Believe In Your Vote - You Can Always Change Your Mind

It’s said we get more conservative as we get older.  Definitely not me.

Another election has just passed us by in the UK.  These periodic festivals of the democratic process (whatever that really is) always cause me to reflect on the me of previous election years and what is now different.

Shamefully, my engagement in politics drifts from ‘I’m really interested, maybe I should get involved, I should really join a party’ to ‘I can’t be arsed with it as it’s all a repetitive cycle of shite.’  Guess I’m not unusual in this respect but it does mean my own political timeline is not etched in my mind with any accuracy.

I grew up in an extended family where politics was never talked about so I have no ‘dyed in the wool’ backstory as many do.  I went to an all-boys school (not posh) where I was head boy.  I was a goody two shoes and craved adult approval while being the presentable face on formal occasions.  Always a genuinely nice and kind boy but all show and no depth of substance.  I was suspicious and afraid of others who weren’t like me and I had a difficult relationship with difference growing up in a place like Bradford.  I was a massive snob in many areas of my life so for my first vote to be in a European Parliamentary Election it’s not a massive surprise I voted Tory.  I picked up on the message of keeping European influence at arms-length and if truth be told, the candidate I voted for had past associations with a former school of mine and he was Catholic, like me, so in my eyes he was clearly the right person for the job.

Falling in love always changes us.  When I met my dearly beloved and she seemed happy to stick with me, her left wing leanings definitely started questions racing.*  Away from the ties of my youth I felt rather liberated that I was a free voter; ready to be convinced.  Yes folks this is possible.  I know some people seem to think you are either blue or red and anybody who votes otherwise are deluded or just mischievous, but there really are people who want to make a decision based on policy or strength of argument.  At some point, therefore, I remember voting Lib Dem in a Scottish local election.  I read a lot about the candidates, I was aware of the pressing issues for my local ward and I could only identify one candidate who seemed interested in said issues.  I have no recollection whether they won, but I was happy with my democratic exercising.

Since this time I have voted Labour.**  Not because my wool has now been dyed, but because I have voted for the candidate each time who I think speaks best for the local and national issues that most concern me. 

This time round I was no big fan of Jeremy Corbyn or his potential to lead a country but I was not voting for him.  I was voting for my local sitting MP who in her first short term as a young parliamentarian, had shown signs of being a person who truly wants to represent me.  Hell, she even responded to my letter campaigning for safer cycling so she’ll do for me.  Would I vote for another party in future?  Yes, if it is the right thing for me to do.  Secretly, I hope there will be a new party emerges who seamlessly base their manifesto on the outpourings of my brain but I suspect this is unlikely!

Wiser people than me will probably read this and laugh at my idealistic view of voting and how naïve I am to the fact that politics is really a Game of Thrones affair of deals and power play for a select few.  I don’t care.  I believe there are still people who want to stand for parliament to represent and try to change things.  I know one of these people personally.  He is not a careerist.  He cares.

So elections help us to reflect on changes in our own lives.  I’ve changed.  I’ve become much more liberal and open.  I cringe at the younger me sometimes and how narrow minded I was.  I’m always working on my snobbery and I am trying to remain positive about politics and humanity even when it can seem the world is falling apart.  This week I feel like I want to get involved.  I feel like I want to challenge myself further to be a better person.  Next week I may just think it’s all a load of shite again. 

*Young voters take note.  Your choices now may change but that doesn't make them invalid.  Just do a bit more reading than I did when making your ballot paper decisions.  I also recommend you move away or get out of their comfort zone in your late teens and early 20s.  I love Yorkshire and am not surprised I have ended up living back near to where I grew up, but the years I spent away really gave me perspective.

**This will probably still come as a shock to some people who seem to have me cast as William Hague’s West Yorkshire off-spring.  Look at the facts people.  I worked in a job that involved rehabilitating some of society’s outcasts.  I am not a career hungry aspirant, I wear a flat cap and I care about more people than my immediate family.  It’s obvious really.

Give it to the women to do!

I am a sports fan.  I am aware that there is a Rugby Union world cup going on and that there was much grinding of teeth or merriment (depending on your national persuasion) at the early exit of England.  To be honest, I couldn’t care less as Rugby Union is fundamentally flawed as a spectator sport if you ask me.  Regardless of my view though, once again a big sporting event raised the hopes of many and built up a time honoured sense of excitement only for it all to come crashing down days later.

But why do we keep doing this as a nation?  What is it about these events that draws in people who at any other time of the year would have no interest in sport?  Surely, a sense of shared identity has a part to play.  There is very little nowadays that we can unite behind; especially in a national sense.  Regrettably, identifying with most things in a national sense tends to mark you out as a fundamentalist or covert racist.  Sport is, therefore, a safe place for us to show pride in a nation’s flag, get irrationally excited and experience a mass sense of belonging without having to sign up to an organisation and give away money and our personal details.

I’m okay with this, but as in most forms of entertainment, surely there has to be a chance of success and winning to keep that enthusiasm going?  Surely, that is where we are going wrong?  With the 2012 Olympics as the exception, for decades now mass sporting passion has been focussed on major football and rugby union tournaments involving men.  Other than 2003 and Johnny Wilkinson, there has been absolutely nothing to shout about.  How many times have our national teams been involved in the finals end of a tournament?  How many hours have been wasted watching bad performances where there was nothing to get excited about?  This is time you will never get back people.

So is there an alternative option?  Yes.  Hand these sports over to the women.  Taking England as a case in point, the women’s football team, rugby union team and cricket team have all outperformed their male counterparts in recent years.  They’ve been involved in finals and actually won things.  Broadcasters and media take note.  Get behind this now.  It will make people feel good and will be a lot cheaper to cover than the male equivalent. 

Now the alpha males who view sport as their God given domain will start to shout at this point about quality and superior athleticism.  Fine, if you feel threatened by women playing your sport and making a better fist of it than you, go look for sports where home nation males actually excel.  With no research whatsoever, I’m sure there are sports such as squash, triathlon or cycling where British men are champions of the world.

I expect this entry to cause the usual outrage and consternation which only sport or animals can seem to stir up in this most reserved of islands.  ‘How dare he reduce the complexities of sport down to a simple desire to win!’  Ask yourself, however, when did anyone ever say, ‘We performed poorly, the team lacked cohesion and the quality to create chances.  An early exit is a good thing and I thoroughly enjoyed the tournament?’  

Peace

Christmas brings with it certainty,
Of songs as inevitable as the hours passing.
Talking of peace and good will to all.

Lyrics ring hollow in this world though.
Give peace a chance but many don't.
The state of all suggests the ignored.

Mankind conquers all but fails
At the simplest task given,
In the gift of the human condition.

To love and love with ease,
Without rules and conditions,
Regardless of who.

So put away politics, science and space.
Put down technology, objects and war
And let peace reign in love.

Loss Of A Neighbour

I might move out today.
Got sick of the neighbours
And want my own space away from this lot
Who I didn't choose to live next to.

So off I go
Close the door and walk away.
For some reason they look a bit sad.
Don't know why, I always thought they didn't like me.

"He's sold up and gone love.  Apparently he's gone somewhere
He can be alone and that he'll better off away from here!
It'll seem odd without him and I always thought he was such a nice chap.
I hope he doesn't need to borrow a cup of sugar."

Me

Imagery, metaphor, abstract,
Overused.
Say what you mean.
Describe the reality.

What is the reality of me?
What am I like?
What has shaped me?

Yorkshire stone, solid, strong
But soft enough to weather,
To change, to age without
Changing too much.

Like my hills, not severe,
Dramatic but enough,
Enough to be alone.
To be part of busy but above it.

"Do you notice the views?"
Handsome for some, interesting
For a moment to others.
But always there as an escape.

Say what you mean.
Touch the stone,
Walk up the hill,
Look at the view.
That is me.

Generation Gone

It's dying, but there are still a few of them left.
The classy generation of manners and front.
Smart isn't an occasion it is just a state of being
Shirt, tie, blazer, frock; a second skin.

What do they see in the rest of us?
With our colours, our fashions, trainers and caps.
I wonder if they're intrigued, baffled, confused,
Or just entertained by a circus world of clowns.

Did the world start losing the plot when it took its tie off?
Are we less secure without a stiff upper lift and Sunday best?
Was it for the better when all was more plain, more simple?
Maybe they should convince us while there's still some of them left.

Sky Shed

I've been milked, milked dry.
Paid a heavy price.
Now I can become a cow.
My herd move steadily.

Seats for stalls,
Heads nodding,
Vending machine cud.

My ear's not tagged
But there's plenty of ways to i.d. this cow.

Open the gate and in we go to the seven hour shed.