Hubby and I went to vote this morning.
It’s the first time since we moved, and what a difference in reception.
In Lincolnshire, we had a long walk to our polling station…………… next door to the village hall. Not exactly in our nightwear and slippers, but even getting through the door at 7am, we were never the first to vote as the farmer always beat us to it.
The two old boys always ‘on duty’ were chatty and we’d spend five or ten minutes having a laugh before going into the little wooden portable booth to put our
kiss cross in the box.
The polling station here is also within walking distance being at the school in The Avenue, so Maggie had her walk as normal and sat patiently outside whilst we went in.
Four sour faces greeted us.
Hubby and I do not like to see people with long faces, and as such, they become targets for our ‘make ’em smile’ campaign.
It didn’t help that Number One couldn’t find our names on her check list and Number Two begrudgingly had to get up to help her.
We helpfully told them we lived on a boat in the marina, and she asked if that would be the Court then (a complex of retirement flats, a community centre and a nursing home, but I don’t think she knew that).
We gave her the marina’s postal address and our boat’s name, suggesting she look under Narrow Boat as that was how we had registered on-line as had other residential boat owners here.
I explained about this being our first time here comparing it to the village hall and the farmer always beating us, plus anything else I could remember to cheer them up a bit!
Number Three had meanwhile stamped the two ballot papers (local and general elections today) and was holding them out ready for when we had been ticked off (did I detect the glimmer of a smile?).
Numbers One and Two were still having trouble finding us, so Number Four got up and flicked through the beginning of the sheaf of stapled pages.
Hubby fished something out of his pocket and showing it to them, asked if it would help.
It was our Council Election Cards telling us where to go to vote, giving our name and Narrow Boat address at the marina.
Number Four was not happy, looked at the reference number on the cards, and found us by that on the list under ‘M’ (I guess for Marina, rather than a road name).
Number Three had now done a pair of ballot papers for me as well and was almost laughing (I’d guess she was new on the job).
The 1985 film of Brewsters Millions starring Richard Pryor (December 1 1940 – December 10 2005) immediately came to mind as I looked at the 6 General Election candidates:
Labour, UKIP, Lib Dem, Green Party and 2 Conservatives (proves they can’t agree amongst themselves as to who was to stand then). Luckily (?) you could only
kick X one.
All politicians will lie through their teeth trying to convince The Public that they are the guys for the job of running the country.
Over the past few weeks, we have been bombarded with promises, creative suggestions, back stabbing, dirt digging, misconceptions, (non existent) money, debates and arguments as they slag each other off.
Sadly, in my opinion, we have no real choice for change, and people will be voting tactically to keep their idea of the Worst Person out of power.
If we don’t vote, we shouldn’t blame everyone else when the wrong guy gets in.
If we do vote, who’s to say we’re not making the situation worse?
It doesn’t matter who gets into Number 10, hundreds of thousands of disabled, elderly, long term unemployed and poor families will wake up tomorrow and find out who is going to make their Living Hell worse.
But here’s an honest guy.