Alan Milburn: Family life has much to teach us about politics

People want to make choices. The old feminist slogan was right: the personal is political

My re-entry into civvie street got off to a rocky start. Eight months back in the Cabinet and already I'd forgotten the rituals associated with my boy's Monday tea-time swimming lesson. First, arrive early not late if you want to nab the best changing cubicle. Second, don't forget the shampoo for the shower. Three, do not on any account embarrass your child by talking to his mates. And four - most crucially of all - remember to bring 50p for the post-swim ice lolly.

My re-entry into civvie street got off to a rocky start. Eight months back in the Cabinet and already I'd forgotten the rituals associated with my boy's Monday tea-time swimming lesson. First, arrive early not late if you want to nab the best changing cubicle. Second, don't forget the shampoo for the shower. Three, do not on any account embarrass your child by talking to his mates. And four - most crucially of all - remember to bring 50p for the post-swim ice lolly.

I failed on all four counts. Oh, the ignominy of it all. Dropping a bollock on prime-time telly is easier to face than the withering look - somewhere between pity and bewilderment - you get from your eight-year-old son. Running an election campaign, I conclude, is easier than being a parent. It's not that people aren't kind. They are. Almost too kind. "How are you? You must be exhausted. God you look tired. Do you want to borrow 50p?" The kindness comes thick and fast.

It's almost like you are on a re-integration into the community programme. You see friends you haven't seen for months on end. You spend time with your partner. You play football with the kids. It feels like returning to earth after months in space.

And that is the analogy that sticks in my head. When I rejoined the Cabinet last autumn, I entered a different world, with its own rituals. Endless meetings. Policy debates. Media management. And leading up to the election it develops a pace all of its own too, culminating during the campaign itself with days starting at 5.30am and ending after midnight. Everything else gets squeezed out. The political world and the real world are propelled into different orbits.

It's not that politics doesn't matter. It does. It's not just in the big things - tackling climate change or the injustice of poverty in Africa - that politics counts. Families and businesses rely on political decisions to create a strong and stable economy. It matters to parents and patients whether they get the choice of good local services. All the way down to the quality of school meals and the security of local communities, what happens in the political world makes a difference in the real world.

So while it has become fashionable to say that politics is losing out to cynicism because promises have been broken or the wrong priorities pursued, I think much of the blame falls on the way we do politics. It is the way we go about politics, as much as anything, that creates distance. If we end up with politics in one place and the public in another, it is a victory only for the shrug-your-shoulders, nothing-changes, may-as-well-look-after-number-one-mentality. The Left should worry most about that view of the world taking hold, since it denies the very possibility of collective endeavour producing progress.

I have no easy answer. The 24/7 media world, in particular, makes it almost impossible for politics to be anything other than a relentless occupation. The risk is that it becomes a calling for the few, not the many. Perhaps the answer lies in moving more decision-making out of the frenzy of Westminster and into the hands of local people. Giving parents and patients more say and letting local communities run local services could help reacquaint politics and the public.

In the meantime, I am pursuing my own form of reacquaintance. Oddly enough the more time I spend on my community reintegration programme, the more I am reminded what politics is all about. Letting families and communities blossom because help is there when it is needed. Making sure the opportunities my own children have are available to all children. Providing support for families who face the modern pressure of demand from home and work outstripping the time available. Guaranteeing high-quality health and social services for when young kids get ill and elderly parents become infirm. Ensuring safe, secure, clean neighbourhoods for children to grow up in.

People want to make personal choices for themselves and their families - but they want to know they are not on their own in facing the challenges the modern world brings. The old feminist slogan was right: the personal is political. The future belongs to whoever can bring the two worlds together.

In the meantime, I've learned that Monday tea-times mean arriving early, keeping quiet and bringing the shampoo. Oh, and I have got a good collection of 50p coins. The only problem is the price of ice lollies has risen. I wince at the thought that the Tories might even blame Tony Blair's government for that. And then I rejoice in the knowledge that I no longer have to remember the Government's response, only the importance of bringing an extra 10p to the baths.

Alan Milburn is MP for Darlington