Consultation is a joke

As public authorities become increasingly desperate to jam these impressive-sounding buzzwords into every sentence, who could fail to marvel at the democratic utopia we live in?

But as readers familiar with the Local Plan saga will appreciate, I'm beginning to wonder why I bother trying to 'engage in meaningful dialogue' when the people who extend the invitation seem to want to do anything but.

When the man responsible for plans to close Weavers Croft says it makes little difference that 3,500 people marched against them, hundreds of column inches were devoted to them and 9,000 people objected to them in good faith, I can't shake the creeping sense of cynicism about this so-called consultation.

Health chiefs expect us to come up with alternative proposals - which is their job, not ours - based on figures they won't give us, clinical knowledge we don't have and a selective interpretation of Government guidelines.

Incredibly, three alternatives to closing Weavers Croft have still emerged. Yet these have been discarded by Gloucestershire Partnership Trust - without adequate exploration, in my view.

Just four weeks ago, the Save Stroud Hospitals Taskforce suggested a community-run social enterprise model as a back-up plan to keep the unit open. The idea was brushed off by chief executive Jeff James because 'those involved haven't thought through fundamental questions'.

Strange, given that after 12 weeks of Mr James hasn't answered fundamental questions about the proposals he hopes to steam-roll through.

The trust has asked for our views, and the people of Stroud have made them abundantly clear. If Weavers Croft is to close regardless, our local politicians will be doing us a great disservice if they do not take the matter to the Secretary of State.