A distinctive yellow bird flapped its way into Bournemouth this weekend as the Liberal Democrats arrived for their annual Party Conference.
Delegates accustomed to the fat and fuss of earlier years will have found themselves disorientated at this far smaller, quieter affair – the party’s newfound national stature reflected in everything from the fringes and the freebies to the stands and the security checks.
“Electoral annihilation in May has brought the Lib Dems the cold comfort of security irrelevance”, the Guardian’s Esther Addley wryly observed, noting that no longer were attendees obliged to undergo the typical gated experience familiar from major political events.
While this lack of a familiar frenzy may have disappointed the press, however, the party faithful appeared in relatively good cheer – buoyed, perhaps, by the eager aspirations of new party leader Tim Farron to occupy the centre ground left open by Labour’s abrupt leftward reorientation.
From the jubilant gospel choir opening rally to goofy Twitter photo ops and much-shared videos of former MP Julian Huppert feeling the music at the “Lib Dem disco”, the mood was one of resilience and clap-along enthusiasm.
#libdemfightback seemed to be an article of faith for the assembled loyal Coalition survivors, newly free to take a sharply critical line on the fallout from the last five years.
In places replacing the slightly strained insistence on all the good achieved by entering the halls of power was a new sense of self-determination and dogged difference. Here, perhaps, was a party that had finally slipped free of an ill-fitting suit.
And – it turned out – it had kept its lucky Lib Dem socks on underneath. With the party as far as it’s ever been from the centre of power, journalists seeking to interpret the spectacle resorted to considering its myriad unique details – quirks that seem evergreen and truly unique.
A heartwarming array of bright yellow knickknacks greeted shoppers in the Exhibition, including a natty selection of Tim Farron mugs, and – now much diminished in number, the traditional array of pin badges featuring the faces of each and every Liberal Democrat MP.
And indeed, on the schedule for late Tuesday night was one more sign that the Liberal Democrats have not let five years in bed with the Conservatives dull their distinctive tribal sense of fun: the annual Glee Club singalong, complete with a new edition of the Liberator songbook.
Notwithstanding a flutter of controversy over references to the vices of the late and much-missed Charles Kennedy, this year’s collection of comedic songs revealed an eccentric and passionate party with an improbably strong sense of collective identity; a nerdy streak a mile wide; and its tongue firmly in cheek as it sets out to win back the centre ground.
DeHavilland has covered hundreds of fringe events and main speeches at the four main party conferences. Order a copy of their comprehensive conference briefing online here.