A Voice.
Our foodbank is part of the Trussell network. I occasionally see negative press about Trussell, and honestly, I can’t work out why. I’m so glad we’re part of it. The data system alone is worth its weight in gold. They’re supportive, they care, they’re progressive, and they’re actively working towards a future without foodbanks. Because of them I’ve been able to lobby in Parliament and be part of national projects. Things I never imagined I would do.
They might be a huge organisation, but their priority is always to get resources down to ground level. We’ve benefited from that more than once.
Part of my role is local influencing. Funding from Trussell made it possible, and I’m grateful it was their money, because a year and a half in, I still don’t know how to monetise it or measure it in neat boxes. I’ve tried, but some things are just hard to quantify. Thankfully, Trussell care more about the stories — the impact on real people. People are at the centre. It’s so refreshing. (That’s a fundraising discussion for another day)
This part of my job has pushed me well out of my comfort zone. I don’t enjoy public speaking, but sometimes it has to be done. I much prefer sitting around a table with a cup of tea, having a proper conversation.
I love Lowestoft and want to see it thrive. I long for investment in areas that have been forgotten. I want people to feel proud of the place they call home. For me, that’s a fight worth having, and I’ll do all I can to make it happen.
Of course, the obvious way to influence this stuff would be to become a decision-maker — join the town council, aim for a top job in the county council, or even become an MP. But I have no desire for any of those roles. Least of all Parliament.
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I work hard to maintain good relationships with our MPs. My personal voting choices don’t matter — I have to stay neutral. These are the people who can, to a certain degree, change things, and it’s important we can work together.
My dad was an MP for ten years. He lost his Waveney seat in 1997. Growing up in that world was a mixed blessing. We had a parking space under the Houses of Parliament. I could run round the corridors, and I would get shouted at if I tried to sit on the famous green benches. Had lunch on the terrace overlooking the Thames, I’ve even seen the Big Ben clock face from the inside. I doubt much of that would be allowed now.
When Peter Aldous invited my family on a tour a few years ago, it really was special to show my kids where their Grandpa worked. Lots of fond memories — but I also remember the darker side. Walking through town with Dad and hearing people shout at him. A man telling me I should be ashamed of myself because of who my Dad was. Police driving past our house regularly because of threats.
So when I recently heard from a current MP about what life is like for them now, I was horrified, but sadly not surprised. Regular threats, constant hate. Regardless of our political viewpoints, MPs are people. Whether we agree with them or not, I like to believe that most are genuinely trying to make the world better (I appreciate many will disagree with this). They need love, compassion, and care just as much as you and me.
That doesn’t mean I won’t hold them to account. It’s literally their job. And yes, this country is in a mess — for many reasons, locally, nationally, and globally. Don’t worry, I won’t get into it here.
So for now, I’ll leave you with this:
I will fight for change as best I can. But at the end of the day, we are all human. We might not all have come from stable places, but we are someone’s child. We all need love, compassion, and care. If we extend that to one another — even a little — I promise the world will be a better place.
