Vote for Coronation

I awoke early, I usually do in Spring when the light shines in, and was greeted with the not surprising news that Labour had won all three seats available in our ward.  As far as I can tell the Conservatives are still in control, but now only by 8 seats.  The Independents, who are doing well in the villages, the Greens and others have filled gaps left by departing Tories.  

The result has been similar throughout the country.  This election only covered England, and so far Labour have won about 200 seats, the Liberal Democrats 60 or so, and the Tories just lose everywhere, especially in what is called the 'Red Wall' seats.  These are areas once totally committed to Labour, but which sold out at the last General Election to Boris Johnsons lies.  They now regret this decision.

We expect the usual statement from the various parties but Greg Hands has topped the lot.  In an interview this morning he claimed he had visited 33 wards and met on the doorstep a great deal of support for what Rishi Sunak is doing.  The implication is that Rishi is not like those who have gone before.  It was put to him that, at the time of the interview, around 150 seats have been lost.  His reply was to state that he found no support for Keir Starmer!  The people, in his view, are supporting the PM by voting against him, and dislike Starmer so much his party has already won over 150 seats.  This interview is a classic of ignoring reality.

In 1968 the SNP won well over 360 seats in the local elections of that year, on TV late at night the head of the Scottish Communist Party was interviewed.  "Our victory tonight," he said, "shows that the Scottish people realise that only the Communist Party has the answer for our troubles."  His party had won one single seat, in Inverness I think!  

I thought our seat would be counted today, but this occurred last night.  However, the majority of seats are being counted today, and thus the damage to the Tory Party will be immense.  There is still support for the Tories, mostly in wealthier areas, but when you consider almost all local elections carry only a quarter of the population to vote, and the nonsense about personal ID has turned away many Tory as well as other voters, there is no doubt this election has been a shambles for them.  By late evening we will know just how bad this has been.

Saturday sees Charlies big day.  After a lifetime of waiting, longer than I have lived, just, he now has the chance to fill his destiny.  The reactions to this are interesting.  The Mall is lined with the usual collection of women of a certain age, some men and a lot of foreign types, awaiting a glimpse of the royals as they pass.  Quite what motivates some of them leaves me wondering.  

We also see an immense, and not very worthy, amount of cynicism regarding the monarch and the coronation.  How much genuine thought has gone into this I suggest is limited in scope.  Once again we see the 'divide and rule' at work, where genuine patriots will support the monarch, and non patriots will refuse.  There is no nuance in this.  Age is one part.  Many royalists are "cough," older people, many opposing, young whippersnappers.  

The war left a large impression on those who lived through it, including the children.  While children usually enjoyed war, many interesting happenings almost daily, they grew up in a patriotic culture, a culture impressed on such as I, in the years after the war.  The passage of time amended many understandings of royalty, and Scottish Independence adds to this, and it is a long time since many of my generation 'respected' royalty by doffing the cap.   For those born in more recent times with no memory of Empire, little connection to those who ran it, and with absolutely no understanding why it existed, they can be excused for wondering about all the pomp of a coronation.  

The pomp goes back into history, mostly English, concerns a variety of kings and queens, mostly of dubious morality, and reflects the imperialist attitude of the English mind.  Scotland of course, is still nothing more than a colony under English rule.  The coronation reveals the constitution crafted over many years, entwining the king (because of the mad Henry VIII) with the church, and obliging many an unbelieving monarch to play as head of the church.  Such is the confusion over the constitution that to separate church and state would be a bonanza for the lawyers, take many years, and cost Billions!  

This also does not take into account of attitudes on far off one time colonies.  Their opinion is not sought. 

I am not one to throw eggs at the King, he is there, this is how it is, and if we wish to change it this must be done by debate, not middle class wee boys with placards.  Neither those who support the monarchy, for whatever reason, or those who oppose, will find support from me.  The monarch debate will begin now, especially if Charles dies within 10 years and his dumb son and wife take over.  That really will be the end.

I will watch the coronation, for historical reasons, and to cogitate over those attending at the side of the road or elsewhere.  A procession is always worth watching, and who knows what will happen?

 

Vote! But not for Gas!

Once again we get the exciting opportunity to vote!  

The franchise allowing the common people to vote only began in 1832, and that amongst much opposition and was given to remarkably few.  Many more received the opportunity when the franchise was widened in 1867, thus allowing Alf Garnett's grandfather to vote.  Men such as him, owning a two up, and two down small house worth a rateable value of £7 could now vote, and many took advantage of this to change the world around them.  The 'Working Class Conservative' began at this era, fooled into thinking the 'upper classes' wanted them to join them in running the country.  This was never the intention!  

After the Great War the franchise was extended, men such as agricultural workers, could now vote, as long as they were 21.  Women of 30 and over also could now vote, and it is interesting to consider that the majority of men fighting during the Great War could not vote!   Much loud noise is made concerning the women demanding a vote, we forget the men who also were unable to elect a man of their choice.  

For centuries, since large cities developed, the common man has been led, with an occasional riot to express his opinions, or vague forms of democracy as in ancient Greece.  The vast majority down through time, and possibly today, have little opportunity to cast a vote one way or another, many have died attempting to offer such a freedom.

This morning, just after 8:15 am, I entered the Polling Station, and fought my way through the crowds taking advantage of the privilege of voting.  

There was no-one there.

In front of me were two tables, as is normal, staffed by council two beings with an array of paperwork in front of them.  Being from the council it is difficult to call them human ones.  Either side ranged the actual Polling booths, designed for private scribbling, and all with thick black pencil attached strongly to a rope!  It is always thus!   

As the polling is conducted in the museum hall and the Presiding Officer is the man who runs the museum I knew there was going to be no problems here.  Not only that, another lass, standing at the side reading a magazine, is also always in attendance at elections in the morning.  I suspect similar patterns are found throughout the nation.  

I presented my credentials, the lass looked for my name on the lists, and struggled to find it.  For a moment I wondered if the council, run by Tories, had cut me off.  However, my name was found, correct ID handed over to a man who had to identify me even though he has known me for ten years, and a slip of folded paper with several names was offered to me.

I was also informed I could vote for up to three individuals, so I asked if any were Revolutionary Communists, or Marxists-Leninists, but was informed searching out the individuals was my job.  So, muttering 'Mussolini?'  'Engels?' and so on, I headed for the booth, choose three names, two to avoid the Conservatives, and one because I knew her and consider her to be an able woman, very capable of doing this job for her area.  She may be the only one to get in.

I returned to the tables, folded and posted my ballot, peeked inside the box and muttered "There's only three in there," which may have been about right.  We chatted for a few minutes, not one soul entered.

I had noticed only one leaving as I came up the road.  And as I left, making sure I had my ID and that the boss had not nicked it, I went over to Tesco's.

Tesco's was very quiet.  

I have never seen it so quiet.

I was able to wander about without being run over by trolleys or children.  IN fact only one schoolboy entered for some shoplifting, usually at this time there are many.  The checkout girl chatted, I paid my dues, and limped back up the road, satisfied with my day.  It was not yet 8:45 am when I reached home.  

My day is over thought I.

No more clambering up stairs.

Then I remembered I had to put the rubbish out, and check the gas meter.

Much later this I did.

The rubbish and recycling bags were taken down and placed in appropriate places.  I then scanned the area around hoping for something interesting to occur, it failed to do so.  So, once again upstairs in spite of the muck left by the man plastering next doors ceiling.

Then I remembered the gas meter!

Fool, that was one of the reasons to go downstairs.

So, back down, check the reading, scribble it down, and once more clamber Edmund Hilary like, up the stairs.  I entered the reading on the Rip-Off British Gas site, noticing that last months had been estimated.  My reading was 08567, their estimate for last month was 08999, the word 'crook' crossed my mind for some reason.  I await their response, which may be delayed by someone being King for a day and the Holiday Monday afterwards.  It may be interesting reading.

Jab, Vote and Home

 

Last night's sunset as seen through the filthy window in my filthy living room.  The bright sun glowing over the horse meat factory in the industrial estate, industrial as in closed by Brexit that is, and brightening the evening sky.

Today, as I looked out the window, clearing away the lunchtime crumbs, I noticed dark clouds pushed past by the wind eager to drop rain as they knew I was about to hobble up to the hospital for the second Jab.  I was not pleased, it was cold, wet and windy, so l donned my winter garb, prepared myself for the jab, and walked out into bright, indeed, hot sunshine!  Typical!  I sweltered as, being late, I rushed gasping along the road.  Almost twenty minutes it took to get there and I had to get there on time.  Strict time is an important part of these Jabs.

There was the well usual organised set-up.  A minutes wait, questioned by the volunteer Stasi, then a short socially distanced queue before being sent in to Nurse Number 2.  Efficient and capable, both nurse and admin, swiftly I was questioned, jabbed, informed and thrown out the back door so as not to upset the ones waiting outside.  Simple efficient and no hang up's, so far.

And I then had to go elsewhere. 

 

 

I hobbled round to the museum Hall, used as a Polling Booth to vote, followed the instructions and waited at the door chatting to an attractive, efficient young woman, who was acting guard.  However, I was choking as walking down the street unmasked I swallowed a fly, or some such object, and was none to pleased with life.  Neither indeed were the people trying to avoid me as I coughed, all of them thinking I had Covid when in fact I had a wee beastie trying to kill me.  So, uncomfortable as I was I entered to meet the usual crew, including the Museum boss who acts as local election agent.  Money goes to money!  Marking my X in the required spot, the spot marked 'anyone but a Tory,' I placed both forms (County Council and Police Commissioner) in the box knowing both would support the loser.  The Conservative sheep were slowly passing through, all placing their X dutifully for the man who would soon vote to remove all the amenities they use because 'the Council cannot afford them.'  Their expenses will increase soon enough mind.

 

 

 

So it was time for home, food and WHAT!?  No football tonight?  This canny be right!  But it is.  The end of season means so few games left now.  One or two leagues still to finish, one or two play-offs to go through, then nothing!  

I may start seeing spiders climbing up the wall soon.   

Dearie me, even Fridays have little, only an English game there.  Tsk!