Regular readers of this column, if there are any, will have to come to appreciate my curmudgeonly nature, and general dislike of my fellow man. You will be as shocked then as I was to discover that I attended the Goodricke JCRC election hustings a few weeks ago. My shock grew when I discovered that I was rather enjoying the experience. There was politics, there was heckling and, at one point, I sensed a duel in the offing, though this, sadly, never materialised.
It made me long for a return to the first year, that I might be part of this vibrant campus community, and filled me with a zeal for the cut and thrust of politics. I didn’t vote of course, it gets dark awfully quickly at this time of year, but the thought was there.
It occurs to me that there are few times in life, unless you are the child of a millionaire, a politician, or, ideally, both, when you have such a good chance to stand for election and win.
You may, in your dotage, become treasurer of the bridge club, but I doubt there’s quite the same rush of adrenalin. I’ve missed the JCRC elections, but the Union elections are just around the corner. Who’s with me? Please ensure all campaign donations are placed in a brown paper envelope, in my hand, in Derwent car park.