The Lib Dems are already preparing to do battle at conference

While Clegg remains determined to drag the Lib Dems to the centre ground, the left of the party wants a divorce from Osbornomics.

It being summer, when the world’s thoughts turn to the key questions of the day, such as why does the unseasonably hot weather make the trains late and when will the royal baby turn up, in Lib Dem land we’re all mentally skipping July and August and embracing the advent of conference season. Yeah, really. Trust me, it will be Christmas before you know it.

While its unlikely that we’ll achieve the chart topping heights of last year's conference (don’t tell me you’ve forgotten already), Glasgow 2013 looks like being a classic and everyone seems determined to get their retaliation in early. On the one hand, we have the party establishment, determined to make us look like a party of government, owning the last three years' agenda and decrying the politics of protest. On the other, we have left of the party, equally determined to divorce ourselves from Osbornomics and make big eyes at Labour (Lib Dem members currently favour a 2015 coalition with Labour over one with the Tories by a majority of 2:1). Of course, there is the odd policy – like Trident – where we’ll be shouting 'a plague on both your houses'….

Meanwhile, we read Nick is preparing to frog march us kicking and screaming into the centre ground of politics, which is a bit rum, really, seeing as he was doing the same last December, and in September 2012, and indeed September 2011. If he spends much more time marching us into the centre we’ll be through the other side before you know it…let’s not give him any ideas.

So, dust ups left, right, and centre (figuratively at least) loom large and some of the joy looks set to return to conference. Votes at Lib Dem conference really mean something – party policy and manifesto content still does get debated and agreed and people really do hold the leadership to account. And that’s all going to kick off in just a few weeks' time.

So as MPs go off on their summer holidays, Lib Dem members are polishing their weapons of choice and dreaming of the leaves turning brown. Glasgow 2013 promises to be a bit of cracker.

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

He's behind you, Nick. Photograph: Getty Images.

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

Photo: Getty
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What happened when a couple accidentally recorded two hours of their life

The cassette tape threw Dan and Fiona into a terrible panic.

If the Transformers series of movies (Transformers; Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen; Transformers: Dark of the Moon; Transformers: Age of Extinction; and Transformers: the Last Knight) teach us anything, it is that you think your life is going along just fine but in a moment, with a single mistake or incident, it can be derailed and you never know from what direction the threat will come. Shia LaBeouf, for example, thinks everything is completely OK in his world – then he discovers his car is a shape-shifting alien.

I once knew a couple called Dan and Fiona who, on an evening in the early 1980s, accidentally recorded two hours of their life. Fiona was an English teacher (in fact we’d met at teacher-training college) and she wished to make a recording of a play that was being broadcast on Radio 4 about an anorexic teenager living on a council estate in Belfast. A lot of the dramas at that time were about anorexic teenagers living on council estates in Belfast, or something very similar – sometimes they had cancer.

Fiona planned to get her class to listen to the play and then they would have a discussion about its themes. In that pre-internet age when there was no iPlayer, the only practical way to hear something after the time it had been transmitted was to record the programme onto a cassette tape.

So Fiona got out their boom box (a portable Sony stereo player), loaded in a C120 tape, switched on the radio part of the machine, tuned it to Radio 4, pushed the record button when the play began, and fastidiously turned the tape over after 60 minutes.

But instead of pushing the button that would have taped the play, she had actually pushed the button that activated the built-in microphone, and the machine captured, not the radio drama, but the sound of 120 minutes of her and Dan’s home life, which consisted solely of: “Want a cup of tea?” “No thanks.” And a muffled fart while she was out of the room. That was all. That was it.

The two of them had, until that moment, thought their life together was perfectly happy, but the tape proved them conclusively wrong. No couple who spent their evenings in such torpidity could possibly be happy. Theirs was clearly a life of grinding tedium.

The evidence of the cassette tape threw Dan and Fiona into a terrible panic: the idea of spending any more of their evenings in such bored silence was intolerable. They feared they might have to split up. Except they didn’t want to.

But what could they do to make their lives more exciting? Should they begin conducting sordid affairs in sleazy nightclubs? Maybe they could take up arcane hobbies such as musketry, baking terrible cakes and entering them in competitions, or building models of Victorian prisons out of balsa wood? Might they become active in some kind of extremist politics?

All that sounded like a tremendous amount of effort. In the end they got themselves a cat and talked about that instead. 

This article first appeared in the 20 July 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The new world disorder