Mick Bates remembered

 The factual biography is here, but it doesn't really say what the man was about. I am grateful to Gavin Cox, for letting me copy a more vivid picture first posted on Facebook

Let's face it, Mick Bates was a crap politician. He had no time for tradition nor process. Mick was the ultimate in unconvention. To Mick, party politics got in the way of progress. There was nothing he hated more than spending 3 days in Cardiff committees or the debate chamber. This was valuable time lost to the real people who had real issues. He'd dismay at politicians toeing the party line. He despised tribal politics and spoke out for the need for more consensus and grown up thinking.

Yet he also held a very genuine concern should Montgomeryshire fall into opposition hands. Should this happen, all the progress, everything we've worked for over the years will be lost, he would say. 'These Tories don't care for people, they care for nothing but money and power for themselves". How prophetic he was. Still, he shouldered the blame when the Severn Valley flooded, or when there was a drought. He was happy to be blamed for snow or when autumn gusts uprooted trees. And did he laugh!

This crap politician led the campaign that saw free school milk reintroduced to Welsh school kids, giving the Welsh dairy industry a much-needed boost and doing his bit to halt growth and learning deficiencies in the youngest and poorest of kids. This crap politician set the agenda for sustainable and renewable energy growth across Wales. This crap politician was at pains to speak out, alongside the National Farmers Union and Farmers Union of Wales, how Welsh agriculture needed the EU markets but that the EU needed reform, not abandoning. He longed for that Thursday 3hr drive northwards on the A470 to be home with Buddug, Ruth and Daniel and have the chance to sort out Mr Edwards' Tir Gofal payments, or see Mrs Brown who needs a disabled parking space outside her home, or to simply spend time in hills of the countryside of Llanfair Caereinion but he always had to be at The Smithfield market on a Monday morning. That's where Mick was most at home.

Mick was not so much a boss than a partner and a leader. I was once his wingman, his straight man. I helped put organisation to the disorganisation; to build a plan to match Mick's vision; to get him to slow down to at least 100mph so everyone else could catch up and attempt understanding. I'd be lying if I said it wasn't challenging. I remember turning up one particular morning of media briefings, live TV studio hopping and radio broadcasts wearing my new sharply pressed tailored suit eager to impress on a big public facing exercise. Mick gave me a look of disgust, "Blimmin' heck Gav, don't turn into a grey person. Be normal! If anyone tells you what to wear never ever listen to them. Don't ever let anyone tell you what to do!".

We got on because we were both non-conformists, we'd question stuff rather than accept at face value and we'd spot a bullshitter a mile off (and we met a few!) and we'd out bullshit them and then we would laugh some more. I'd like to think he saw a little bit of himself in me.

The stories I have to tell are legendary. One began in a lift of either a Brighton or Bournemouth conference hotel as we were on our way to dinner. Mick held the lift and gave me one of his pointy fingers to the chest talks with a half cocked smile, that made one sense it might be serious or it may just be a laugh. "Whatever you do Gav make sure I don't get pissed because when I get pissed I get properly pissed." Ok Mick.. thinking how do I stop this 6ft wide rugby prop from drinking and live to tell the tale? The night ended with Mick stood on a table in the conference bar, his tie tied tight around his forehead, reciting poetry of a derogatory but hilarious nature about the then president of the Liberal Democrats as I sat with my head in my hands not knowing what to do or where to look. The term 'force of nature' has been used previously to describe visionary folk who have achieved change with breathless energy. On this occasion I feel it suits the giant of a man that was Mick Bates. A Leicestershire boy who became a wily mid Wales farmer and community leader and remained Bob Dylan's #1 fan and I am so happy that I got to visit him on his farm and have a good chat and catch up while I was back in the UK. And this is one of the hardest things I've ever had to write. God bless you Mick.