The Killing in the Café

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‘That’s a word that’s the real kiss of death.’ Carole Seddon pronounced it with distaste. ‘“Community”.’

‘Don’t be so cynical,’ said Jude.

‘I’m not being cynical. I’m being realistic. I’ve never encountered anything beginning with the word “community” that wasn’t a complete disaster. “Community Action” … “Community Arts” … “Community Politics” … “Community Health” … They’re all shorthand for something that doesn’t work.’

‘Oh, come on.’ Jude was used to her neighbour sounding off, but she really felt she had to challenge this sweeping generalization. ‘I’ve got a lot of friends in the NHS who put in ridiculous hours on Community Health projects and are extremely—’

‘All right, all right.’ It wasn’t in Carole’s nature to concede that she was wrong, but she did redefine her criticisms. ‘I was talking about “community” at the local level. Where projects are taken on by amateurs rather than professionals, and the amateurs almost invariably mess things up.’

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