Last night, having contributed my $15 for membership of the NDP because I approve of Niki Ashton’s attitude towards the Palestine-Israeli imbroglio --- she supports the Palestinians, which raises the question, what the hell is wrong with her party that they don’t do the same?--- I walked over to St Laurent boulevard where she was reputed to be having a meeting at 7 pm.
I eventually found the place, a nightclub, upstairs, almost unsignalled at street level, with no sign indicating Ms Ashton was to be expected. The place was occupied by a group of very loud rock musicians rehearsing for a concert scheduled to start at 9 pm, according to my internet research. Eventually quite a few people arrived and occupied the seats that were scattered around as is usual in a nightclub, and waited.
Then, I waited.
And waited. At 7.30 I indicated to someone sitting at my table that she was running late.
So, I waited. And waited. At 7.35, growing impatient, I waited some more, reflecting on the fact that during my days as an active journalist I operated by a rule of thumb, that anyone who has not arrived for an appointment within 20 minutes of the agreed time is not coming, causing me to abandon the appointment.
At 7.45, convinced that if Niki Ashton cannot keep an appointment, she is unlikely to be able to run the country, I left, asking my question of the guy at the door, who could not tell me when things were going to start, and replied, “Good question.”
So much for my fancied candidate for Prime Minister.