Election Eve

 Bert and I do not always see eye-to-eye regarding local politics. His inclination is to vote for moderate candidates whilst I (in his opinion) vote 'tribally'. I see my position as voting for parties that are more left-leaning. Where we come together is that neither of us will give any preference to the DUP, TUV or Northern Ireland Conservatives. In addition, I will be giving no preference votes to Aontú.

During the run-up to the Brexit referendum, I was keen to encourage people in our friendship circle to vote sensibly. As regards this election I'd just ask that they vote because, I'm glad to say, most of them hold sensible views even if some of their views do not align completely with mine. Sadly, I know a fair few folks who won't vote at all. Some have never voted. I've never not voted except for that time that I was at a country auction for most of the afternoon and was far too tired after standing for hours as farmer's wives got into bidding wars over bundles of moth-eaten cushions, chipped delft and ancient Singer sewing machines. It was only a council election anyway.

One of our callers told me he has never voted. I was shocked. He is almost fifty years old! His reasoning for not voting is that as soon as the election results are called it is likely that one party will refuse to form a government and we will be cast into limbo again. I did not like to say that it is because of people like him that we are in the mess we're in. However, it turns out that his sibling always votes and he favours the centrist Alliance party and that barrister chap, Jim Something. I suggested that if the bro was going to vote for the TUV leader he'd be better staying at home and cracking open a bottle of Sainsbury's finest red instead.

Then this morning there was a moment of joy. Clint called round and after a brief conversation about why local farmers roll their fields (I'm still none the wiser) we moved on to politics. I didn't like to ask Clint what his intentions were. He's normally Unionist but if he'd moved in Jimbo's direction I'd have been depressed.  But no. Clint is disillusioned with politicians. Thinks they are a terrible shower. In fact, the only person he ever struck in temper his entire life was a local DUP councillor. They were both about eleven years old when yer man accosted Clint as he was carrying home a jamjar of tadpoles. The councillor to be thought it funny to grab Clint's tadpoles and empty them on the ground whereupon Clint lost it and knocked him through a hedge. Discretion prevents me from naming this councillor but I'll provide a clue. His initials are the same as the Big Man in the New Testament.

Voting day is always a Thursday and that is the day we have the two oldest grandchildren. Their school is used as a polling station so they'd always have the day off. Traditionally they have accompanied me to our polling station, which is Bert's old primary school and only a five-minute walk from here. Tomorrow it will just be Evie as Martha has moved on to secondary school. Martha will probably not enter a polling station again until she is old enough to vote. And that is only six years away. Who knows who she will vote for? It might be easier to guess who she won't be voting for. The future is coming.