It's election day. I haven't voted yet - I've been sitting in this sunny garden among the scent of the bluebells reading in The Guardian - or should that now be the guardian? - why voting for the Nationalists might not be a good idea. Actually, I probably wouldn't anyway. I tend to vote tactically for the parliamentary elections and personally for the council - and I must say it's great having an issue with the Roads department in the run-up to an election! Such attentiveness ...
And yet, as I think about strolling up to the polling station, I can't help a small twinge of rebellion - a sort of 'damn the consequences' moment. I'll see how long the twinge lasts.
My garden is where I was teaching last night. One of my students was discussing her choices for revision in view of next Friday's Higher English. She's sticking to poetry and prose - and probably hoping for MacCaig and Lessing - because she didn't really get studying drama this year. And guess what - she's really fed up that the class abandoned Shakespeare for Meedja Studies. She doesn't feel it's really English.
I laughed at her - told her she was a real traditionalist. But guess what? She made my day.
Took me ages to vote today. I stood there with the same thought as you... will I? What if?
ReplyDeleteAnd I did...