Thursday Vote

It was a Thursday. We always voted on Thursday. Come rain, shine, or snow Thursday was the day for voting. It was an ancient custom, a day when we had to lay aside our mobile phones and walk to the Polling Station and vote. My Polling Station was in the administration centre of a local church, which was let out to various organisations during the week.

Sometimes there is a queue at the door, but today I walked in and followed the sign to the voting hall, in which were registration desks from where one collected the ballot papers. I approached the table that had my street listed. A pleasant lady greeted me like she had known me all her life. I told her who I was and where I lived. Her companion found me on the list and I was asked for my identification. There was a bored glance and a nod, after which I was handed my ballot paper.

I took it to an empty booth. One is allowed one vote regardless of the number of candidates on the sheet. The argument was that one had to make a definitive choice. No maybes, no perhaps, no alternatives, no second choices, You just had one stab at it. You do all your thinking it over before you set out to vote. The Parties send you a load of guff telling you how good they are, they are wonderful for little children and grannies, and really hard on scoundrels, and they can make the sun shine brighter and the sky bluer. As well as all that they have to state which economic theory or discipline that they are following. You are not bound to believe them but they are bound to state it, as it will affect the direction of their policies for better or worse. The other thing that they have to declare is which other Party they will be prepared to work with, and, as important, which one they will oppose.

I very carefully drew a St Andrew’s cross, and put the sheet in the ballot box. My duty as a voter is over. I left the polling station to get on with my day.