Party Conference season: Vital equipment.
It’s Friday, and the party conference season beckons. One or two of you may have already been in Liverpool for the TUC, and there is quite a little community of people that have to go to all of them.
For some councillors, this may be their first proper look at how their party works. My own tip is to find out where the journalists are hanging out and to go there – it’s a lot easier to get bought a drink under those circumstances, that’s where the gossip can be had and the movers-and-shakers can be found.
If you haven’t got your accomodation booked already, I’m afraid you’re in for a few hours commuting each day. And if you haven’t got your pass yet, expect at least six hours queuing.
If you have got digs, remember that high expectations lead to disappointment. A rumour went around the Labour Party in the mid-1990s that Blackpool would not be hosting any more of their conferences because Peter Mandelson was told that he shouldn’t have stirred his tea if he didn’t like sugar in it.
Also, prepare for a bout of ‘conference flu’ on Tuesday or Wednesday morning. A good fry-up will either kill or cure this ailment, and every chemist within walking distance will be sold-out of Resolve.
Note: Bring your own packet from home
But for now, if you’ve not got anything better to do, you can nip over and read my friend Sadie’s Dean’s guide to bag-carrying at party conferences. And here’s some advice for MPs (much of it transferrable to councillors) on how to deal with a new enthusiasm for teh interwebs. The rest of Dean’s guides are here, the slightly less serious part of the Working for an MP website W4mp.
Final advice: Here’s a warning from the past about what sort of thing you may see if you go to a disco at a party conference.
You have been warned.
