The Lib Dems need to decide what they really stand for

After Cable's intervention, the party needs to resolve its policy differences.

Oh dear, there’s a bit of a barney going on over here in the Lib Dems. Over the weekend, Vince Cable made some mildly ambitious comments alluding to the fact that should a vacancy ever arise (and should he be given the opportunity), he probably could make a half decent fist of running the Lib Dems. He’s probably right, too.

Now I think Vince is at that stage of his career when he more often than not takes the view, "stuff it, I’ll say what I think", which is a pleasant change from the norm. I seem to remember Ken Clarke making similar noises a few years back, pointing out the lunacy of trying to pretend you had no ambitions to lead your party. But predictably, many in the media  - and the Conservative Party - have jumped on this as the start of a Lib Dem civil war as Vince mounts an "attack" on Nick. "Of course he knew what he was doing", goes the cry, "he’s an experienced politician and he understands ‘the code".

This has the potential to be especially problematic for the Lib Dems, as the party wrestles to find its soul. This is often poorly defined as left vs. right, social liberals vs. Orange Bookers (Vince is usually placed in the former camp, with folk conveniently forgetting he contributed a chapter to The Orange Book), or even grassroots vs. parliamentary party. Of course, none of these descriptions truly fit.

But it does expose the need in the party to start resolving some of its positions, defining firm policy, and preparing for 2015. The differentiation strategy may have kicked off in June 2011, but I’m not convinced many people have noticed. Without this, the party will lack direction, and the discontent will manifest itself in questions over the leadership. The party is undoubtedly split over this. A poll on my own blog had a tiny majority for a change in leader before 2015, a larger Lib Dem Voice poll went the other way (no doubt aided by the question essentially being framed as, "do you agree with Lembit that we need a new leader?") And as things stand, whenever this issue comes up and someone expresses any ambition in the future, vitriol will be poured on their head from a large, internally held, bucket.

So starting with the party conference in September, we must formulate and agree some firm policy agendas. This, more than anything else, will tell us who we think the right person to present those policies to the electorate is – Nick or someone else. An open debate about the policies and philosophy we wish to present to the world is the first step down that road. And then we can concentrate on doing the important stuff. Arguing over whether our senior politicians have the right express ambition or not seems like a bit of a side issue. However much fun it may be ...

Nick Clegg's leadership is under growing criticism from Liberal Democrat members. Photograph: Getty Images.

Richard Morris blogs at A View From Ham Common, which was named Best New Blog at the 2011 Lib Dem Conference

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The hidden joy of charity shops

Mary saw her colleagues at the charity shop every day, but she didn't tell them she was sleeping on the 31 bus.

Camden is a bric-a-brac kind of place – market stalls, blaring music, occasional offers of weed. But the back room of the Sue Ryder charity shop on Parkway is immaculate, with hooped petticoats waiting to be steamed and crockery stacked neatly on the shelves. I’ve come to talk to the shop’s manager, Oya, and one of her volunteers, Mary*, and they are waiting for me with milky tea and chocolate-chip cookies.

Mary is nervous. She is afraid of having her real name printed. “It’s shaming to tell you my story but I believe if I tell people at the right time, good things will happen,” she says. Now in her fifties, she arrived in Britain four years ago from Italy, without friends or savings, having left her husband. The jobcentre gave her an Oyster card and told her to volunteer at a charity shop to improve her English. “So we put her on the tills,” says Oya. “That’s what we do with anyone who gets sent to us to learn English.”

But Mary had a secret. She couldn’t find anywhere to live, so every afternoon, when she finished her shift at the shop, she would go to the jobcentre and laugh and joke with the staff there to cover up the reality that she didn’t have anywhere else to go. When the jobcentre closed, she would ride the 31 bus through the night, from White City to Camden and back again. It was the best way to stay warm. Then, every morning, she would arrive at the shop early, brush her teeth in the staff bathroom and change into fresh clothes – washed in a friend’s hostel room. No one else knew.

The charity Crisis calls people such as Mary “the hidden homeless” and says that it is almost impossible to estimate how many of them there are in Britain today. Most homeless people don’t qualify for accommodation in shelters but eke out their time shuttling between friends’ sofas, insecure rented accommodation, bed and breakfasts or sleeping rough on the streets.

Eventually, the shop manager – Oya’s predecessor – asked Mary what was wrong and her story tumbled out. Between them, with help from the jobcentre staff, Mary found a studio flat and moved from volunteering on the tills to working at a nearby convenience store, where she is now a supervisor. Both she and Oya have to stop to reach for tissues while telling me this story. “Sue Ryder is my family,” says Mary. “Sometimes I want to cry but there are no tears left. And Allah would be angry if I dared to cry now, with all that I have.”

Despite having a paid job, Mary still volunteers at the charity shop on Friday mornings. She leaves at 3pm to work the evening shift at the convenience store. She and Oya are firm friends outside work. Mary brings in home-cooked lasagne for Oya and her daughter – “She says, ‘Eat some tonight, freeze the rest for Ella’” – and Oya invites her round and cooks her Turkish food on Friday nights. “She’ll say working here saved her life,” says Oya. “I’ll say I made a friend for life.”

The reason I’m here is a selfish one. Volunteering for a charity is the perfect antidote to a culture that can often feel mercenary, cynical and ruthlessly individualistic. I wish more people did it. I’m also here because in December, I wrote a piece defending charities from accusations that many do not turn every penny of donations into outlay on their projects. But running charity shops requires upfront investment – on electricity, rent and wages – so it’s too simplistic to demand that all the money they receive should go straight back out of the door.

That article prompted the management of Sue Ryder, which operates 457 shops with 12,000 volunteers, to get in touch and invite me in. Some of their volunteers, like Mary, need to learn English and other skills before they can get a paying job; some are serving prison sentences; others are youngsters sent unwillingly by their schools for work experience. (Jackie, who now manages one of the charity’s shops in Aberdeen, had previously been imprisoned three times.)

Not that everything is rosy in the charity shop back room. Oya says that some people use them as a “dumping ground”. I tell her that I once read a story about a donation of tights that had a used sanitary towel still stuck to the crotch and they nod: “We had that.” Oya is very proud, however, that the store “doesn’t smell like a charity shop”.

As well as providing jobs and raising money, stores such as this one provide a useful social barometer. There are around 9,000 charity shops in the UK and their number rose 30 per cent in the five years following the financial crash of 2007. Since then, the economic downturn has increased trade significantly. Last year at the shop in Camden, the number of donation bags increased by 52 per cent and takings went up by 8 per cent, yielding a net profit of £65,000.

In Camden, close to chichi Mornington Crescent and Primrose Hill, the donations can be eyewateringly expensive (recent finds include a £1,200 clarinet and a £980 Prada handbag), while the cheapest brands stocked are Marks & Spencer and Next. “More people are charity shopping,” says Oya. “And not the people you’d expect. They’re suited and booted. Sometimes they’re famous.” Mention is made of an EastEnders actress spotted in the store.

Because of her work, Oya has been invited to a garden party at Buckingham Palace on 12 June and naturally she is taking Mary. A trip to buy hats is coming up and their enthusiasm is infectious. Here in the back room of a north London charity shop, as the three of us – a Turkish-British Muslim, an Eritrean-Italian Muslim and plain old white agnostic me – drink milky tea, I feel the most British I have all year. These guys really love the Queen. And they love being friends. Stepping out into the sunshine, my overwhelming feeling is: maybe we’re all going to be OK.

*Her name has been changed

Helen Lewis is deputy editor of the New Statesman. She has presented BBC Radio 4’s Week in Westminster and is a regular panellist on BBC1’s Sunday Politics.

This article first appeared in the 19 May 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The Great Huckster