I'm Back

If any of you have followed this blog, then you'll know that I haven't posted anything for weeks. There were two reasons for this - firstly I was working hard on a book and secondly, I felt that I had done as much as I could on the ramp and it was up to others to go with it. This they have done, but I still think that the tripartite agreement (as the ORR calls it) between Network Rail, FGW and Multi not to take down the ramp before they have proved that their lovely new scheme works will be ignored. However, before that, I will be pressing the ORR to threaten to close the station if that happens - and warning the new administration in B&NES what's happening. I expect you think they ought to know - it was clear, however, that facts were being withheld from Terry Gazzard, the Tory councillor who was supposed to be in charge of Major Developments.

However, this blog is called Kirsten Elliott looks at Bath - and I don't intend it to be a one subject blog, namely the idiocy that is being perpetrated at the station. I have decided (looking at the comments on the Chron website) that contributing to them is fairly depressing, so vituperative have the comments become. So, I'll be making my views clear on here. it would be a very strange world if people all agreed with me - my aim is just to provoke people into thinking.

We live in such interesting times at the moment, council-wise, that I think there will be plenty to talk about. But here's one of the subjects I'll be looking at during the coming days - just why this council and the last thinks they should be consulting F0BRA, a group which represents at most 4,000 residents, not all of whom agree with Henry Brown, the chairman, and referring to them as key players, when this is a city of over 85,000 residents.

Anyway, before I sign off, here's an amusing story. I was at a concert during last year's Sweetland festival, as was our esteemed former leader, Francine Haeberling. For reasons known only to himself, Thomas Trotter decided to end his concert with "Land of Hope and Glory." After a few seconds, die Fuhrerin started fidgeting in her seat and looking round. After a while she started gesticulating that we should all stand, and most did (though my husband and I didn't, just grinned wolfishly every time she glared at us.) Now, I know there's a poem about the man who couldn't tell God save the weasel from Pop goes the Queen, but how humiliating to have a leader who couldn't tell Pomp and Circumstance March No 1 from the Allelluia Chorus. Let's hope Paul Crossley is a bit more musical than that.