Becoming a grandad, how to enjoy Labour conference and my mate the Prime Minister

Westminster appears to have just discovered the north

Andy Burnham and Steve Rotheram addressing the media in Manchester in 2016. Photo by Christopher Furlong/Getty Images

There are some things in politics you never really expect to see. I guess your mate becoming Prime Minister is fairly high on the list.

Andy and I were elected as mayors in 2017 and have spent much of the time since making a nuisance on behalf of the north. We’ve campaigned together, argued together and sat through enough meetings about “levelling up” to last several lifetimes.

We’ve had plenty of friendly disagreements too. Anyone who knows Andy will know he isn’t short of an opinion or two. He’d probably say the same about me.

So watching him walk through the most famous front door in the country was surreal. I did wonder whether I should get all my funding asks in before he had time to change his mobile number. For years, Andy and I complained that too much power was hoarded in Westminster by people who didn’t always understand the places their decisions affected. Now they’ve let one of us run the place.

I’ve told him never to forget where he came from. More importantly, I expect him to remember the strategic importance of our great city region. The Manchester-Liverpool rivalry can resume once the cheque has cleared.

Devolving attitudes

Everybody in Westminster now appears to have discovered the north. When I was an MP, I suspected Whitehall thought “the north” was a homogeneous landmass beginning just beyond the M25, where everyone wore a flat cap and kept a whippet.

Now you can’t move for people talking about mayors, devolution and pushing power out of Westminster. My Scottish friends tell me they’re the real north – but when it comes to English devolution, we’re talking about the Great North.

Those of us who’ve spent a decade banging on about it reserve the right to be slightly amused. In the early days, there was a sense in Whitehall that metro mayors were an experiment – and they weren’t entirely sure what to do with us. We helped them work it out.

A Mersey migration

The Labour conference returning to Liverpool means the annual migration of politicians, journalists, lobbyists and people with increasingly elaborate job titles to the banks of the Mersey.

As mayor, I should probably say I’m looking forward to the speeches, policy announcements and serious debates about the country’s future. But I also enjoy watching the Westminster bubble temporarily relocate to Liverpool, navigating the Albert Dock while pretending they know exactly where they’re going.

My annual advice to delegates is to take the lanyard off and escape the conference zone for a couple of hours. Have a pint. Get something to eat. Speak to people who don’t know what the latest Westminster psychodrama is – and couldn’t care less.

You’ll discover a place very different from the Liverpool that still exists in some people’s minds. Yes, we’re proud of the Beatles. Yes, we’re proud of our football. We’re even proud of some of our politicians. But our storied history needs a new chapter – and we’re busy writing it. And if you’re trapped at a fringe event listening to somebody explain devolution for an hour, don’t blame me. I’ve been trying to get you into the pub.

Sleeping through a revolution

I’ve recently been given the best job I’ve ever had – and it has nothing to do with politics. I’ve become a grandad. I was expecting the usual grandparent experience: cuddles, photographs and lengthy discussions about whose nose he’s inherited.

Thankfully, not mine. I hadn’t anticipated my grandson briefly becoming one of the most famous babies in Britain. When Andy made his first speech as Prime Minister, I was in Downing Street with the family and found myself holding my grandson as the world’s cameras clicked away. I’ve been photographed outside No 10 plenty of times, normally emerging from a meeting looking irritated after arguing with people who didn’t have our best interests at heart.

This was considerably more enjoyable. Andy was taking on one of the biggest jobs in the country. The world’s media were gathered outside. Political history was being made. And my grandson slept through most of it. Probably a sensible assessment of politics.

I’ve spent years talking about leaving the next generation a better inheritance than the one we received. Suddenly I was holding my bit of that next generation in my arms. I’ve been a councillor. I’ve been an MP. I’m mayor of 1.6 million people. I get invited to Downing Street. But I’m absolutely fine with just being a grandad. It’s a joy.

Steve Rotheram is mayor of the Liverpool City Region

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