Postal Services Bill

My Lords, I rise on a somewhat nervous knee to address this House. The warmth of the welcome that newcomers receive here is well known, and I am immensely grateful for it. I have had the honour of being introduced here by two of my longest-standing friends in politics. I advised the noble Lord, Lord Hunt of Wirral, at the very start of his parliamentary career 35 years ago, and he is now returning that favour with his characteristic gentleness and humour. As for the noble Lord, Lord Tebbit, I have been a friend of his and his very special wife Margaret for almost as long. I began working closely with him at a time when he was referred to in another place as a semi-house trained polecat, and I was described as his baby-faced hit-man. Time changes many things. I am unsure whether that polecat has yet morphed into a pussycat, but the baby face has, I fear, melted into middle age. I am fortunate to have many friends of long standing in this place, but I would like to mention one in particular. I have been a colleague and friend of the noble Lord, Lord Sharkey, for a quarter of a century. Today we sit on different Benches, but when we started here together he was kind enough to send me a simple message: ““Brothers in arms again””. Those words sum up beautifully the very special spirit of this House. I crave one further indulgence, if I may, to say how superb has been the support given to me by the staff, particularly the Doorkeepers, whom even now stand at the ends of the Chamber like my own Praetorian Guard, discouraging both invader and deserter alike. When I first heard from the Prime Minister that he wished to take the surprising risk of sending me here, I was standing in the queue at my local post office in the beautiful Wiltshire village of Wylye, which, like post offices in almost all rural areas, has faced the whirlwind in recent years. On a crowded afternoon such as this, it is not necessary for me to spell out in detail the ferocious impact that the closure of rural post offices has had on the central fabric of village life; the noble Lord, Lord Empey, and many others here this afternoon have already done that. I therefore applaud wholeheartedly the Government’s initiative in deciding to invest additional money in the post office network and, among the many other things in this Bill, their determination to sustain the rural post office network. Yet the additional funds, as generous as they are, will not be a panacea. Many rural post offices are hanging on by their fingertips. They still face immense challenges, and they deserve better than they have been given in recent years. In 2007, Post Office Ltd announced a massive closure programme. Many local communities were not properly consulted. I had plenty of experience of that failure myself and Consumer Focus, the statutory body for the post office consumers, concluded that communications from the public during this period were treated as nothing more than a necessary evil. Rural post offices are far too important for such a process to be repeated. In welcoming this Bill, may I draw one point to the attention of my noble friend Lady Wilcox and offer one suggestion? The point is this: Post Office Ltd statistics suggest that we still have more than 11,000 post offices in this country. That is not correct. More than 800 of that total are not really post offices at all, but what might better be termed ““postal outlets””; part of what is called the outreach programme. Many of them are former post offices that have been redesignated as outreach partners. They lack any real security. In the case of Wylye, for instance, we had a post office one day and an outreach partner the next. It offered almost identical services; the same personnel, the same premises and the same hours—even the same post box. The difference was that the income the shopkeeper received for this work had dropped by more than two-thirds. There is no longer any pension; no sickness pay; no holiday entitlement. In many rural areas, far from the post office subsidising the shopkeeper, it is the shopkeeper who is now subsidising the post office. They do this because of their sense of civic duty—a desire to carry on serving the community. In that, they truly are the big society come to life. Yet, the goodwill on which many rural postal outlets survive is evaporating and one day will run out. Close the post office or outreach service and we will be forced to watch the disappearance of all the other associated services—many of which are entirely unpaid but are the sinews of village life. I would ask my noble friend if she would take to heart the very different nature of these outreach services and keep a close eye on them. They are desperately vulnerable and the current reporting requirements contained in this Bill may not be adequate for that job. It would be futile to insist that there be no further closures—sometimes circumstances will dictate—but perhaps I may encourage her to consider the following. When a rural post office or outreach service is facing closure, a minimum of 16 weeks’ notice should be given to the local community—particularly parish councils—so that it can have sufficient time to come up with an alternative solution that might keep the postal outlet open and keep alive the host of other vital associated services. Rural communities are incredibly resilient. They can be very inventive. They should be given the chance to show what they can do to help themselves. Post Office Ltd's own code of practice talks of a six-week consultation period, but its record of consultation is not good. Six weeks is not enough—not when so much is at stake. I would ask my noble friend Lady Wilcox to strike a blow for the rural big society and help strengthen village life in this way. The red eye of the digital clock is staring at me, warning me that I must not overstay my welcome. Winston Churchill used to talk about having, ““so much more still to do, and so little time to do it””. I believe he was talking about alcohol, but they are wise words for anyone making their maiden speech. I thank you for your patience. I look forward with tremendous anticipation to finding my place here among you, as a keen and enthusiastic supporter of this Government, if never quite their slave; and, most of all, as a patient, wholehearted and faithful servant of this House.