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I remember sitting in a drafty church hall three years ago, watching a perfectly good community initiative crumble simply because the chairperson couldn’t make it to the Tuesday night meeting. We spent forty minutes arguing about whether everyone had actually… Continue reading

I remember sitting in a drafty community hall back in ’98, watching a perfectly good neighbourhood initiative crumble simply because the key players hadn’t even bothered to formalise their presence in the local elections. There is this persistent, exhausting myth… Continue reading

I remember sitting in a drafty church hall three years ago, watching Mrs. Gable stare at a pile of government forms like they were written in an ancient, undecipherable dialect. She wasn’t looking for a miracle; she just wanted to… Continue reading

I remember sitting in a drafty church hall back in ’94, staring at a stack of glossy, professional-looking brochures from three different national organizations, feeling more lost than when I started. Everyone tells you that finding support is a matter… Continue reading

I remember sitting in a drafty church hall back in ’94, staring at a pile of handwritten estimates for a new community garden fence. We had three different contractors, and every single one of them had given us a number… Continue reading

I remember sitting in a drafty church hall back in ’98, staring at a pile of mismatched invoices and a leaking roof that had cost our community garden committee far too much money. We had hired a man based entirely… Continue reading

I remember sitting in a drafty church hall back in ’98, watching two neighbors go at it over a shared driveway. The air was thick with the smell of damp coats and old tea, but the tension was even sharper.… Continue reading

I remember sitting in a drafty community hall back in ’94, listening to a solicitor explain why a boundary disagreement required a three-thousand-pound mediation fee and six months of paperwork. It was infuriating. People think that when things go wrong… Continue reading

I remember sitting in a drafty community hall back in the nineties, listening to a young officer explain that the only way to deal with local nuisance was through a mountain of formal, multi-agency paperwork. It was all very professional,… Continue reading

I remember sitting in a drafty community hall back in ’94, watching a group of lovely, well-meaning neighbors crumble into silence because a developer had waved a glossy blueprint in their faces. They thought they needed a high-priced solicitor and… Continue reading