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.
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