THIS ISLAND LIFE
THE first paragraph of last week’s front-page story in this paper made my blood run cold.
It began: "It’s less than 100 pages long and largely made up of photographs, blank spaces and gibberish …"
For a minute I thought somebody had decided to review my book. But it turned out to be even more distressing.
More than 18 months ago, a natty little cove called Sir Terry Farrell was commissioned by the IW Council to draw up an 'aspirational vision’.
He was to be our 'design champion’ and, working in conjunction with council officers, would 'help us articulate our plans to both residents and potential future investors’.
It’s the sort of vacuous, trendy jargon employed by those who exist in a fragrant bubble, floating aimlessly above the reality of life.
And it comes at a price. In this case £50,000 — and what have we so far received for our money? For full details, see the second paragraph above.
It was the ridiculously self-important and expensive brainchild of the ridiculously self-important and expensive Joe Duckworth, during his brief tenure as chief executive of the IW Council. When dapper Sir Tel was asked in March 2008 how long it would take to draw up this important document, he estimated six months to a year.
He also promised workshops and meetings during his time as our 'champion’. None is believed to have been held and there is some doubt whether Sir Tel has ever actually visited the Island in a professional capacity.
Sixteen months later, when everyone seemed to have forgotten about the manifesto except the County Press, the council’s head of planning, Bill Murphy, was contacted for an update.
He said it was 'close to being finalised’.
That was July last year and it would seem Mr Murphy was being a tad optimistic, because, eight months later, all we have to show for our money is a half-cocked, half-hearted, half-completed mish-mash.
You will not be surprised to learn that repeated attempts to contact Sir Tel and his acolytes have been in vain.
This farce is a classic example of the way in which a local authority can fail its taxpayers on a number of levels.
Firstly, was this initiative entirely necessary? Of course not but Joe had probably attended some chief executives’ shindig, heard about this fancy idea from a mate up country and decided the Island should also have one.
After all, it’s not real money is it? And there’s plenty more where that came from.
Secondly, if the scheme was so important, why has it been left to gather dust for two years without anyone being designated to drive it forward?
Thirdly, when Bill Murphy was asked for an update eight months ago, why did he say the manifesto was 'close to being finalised’, when it had clearly been abandoned and placed in the 'only to be brought out if we really have nothing more important to do’ file?
When will council officers realise hasty, convenient and inaccurate remarks will always come back to haunt them?
If he had said the manifesto would be dealt with as soon as possible but the council had more pressing matters to deal with at the moment, we may not have liked it but we would have respected his honesty.
So there, in one flawed exercise, you have a perfect example of why so many people regard local government with scorn and scepticism.
The mixture of over-blown ambition, extravagance and deceit is never attractive — even less so when we are paying for it.
YOU'VE got to hand it to Ray Winter — he knows how to flog a car
Nationally, Skoda provide about two per cent of the cars on the road. But on the Island they comprise an extraordinary 14 per cent of the vehicles currently swerving their way around our local potholes.
However, as has been faithfully chronicled in these columns, Mr Winter’s navigational skills are not quite so finely-honed.
This is the man, you may recall, who was meant to be test-driving a Yeti in Austria and ended up being stopped by a bunch of bewildered policemen in Italy.
So when he was meant to be attending Skoda’s world dealers’ conference in the Czech Republic recently, there were doubts among family and friends whether he would actually end up there.
"But we came up with the solution," said his brother, Kenny. "We told him it was being held in Spain — and sure enough he turned up in the Czech Republic."
I RECEIVED a letter last week which acted as a reminder of the popularity local football enjoyed on the Island in the Fifties.
Tony 'Daisy’ Lambert got in touch from his home in Buckinghamshire after the publication in this column of the photograph of the Ryde Sports team from 1955.
He wrote: "When that picture was taken I was probably at 'the other end’ behind the goal, where all we lads would gather to cheer on the Reds — 'two, four, six, eight, who do we appreciate?’ Unfortunately, all of Windy Windeler’s great saves were viewed from a distance, because we always stood behind the goal Ryde kicked into.
"If we ever saw players like Windy or Nobby Hobbs in Ryde High Street, we were as much in awe as fans of today’s Premiership players."