"Things Can Only Get Better..." (for Labour- just incase you didn't get that...)

Bugger.

Now I don't know if it was the copious amounts of Red Bull I'd had to drink, or the aching butterflies that were rocking my stomach, but I struggled to sleep last night, I really did.

The drive back to Edinburgh at 3 o'clock this morning was difficult. The announcement that John Mason had gotten 365 more votes than Margaret kept playing on my mind, like a song you hate that's on repeat in your head which you just can't stop.

I should start by congratulating him. He's not a bad man at all, and I am sure he'll be an effective MP for the people of Glasgow East. But for God's sake, Labour losing Glasgow East??

I guess that's our problem; it was always Labour and we took it for granted. When an SNP car tooted and gave the finger to me as I staggered with a heavy heart out of the pub, to put it mildly I was pretty 'annoyed'... Yes we let down Margaret and our party, but I also felt a profound sense of guilt that despite the fact the east end of Glasgow is like night and day to what it was in the late 90's, we hadn't done as much as we could have done or as much as we should have for the people who lived there.

There's no doubt in my mind that Nationalism is not what the people of Glasgow East need, and that the cause of the Labour Party is greater than any cause on which the SNP stand. However, it was them who decided, and them who spoke out. And we really need to listen to that.

We need clearer promises for people, and greater clarity on the direction of our 'moral compuss'.

However, the fact remains, that without a Scottish leader and with the most unpopular gevernment since 1918, it was always a bad time to have a by-election.

Independent Schools- Charity or Greed?

I have been wanting to blog for a while for what to me is a highly emotive issue. Sometimes when you sit on the fence it's not because you don't have an opinion on the matter, but because there are two massive forces, existent only within your mind, pulling you in two different directions. The charitable status of independent schools is for me one of them. Each side of the argument represents a large chunk of who I am. I both love and hate them at the same time.

It's a cruel dilemma for me, made even more harsh by the fact I was indeed at one of the UK's top private schools. At times like these I wish I was a Tory. It makes moral problems a lot less complicated; you just always pick the selfish one. Unfortunately my conscience puts things in a much deeper perspective. I have always been rather confused over who I am socially. I was never a sk8er (yeh- that's how you spell it...), goth, rugby guy or geek. But further than that, I was neither rich nor poor. While I was at a top fee- paying school, my father was a minister of the church in one of Edinburgh's poorest areas. I spent every Tuesday night of my life growing up with the kids in my dad's church's area. None of them had a lot. I always remember as a very young boy wondering why their hands were always dirty and their hair never combed. Games with them outside in the local area consisted of playing in abandoned garages and among the broken glass of the broken- into cars. The next morning I was back at school, with a £100 blazer, crisply ironed shirt, polished shoes and woolen socks pulled up to my knees. My friends and activities throughout the week were always quite different than they were on a Tuesday night, but never better or worse.

Those children were there at the Church's charity. One time several years ago one of those children broke into the Church. All they got away with was a couple of bottles of wine. The silver and valuables were either in the bank or locked in another room, but not that it matters. Whether they took a box of crayons or a silver communion set, the damage was done before they left. Using a foot print in playdough they had dropped on the floor, they found who did it. I'm not saying the actions of one of those kids reflected in any way what all of them would have done, but in some way it shaped a lot of my politics.

My father gave evidence in court; not against them, but for them, and advocated for them not to be punished. And it was that which shaped my politics more than I could ever imagine.

What does this have to do with private schools?- well, having a mother who was a musician, I'd been shown to have musical talent at a very young age, and my local state school which didn't even offer music at the time was not acceptable to my parents, and so I went to a private school with its own music department. After time the fees went up, and my parents faced the realisation that they were going to have to take me out. But my school were keen to keep me, and so I received money donated by others within the school to pay for my school fees. They didn't know who I was, and I didn't know their names, but they gave and donated without question or judgement, without expectation or condition, and I will always be eternally grateful for the burden they carried, and the person they helped me become. I was there by their charity, and I came to love my school. And yes I hated aspects of it. I didn't deserve it any more than any one else, but it was delivered in a way which didn't narrow opportunity but indeed widened it.

I guess I wrote all this today because I wanted you all to know that I am thinking about it. I haven't made up my mind yet, and I don't know if I ever will. I love my school, but I hate some of the things it represents.

Charitable status is nothing, really. The rich will always have choice and greater opportunity when it comes to education, even if you banned private schools. But the fact for me remains, that it takes more than just one ideological argument to close down a truly wonderful and loving educational institution; a place which showed me more charity than I have ever seen in any other part of society.

Back from France... and I brought some luggage...

Yesterday I returned from a well earned holiday. (Well, a holiday anyway...)

One of my favourite films is Chicken Run. A Boxing Day is never quite the same without it. When the lead chicken has been found trying to escape he is thrown in to solitary confinement to the horror and shared concern of the other chickens on the farm.

"Has he gone on holiday?" innocently asked one of the mothering chickens, as she looked over her knitting needles and thread.

"Nooo, Babs, he's gone into solitary confinement!" responded an extremely concerned comrade, her eyes filled with the fear of the unknown.

"Well," commented Babs, the pace of her needles remaining unaffected by the news, "It's nice to get a bit of time to yourself."

I've always thought Babs was absolutely right. Whether it's forced as it was in the poor chicken's case, or it was chosen as it was in mine, time to yourself oppresses you with nothing other than freedom itself. It's not very often I am unable to get to a newspaper or computer, but in this last week I have been, and it has forced me to think about the reasons I do what I do, and say what I say.

I heard about Wendy's resignation the day I left, and only learnt of Nichol Stephen's departure yesterday, and having had a week with no politics to worry about, I really don't mind.

There's no doubt that Wendy was unfairly forced to resign, but what has emerged from this mud, which is now crystal clear, is that the politics of politics have for too long been drowning our Parliament and public interest and debate.

I have lost interest. I struggle to care enough about what's happening in Holyrood. I care about poverty, justice, the third world, climate change, equality, and I can't remember the last time any of these issues were part of my day, part of my thoughts or part of my political concerns or realistic aims. Our party's been on the back-foot for too long now to remember the reasons we were here. And that's not completely our fault. It's a little, but not all.

It was just last week while visiting the Normandy beaches to fuel some of my deep interest in history, my Dad and I stumbled across one of the greatest places I have ever visited. The Normandy American Cemetery and Memorial was simply awesome, and I can't remember the last time I truly meant that word.

The white crosses and St David stars (for the Jewish fallen soldiers) are arranged in such a way so they are in lines and perfect rows from every angle you look at them. Officers and Privates lie side by side, and for those whose nameless bodies were found, the engraving reads, 'Here rests in honored glory, a comrade in arms, known but to God'. Behind the stunning coliseum stands a curved wall covered with names of those people whose bodies were never found. However, on the Western side of the memorial colonnade lies an inscription of President General Eisenhower, 'To these we owe the high resolve that the cause for which they died shall live'.

The time to myself was important, especially this summer, as it became increasingly clear that none of this difficult our party faces really matters. It is not a time of problems, but a time of opportunity. Because through all this, our values and the ideologies of this party should not be lost, but indeed found.