Growing old disgracefully

By GOD

VOTING

A few years ago, the Prof and I were abroad during a general election, so we applied for a postal vote. The system automatically retains postal voters and we never got round to opting out.

I miss it - the early morning trip to the polling station; the closing of the curtain, that moment when I make the cross with the stubby pencil; the folding of the slip and sticking it in that narrow slot. I feel surrounded in that moment by clouds of witnesses...all those women who marched, starved and died so I could have this opportunity...and I honour them. I also sense the presence of my Dad, travelling across a stormy sea in 1955 towards Arisaig, accompanying the ballot box, witnessing the authenticity of the the Island of Eigg ballot papers.

Exercising my democratic duty has always been important to me, and never more so than now. It took a long, long time to make a decision. I have made it only after lots of reading, conversations with everyone I met in the flesh and on Facebook and online research. All the while I was questioning not only my intellect but my integrity. Never more than now have I wanted to get this right. There remains some uncertainty for I'm not a flag waving passionate supporter of either option, just someone making my best stab at the choice. I might have got it wrong. Not even time will tell as we will never know how it might have been were the result different from the one we will all know on 19 September.

I'm exercising my democratic right not to tell tell you how I voted - although you can probably guess. I am so grateful for the opportunity to vote without intimidation and without the threat of corruption. It is a huge privilege.

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