be stirred and maybe inspired. Unforgiving; relentless; necessary.

At about 4.45 pm we hear that ‘Jeremy will be late. Because of the crowds and the travelling’. Nobody really minds but a few of us nip to the local caffeine emporium.

We return to be entertained, more or less, by several hugely worthy speakers (who speak like Ordinary-but-committed People) and by an endearingly average local musician. There are flashes of good stuff but nobody’s pretending this is anything other than the warm-up.

It’s fine that these big-hearted people are filling the gap; it’s fine that they lack the brilliance of a great, public orator. We get that they have thrust themselves forward in the knowledge that they are Orn’ary Folks, out of belief, because they want to put their shoulder to the cart, to shove, forwards. Whilst they own the stage, there is almost no sense that ego is in play; more that solidarity is being imperfectly expressed.

Inevitably local activists featured strongly in this – forgive me if I don’t namecheck them all. Inevitably, too, there were union representatives and a young bloke from Momentum who has obviously been a force even when no-one was listening. (He spoke without sufficient fluency or authority to bear his message, as did others. I don’t mean to criticise any of them; they are not career politicians or public intellectuals. They are just people who want to change things – genuine respect to them for that).

Intermittently, we hear Jezza updates. He is forty minutes a way, then nine. We must listen out for the Big Red Bus. The Withybush Event (indoors, up the road) has been cancelled because timings are out due to big crowds and long-distance travel. Those booked into the later gig will be joining us in the square: cue tribal roar.

Grace Blakeley is welcomed to the stage. My wife – being typically more informed than my good self – breaks out her ‘this will be really top’ look and we recalibrate our attention.

Ka-pow. If we needed oratory and brilliance, we got it. If we needed someone to truly articulate both the economic and moral arguments, we got it. In an outstanding, flawlessly eloquent speech lasting about twenty minutes, Grace proper-delivered.

She was spiky and clear, without being cheaply adversarial. She was intellectually plausible, whilst making an invigoratingly radical case for system change. Blakeley absolutely smashed it, in terms of communicating Ideas We Might All Recognise, whilst raising the level of discourse to edifying (and again one suspects necessary) heights. Put her in against anybody; Grace will joust superbly well for us all. She lifted us.

Back to local activists and the MC, briefly, before the bus nudges into view.

A welcome that speaks of real warmth, flecked with a smidge of adoration. The “Oh Jeremy Corbyn” bass-line sparks up, along with most of the 1500 or so voices, gathered for the visit. This isn’t, it seems, all-out love – there’s too much plain, unsexy, hard-won respect – but there is excitement and palpable warmth.

Philippa Thompson, the Labour candidate for Preseli Pembrokeshire speaks briefly first. The sound is imperfect but she does well enough and is wise enough not to ‘rattle on’ and undermine the moment. She defers to Jeremy pretty promptly – quite rightly.

(Minor but maybe important note, which I will preface by saying that with every fibre of my being I hope she can unseat the incumbent Tory, Stephen Crabb; yes-man, former careerist now shamed into bland irrelevance.

Philppa, you spoke about four words of Welsh. Take it from me, as somebody with little Welsh but with a family now full of Welsh-speakers, that your pronunciation was beyond poor. It was insulting, or would be to anyone blessed with the language – and therefore you are strongly advised to either avoid, or get immediate help with this. It really matters… & it’s such an obvious own goal for a public figure – particularly an ‘incomer’).

But now Jezza, plus more activists and more locals, joining us from the battle bus and/or that cancelled event. We have a crowd, we have The Attraction and we have goodwill.

Corbyn is good. Fluent without being schmaltzy, prepared, without being in automatic mode. If Grace Blakeley was 9.5 out of 10, Jezza is 8 plus. Because he’s not a fabulous public speaker (and this is fine!) – he’s goodish.

Corbyn, flawed like all of us, inspires quietly, more by his common decency (remember that?) than any sparkling wit, or weighty or ‘Churchillian’ intervention. By and through the epic contribution he’s made to thoroughly commendable, often unfashionable causes.

Of course many either hate him or are deeply suspicious but I’m simply not lingering there. Let’s dismiss them as either conned by the billionaire press or prejudiced by dumb acquiescence to their betters – the toffs, the tories, the Natural Leaders. Back to Jezza.

It might even be that he isn’t an elite-level intellectual, he’s merely competent-plus. And this is fine. Jezza feels cut from our cloth: he’s believable and now projected forth into believe-in-able, by circumstance. The man may need to scheme behind closed doors, but he is publicly apparently without side or ego. He could be a teacher, postie, or the bloke who shuffles papers in the council office.

He speaks well, covering ground now familiar to all of us. Social Services, Education, plans to transform towards a green economy. To his credit, despite knowing surely that the crowd might lap it up, Corbyn remains notably averse to the kind of personal attack to which he is relentlessly subjected: Johnson is barely mentioned. Instead we get sketches of the vision, the hope.

There are ‘highlights’ but this is not highly-coloured fayre: the rabble in us is not roused, is not meant to be. That wouldn’t be Jezza. Our communal sense of what is right and fair and proportionate is rather gently appealed to, or stimulated. There could be barely be a greater contrast between this man and his showy, brainy, brazenly mendacious opposite number.

I’m dealing in generalities but trying to reflect how this felt. Seeing Jeremy Corbyn address a biggish bundle of people in Haverfordwest. On the eve of an extraordinarily important election. Being no longer a Labour Party member (and I promise you, not entirely doe-eyed, when it comes to Jezza) but supportive, nevertheless – and being daft enough to remain attached to ideas around virtue, around moral imperatives.

Wow, the pull towards optimism is strong. I want the guy to go well and will be punching the bloody air if Philippa Thompson wins. And the arguments feel won after a night like this. And there were lots of people. And Corbyn was good and Blakeley was wonderful.

Too much, to be optimistic? Maybe. But whatever. This was a restorative night – a valuable night.

Our representatives.

27th Jan 2014
To our representatives at Pembrokeshire County Council,

Here’s a letter, written last night and brought on, as it were, by the public meeting held at St David’s City Hall. There, 200 people were united against what they feel to be your obvious disingenuousness re- the process towards change in Pembrokeshire schools. (For disingenuousness read illegality, in fact. The allegation will be made that your agents – as well as being involved in a wider sham – gave explicit assurances that have now been… how shall we say? Contradicted.) Which is why my letter had a furious, arguably unhelpful tone. I leave it untouched, however, on the grounds that you – our representatives – need to know how we feel about you.

This morning I know I should be calmer, less confrontational. I should be thinking that another angry letter will change nothing, will only make you bridle and ‘dig in’ to your already embattled positions. Let’s face it, you must by now be used to public humiliation. Why would you even listen to me, to us?
I have two answers to that question.
1. Because you are our representatives
2. Because we believe you have broken the law and we will root out every error and misrepresentation from Pembs County Council in this whole, tawdry affair.

Oops. That sounded a tad hostile again. Let me re-phrase.
We, the folks of the peninsula, the St David’s posse, believe significant irregularities are present in the handling of the schools issue. We believe it is criminally wrong to close Ysgol Dewi Sant. We mistrust the entire ‘consultation process’. We demand that the Council throws out the proposal to close several schools and fail to re-open Ysgol Dewi Sant in another form, on the same site. We are exploring all avenues to fight this.

Here’s my letter of last evening-

To our representatives on Pembrokeshire County Council,

Wow. You’ve excelled yourself, people. Known throughout the land for setting the bar hilariously low on matters of ethics and professionalism and integrity, you guys have engineered a tour-de-force to top the previous lamentable efforts. I refer of course to the monument to Kafkaesque lunacy that is your move towards closing umpteen schools, including the finest one in the county – Ysgol Dewi Sant. It’s an extraordinary – I say it again, even for you! – achievement.

It began of course with the spectacular all-new and hugely trumpeted ‘consultation process’ – the one where you would set new standards in inclusivity, practically cuddling all those of us who troubled to go to the public meetings arranged for ‘our voices to be heard’. They were slick, they were well choreographed and they were, as we now know, utterly irrelevant. Because erm… remarkably the upshot has been your wise men (and a particularly active wise woman, we suspect) plumping for an option that she has practised before, elsewhere. Put simply, the public have been betrayed; again.

Let me make just a little of the case for those who will now fight the Ysgol Dewi Sant corner – and my family include ourselves amongst that number. We attended a public meeting in which

a) a huge wedge of valuable time was spent through the sagacious representatives of the Education Dept and Council reminding us that this was the most comprehensive consultation process the universe had ever witnessed… and

b) the public were promised that in the event of any school closing pupils could only be transferred to a ‘better school’.
It was also said – indeed the very notion was scoffed at – that the best school in Pembrokeshire simply could not (therefore) be closed. And now look.

To be clear, I /we are saying that not only do we feel that the selective use of particular chunks of information helpful to their agenda meant the Council has made a mistake, we are clear that diabolical porkies have been told, in a public place. And there will – as there should be – serious consequences arising from this.

Minutes taken by locals who sadly through experience cannot trust the council, confirm the truth of things… and these will be part of the case against PCC.

I could go on but believe me I/we are not in the business of revealing the full inviolable force of our many arguments against you. Much powder will be kept dry as the wit and the integrity and the diverse talents amongst the St Davids community gathers itself. You, our representatives have been warned. You will never be able to regain either the trust or respect of this community; never. But you can do the right thing, this once, and consign the proposal to close Ysgol Dewi Sant to the bin.


a YDS parent.