After a promising start, the Lib Dems seem to have managed to ruin whatever kudos they had at their conference by being bizarrely incompetent. I'd say laughably incompetent, but it's not really funny, just incomprehensible. There must be some sort of leadership 101 which says "your colleagues, who are as democratically elected as you are, will not like to be surprised at your national conference". And yet? And yet.
Well, they did manage to unleash a nice attack on George Osborne. Which is always entertaining. Still, in the current turmoil, I do feel that they should be making more gains than they are. Although I felt the same way from 2003 onwards and they completely failed to capitalise on that, so I shouldn't be surprised.
In other news, I am thoroughly depressed by the success of some of the people I went to University with, even though my link to them is tenuous at best. One has just published a second book (I am still refusing to read the first one in case it turns out to be really good, even though it's trashy young adult fiction, and makes me want to fall on my own sword. Which sounds like a sexual innuendo but really isn't) and the thought of it makes me want to take to my bed and only emerge when I've managed to write a mind-blowing, feminist, literary bestseller of a first novel. Which is never going to happen. As I can't sustain writing a blog, a novel seems a bit of a stretch. Alas, the perils of being ambitious but terribly lazy. Being bitter and consumed by envy is my only recourse. That and crochet. Done in a bitter, envious manner.