Gosh, the Conservative Club in Brislington is efficient. It was only on Wednesday that my father and I trouped in to complete his application. On Thursday another visit as Dad thinks the Cider is cheap and enjoys a place where the only newspaper is the Sun and with cricket on the TV.
By Saturday an email arrives and he is in. He did not even need to attest to having conservative values.
At the funeral of my step mother yesterday among those attending was her old friend Red Trousers. That is to say the car hating mad lefty former Mayor of Bristol, George Ferguson. Red Trousers is glad to hear that my father will be spending some time with us in Bristol and says he love to join us for a drink. At my father's club I say? Of course says Ferguson.