In less than 24 hours my little sister will stop being a Carter and become a Hopkins ... when she gets married.

This evening, we had the rehearsal at the church where the service is taking place at 1300 tomorrow. Our dad died many years ago, so I have the honour of walking my sister down the aisle and offically 'handing her over'.

We practiced the walk from the car, timed ourselves, worked out how many steps it is from one end of the aisle to the altar and then went through the bits where I sit down, then stand up, then sit down again.

Rebecca and Guy then had to have a go at the vows - she was hopeless and burst into tears almost straight away!

The priest was fantastic though - very reassuring, had some great advice for them both and explained every aspect of the service.

To be honest it seems like we've suddenly got here - rather than this having been on the radar for ages.

My mum said tonight, that she felt that 'after all the preparation that's being going on for months, getting to the night before the big day seems to be a bit a anti-climax'.

I guess the irony - if that's the word - is that the actual wedding 'bit' takes a matter of minutes, so when you've been planning for many many weeks, it probably does feel like a bit of an anti-climax.

I'm off to bed now because breakfast is being served at 0645; I'm picking up the bride at 0800 and the hairdresser is arriving at 0830. Tomorrow is likely to be organised chaos and whizz by; but I can't wait to share in my little sister's special day.

The story below is running on the Press Association wires tonight:

Town hall pensions are costing every household in England and Wales £281 a year - the equivalent of a quarter of their council tax bill - Conservatives said today.

Shadow communities secretary Caroline Spelman highlighted official figures showing the Local Government Pension Scheme - which excludes teachers, firefighters and police - cost councils £5.4 billion in 2008/09.

The figure was almost GBP400 million up on the previous year's £5.009 billion - an increase of 8% - and was more than four times the £1.52 billion cost when Labour came to power in 1997/98.

Analysis by the Conservatives found the yearly cost is now equivalent to £281 for each council tax-paying household in England and Wales, compared to an average council tax bill of £1,175.

Ms Spelman said: "Town hall pensions are now costing every taxpaying household almost £300 a year - equivalent to a quarter of everyone's council tax bill going on pension costs, rather than emptying bins or cleaning streets.

"Local taxpayers simply cannot afford to foot an ever-growing bill. Under Labour, people are paying more and getting less."

Right, I'm no politician and my job means that I have to stay neutral - frankly I couldn't care less which party is running Leeds City Council; it's simply my job to support and work with whoever is in charge.

But - the story above is an example of where the Tories are well and truly shooting themselves in the foot.

The final sentence 'under Labour, people are paying more and getting less' says it all for me.

Ummm, H-E-L-L-O - Miss Spelman - did you check to see which party is running the town hall in Leeds before issuing your analysis to the media? Clearly not because the party in charge here is ... the Conservatives!

So tomorrow morning, when the Yorkshire Post calls asking for a comment on this I'll be defending the Tory council adminstration from ... itself!

That's crazy. Some people really need to engage their brains before sending out press releases.

This is a copy of my weekly blog which I write for work and is published on the council's intranet.  The views I express in this log are my own, professional, views as the Head of Communications but do not necessarily reflect those of the authority itself.

I’m feeling a bit under pressure this week.

A few months back I agreed to present a guest lecture at Leeds Met University’s business school.  It is open to students studying PR and journalism courses, but because it’s run in association with the Chartered Institute of Public Relations (CIPR) it means that communications professionals are also invited.

I said ‘yes’ at the time because I considered it flattering to be asked and a great honour to have a slot on what I understand to be a prestigious series of lectures which in the past have featured some ‘communication greats’.

I’m following the man from Sony and the next lecture will be presented by another Andy; this one Andy Green who has a national reputation for running his own firm.

That’s the reason I’m feeling a bit under pressure.

Several fellow communications big-wigs have been in touch to let me know that: ‘we’ve seen you’re down to present a lecture, so we’ve booked our place!’

Oh.  My.  Goodness.

Then I was forwarded an email from a colleague yesterday who’d spotted a mention of it on ‘Insider Spark’.

It ‘bigged me up’ a bit saying that I was going to be talking about ‘PR for local councils in the digital age’.

At this point, the pressure ratcheted up a bit more.

Here’s the thing.  I’m more than comfortable getting up and doing a quick Power Point presentation or interviewing the award winning Stuart Simmons in front of an audience of 100 – but I’ve never had to do a full-fat serious lecture before.

I’ve got an hour to fill.  45 minutes of me and then 15 minutes of questions and frankly I’m a bit nervous.  The whole thing will be recorded and shown on the university’s website for all to see.

I have asked for the support of my team and they have agreed to help with an interactive session at the start of the lecture and Cllr Richard Brett and James Rogers are also involved.

My chosen subject is how we – as a council – are refocusing the press office to be less reactive, much more proactive and to operate more like a newsroom.  Gone are the days when we can sit around waiting for the phone to ring; we need to be out there sourcing stories ourselves and getting journalists to run them.

I’ve talked about this before in this Log.  So, my lecture will focus on how we can make use of the shifting media landscape to help us.  I’ll be reflecting on falling newspaper sales, increasing radio audiences and how social media and the internet are new tools for us to grasp and make good use of.  I’ll also be highlighting the council’s virtual newsroom and some of the content on it.

If you’re interested in attending (no, not to throw rotten eggs and smelly tomatoes from the back row) let me know and I’ll see if that’s a possibility.

It’s happening on Monday (October 19th) at 18.30.

Finally – thanks for all your suggestions for a ‘distracting’ news story we could have on ice in order to deflect attention from any difficult news.

I mentioned this last week because of the Winchester councillor who made the national news when he claimed he had had a close encounter with an alien ballet dancer in the city’s high street.  (I was born in Winchester and I’ve never seen anything similar).

Anyway, after much (about 11 seconds worth) of deliberation, the winner of the star prize of a packet of Custard Creams and a half chewed pencil is …

Pam Richardson from IT!

Pam came up with the idea of a ‘hidden portal’  in Civic Hall which ‘opens and closes with a swish’ and through which ‘staff disappear’.  A ‘mysterious voice can be heard which beckons them through’ she suggests.  The good news is that staff do eventually return unharmed but with ‘no recollection of where they have been’.

Hold on.  This isn’t made up.  That’s the room where I hid to escape the clutches of the TV Licensing people.

I had a really frightening experience and for the first time in my life I felt that I was completely out of control of what was going on.

I - like most people - like to think that I'm pretty 'tough'. I don't often get struck down by illness, I eat well and my weight is just right. I'm healthy.

So, when - as last night - I'm sitting watching TV that suddenly a searing pain shoots across my chest and it feels like someone's crushing me I did get alarmed. Then when I found myself short of breath as the pain got worse, alarm turned to panic.

Two choices: call my sister who's a matron or dial 999. I thought to myself 'this can't be a heart attack surely?'

My sister answered quickly but as I began to give her my symptons she started to sound panicky as well which wasn't a good sign.

I was still talking and making sense; there was no tingling in my arms or legs; I wasn't sweating and my heart itself seemed to be beating ... and fairly regularly.

OK, so perhaps my ticker wasn't about to stop tocking.

The long and short of it is that I am still alive - thank God. But, it was frightening. NHS Direct wanted to know if I 'had been overcome with a sense that one was about to die'. Well, yes actually. When you're in that much pain and you've not got a clue what is happening to you, I'd say that's exactly the thought that goes through your mind.

Therefore, for me, it proves without doubt, just how truly fragile we really are.

She was staying near a place called Kirkby Lonsdale. I live near Northallerton, but was coming up from Leeds (where I work).

Being the good motorist I am I thought I'd research a way of getting there. Leeds and Kirkby Lonsdale are on the same page of my map so I figured it wasn't too far. However, I thought I'd just run the trip through the Green Flag route planner, just to make sure.

58 bloody miles! As Victor Meldrew used to say 'I don't believe it'. Green Flag reckoned it was going to take me 1 hour 31 minutes.

OK, I could understand that getting out of Leeds might take a while, but surely the A65 wasn't going to be that slow?

It was. The A65 has got to be the most hellish road this side of Mumbai. It'd be fine if there wasn't any traffic on it but annoyingly today there was plenty. Caravans, motorhomes, tractors, lorries and loads of old biddies doing 40 miles an hour in a 60 limit.

What is it with drivers in West Yorkshire? They go so sloooooooowly. Perhaps they are too frightened to get out of third gear.

I left Leeds at 1003 (I know because the news was just finishing) and I didn't get to Kirkby Lonsdale until 1145.

Over 100 minutes to do 58 miles.

It's no wonder so many people die on roads like the A65. They twist and turn all over the place, but drivers take increasingly bigger risks to get past these old duffers. I saw several dodgy moves today. That can't be condoned but I do have sympathy. Drivers get more and more desperate to get past these idiots so their overtakes get to the point where they are more luck than judgement.

You won't be surprised to learn that I didn't come home via the A65 - I went across the Yorkshire Dales instead. Spookily, it was a total distance of 58 miles - but this time completed in about an hour. A great drive and some amazing scenery as well.

Oh Dear Lord - my secret is out ... I used to have hideous hair!

One of my former colleagues from Winchester Hospital Radio has unearthed this picture of me and sent it across tonight.

Clearly when I was younger my fashion choices weren't up to much either.

It has prompted some great memories of some great times though - WHR is a fantastic charity and it's where I learnt my broadcasting trade alongside and with an amazing bunch of dedicated and talented people.

Have a look at http://www.whr.org.uk

This is a copy of my weekly blog which I write for work and is published on the council's intranet.  The views I express in this log are my own, professional, views as the Head of Communications but do not necessarily reflect those of the authority itself.

I want to start this week by saying ‘thanks’.

Thanks for all the supportive comments you sent me regarding my trauma with the TV Licence.  It all seems to be sorted now.  The lovely Jessica has stopped calling.  Our short relationship is over.  But, that’s fine by me.

Thanks also for those of you who’ve stopped me in the corridor to say nice things about this Log.  You’re all very kind.

Anyway – we’re in a new week, so it’s time to talk about new things.

We’re about to launch a new ‘campaign’ around plain English.  We’ve had the brilliant and fantastic Rosana Rategh working with us for a number of months and she’s been developing a workshop we can run for all staff.

There have been a number of pilot sessions and the feedback so far has been great.

The campaign is the result of concerns raised by councillors who say increasing numbers of formal committee reports and documents are confusing and difficult to read.  One of them told me ‘if I can’t understand the content of the report, how can I be expected to make an informed decision?’.

That’s a fair point and one that’s difficult to argue against.

Yesterday, a colleague and I had to go to the central and corporate scrutiny board to talk to members about our plain English aspirations.

They raised a number of issues and concerns.  One was bad grammar, another was the incorrect use of apostrophes and a third was ‘the terrible use of English generally’ as one councillor put it.

But the biggest annoyance was acronyms and abbreviations.  Members said we used them too often and on many occasions we don’t even explain what they mean.

Now, I think ridding our communications of both is going to be a tough nut to crack.  They are embedded in our culture here.  It’s the language we’re used to.

Here’s the proof of why I think it’s going to be a challenge.

When I was explaining to councillors that we had support from senior officers for the plain English campaign I told them we were going to take a report to CLT.

‘CLT!’ exclaimed the chairman.  ‘Now you’re doing it!’

Ooops.  That was a big boob for the head of communications to make.  There I was talking about how to rid the council of acronyms and abbreviations while also using one myself.

That’s the problem.

(At this point I turned round and had to ask Dave Marsh from the Yorkshire Evening Post not to write that down in his report.)

You’ll be hearing more about our plain English campaign over the coming weeks as we start running the workshops and I look forward to seeing you at one of them.

Next – Harold Wilson once said: ‘A week is a long time in politics.’

I want to move that saying on so it becomes ‘A lot can change in a week in politics’.

I mention this because I think last week was the strangest so far in my short career in local government communications.

About 10 days ago, we (the council) were in the midst of a PR ‘war’ with the unions over the bin strike.  We were saying our thing and they were saying theirs and not surprisingly those two sets of messages were quite different from each other.

Fast forward to last Thursday then when I was having a casual ‘friendly’ chat with the man from Unison to make sure he was happy with a statement … I had written on behalf of his union and the GMB.

It was quite surreal – us ‘handling the communications’ for the two unions who for the previous two weeks we’d been ‘battling’ against.

Let’s hope some progress can now be made in the talks which are underway.

Finally, if ever there was an award for ‘a councillor getting themselves in the national media with the strangest story ever’ then I’d give it to this man.

I’m wondering whether we could come up with a bizarre story which we could hold in reserve for use if we ever need to deflect attention.

Perhaps it could be something like: ‘Council leader abducted by refuse truck shaped flying machine …’ or ‘Launch of new self-emptying bins in Leeds …’

Dear reader I know that you’re a creative type; so please send in your suggestions by return.  I may even be able to rustle up a small prize for the best one.

I was doing some coach driving and had to take a group of army ‘freshers’ from their camp in Harrogate to Leeds and back.

These freshers are a bunch of lads who are aged 16 and 17 and they’re just a few weeks into their basic training.

They spend the first year at their foundation college in Harrogate where they learn the fundamentals of being a modern soldier.

I got to chat to their commanding officer while we waited to depart. He told me that his group of trainees were shaping up well – ‘much better than some of the others’ he said.

That was obvious – his group were able to march properly for a good start.

One of the other ‘platoons’ were pretty hopeless from what I could see; they didn’t seem to understand left and right and were completely out of sync.

‘If we can get this cracked in the first six weeks, then we’re on to a winner’ said the Corporal in charge. He told me that the discipline was the first priority – they ‘could then build on the rest’.

You get to do lots of thinking when you drive a bus – and here’s what I thought about. What motivates these boys (‘cos that’s all they are really) to sign up to the army? What do they expect? And, what gap in their lives will the army fill?

One. It could be money. The reason for the coach trip to Leeds was so they could all go shopping. They’d just received their first pay packet. £900 of pure spending money. With their food and accommodation paid for, what they get each month is simply disposable income. And boy did they dispose of it in Leeds! OK there were about 40 of them, but I’ve never seen so many TK Maxx, Primark and JD Sports bags on one bus.

Two. Perhaps it’s a sense of belonging or comradeship. The need to be part of a collective group of people.

Three. It might be because eventually they’ll get to drive tanks, shoot guns and blow things up.

Then there’s expectation. Maybe some of them expect to be driving tanks, shooting guns and blowing things up. But, clearly many of them didn’t seem to take too well to being shouted at and made to march everywhere. But surely that’s naive? Why would someone join the army and NOT expect to be shouted at? It’s a bit like paying 50p to Ryanair to fly you to France. Surely you should expect the airport to be 100 miles from where you want to be and that the flight is going to be delayed? The Corporal told me that one lad lasted just three days into the course and demanded he ‘be allowed to go home to his mum because someone was always yelling at him’.

Finally, there’s the gap. I believe the army fills a void. There’s got to be something missing from a 16 year old’s life which influcences his decision to sign up.

I say this because – although he shouted at them quite a lot – the corporal had their attention all the time and they looked up to him. Listening to their conversations with him it was obvious.

They told him they wanted to be like him, have a successful army career like him, see action like him and drive the same car as him. If it wasn’t a mini kind of obsession about being him it certainly was respect for him.

Respect he didn’t earn necessarily – not by shouting at them anyway – but respect they wanted to offer him. At last, it seemed, they had a role model. Their alpha male. A surrogate dad maybe?

Perhaps I need to less bus driving. It seems I think too much.

Leader of the Year at Leeds City Council!

I'm speechless!