The Daily Novel

The early morning sun has picked out a curvy green plastic chair to be the focus of my attention. The sun shines on the arched back making it stand out from the green grass and the green leaved trees. If only I were a poet I could go on in this vein. But at least I can refer you to The Lime Tree Bower written by Samuel Taylor Coleridge, which had a lot about sunlight dappling through the trees.

That poem was written in the 1790’s. I am sitting on the doorstep of a Welsh cottage near Fishguard in 2006. Co-incidentally I can hear Holly’s voice reading from the guidebook. ‘Fishguard was the scene of the last invasion of mainland Britain. In February, 1797, around 2,500 French troops landed in a cove near Goodwick. The French were spotted by a group of local ladies, dressed in black with red shawls and tall black hats and were mistaken by the French as being English soldiers.’

Readers can sleep easily in their beds. If Bin Laden lands tomorrow at Fishguard the Jones family will be ready for him. Yesterday in Cardigan little Joe acquired a sword, a dagger and a bow and arrows. He is most taken by the bow and arrows. Clearly the blood of the British archers at Agincourt flows through his veins. If we train him up today he will be ready to stop Bin Laden in his tracks, impaling him with the plastic plungers at the end of his three arrows.

You may think that I write in jest. But this is a serious blog. And in the 1790s Coleridge, Wordsworth and the other Romantic poets were fighting to make the world safe for democracy. They were enthused by the spirit of the French revolution which had overthrown the French monarchy with it’s ‘let them eat cake’ political slogan. They hailed the new dawn just as enthusiastically as Labourites ushered in the Blairite third way in 1997.

By 1797 the romantic poets were beginning to have their doubts. Reports from Paris revealed that the revolutionary politicians had become drunk with power. In between squabbling amongst themselves they were imposing an official terror regime that was far worse than anything the Bourbon kings had thought up. A bit like Manchester 2006 where new Labour is justifying its new police power to combat the forces of evil even at the extent of violating our civil liberties. They remain blissfully unaware that the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan are increasingly unpopular with the electorate. And that people are getting increasingly alarmed at the way the government’s rhetoric is alienating British muslims. No-one likes politicians who tell electors how they should bring up their children.

Behind the scenes in Manchester it is a different story; politicians stabbing themselves in the back and in the front. (The Blairites and the Brownites could have run rings around the Jacobins.) It is, of course, the behind the scenes events which have made the front pages of today’s newspapers. While Gordon Brown was making his bid for power with a thoughtful keynote speech, a reporter was in the same room as Cherie Blair, the wife of the prime minister. According to the reporter, when Brown got reached his climax, Cherie exploded: ‘that’s a lie’. Seven hours later Cherie denied having said any such thing, but by then the journalists had sent the quote around the globe, and it still dominated today’s newspapers.

Brown’s speech had become a public relations disaster. And we are going to see futher speculation over the next few days, weeks and months about which other Labour leader would be better than Brown. I am not going to speculate on possible names. I am going to return to events in 1797 in Fishguard.

The French army was quickly routed. The hero of the day was a heroine. ‘Armed with only a pitchfork, Jemima Nicholas detained’ one group of French soldiers. The French formally surrendered in the Royal Oak pub and Jemima was given a bravery medal and a lifetime pension.

Jemima showed the local lads that women could be effective leaders. This week in Manchester, 209 years later, none of the serious contenders for the job of Prime Minister is female.

That’s progress for you, folks.