Politics by Other Means

May 22, 2019

Enjoying a post-lunch ice cream with the other half in Bigtown yesterday we were startled to encounter what sounded like a Brexit Party rally on the High Street, complete with cheering at Nigel Farage’s name and pantomime-style booing at Nicola Sturgeon’s. Closer inspection (but not too close) revealed that this was in fact a recording, and the actual Brexit Party stall was three balding men handing out flyers while the entire town resolutely ignored them and got on with their lunchtime shopping.* I know not everyone who reads this is a remainer, but the whole setup was strange and actually pretty obnoxious – it’s the first time ever that I’d wished the guy who busks with his bagpipes further up the high street was a) louder and b) closer.

A short time later, I found myself heading into Bigtown again for a very different kind of political gathering which started, for reasons which made perfect sense at the time, with the police being invited to take their kit off if they wanted to remain (they made their excuses and left). I decided by the end that, while I wish them well, I’m probably not cut out to be an eco-warrior – the warrior part I could manage, but the meetings part may need some work, at least as far as the Bigtown chapter goes. On the other hand, it was a lovely day and an even lovelier evening and so two trips to Bigtown in one day was no hardship.

ash tree

Fortunately tomorrow we also all have an opportunity to do politics by traditional means – I hope everyone who can, whatever their opinions, will be getting themselves down to the polling station to vote.

vote by bike

Bonus points for getting there by bike

* I gather that later on there were some full and frank exchanges of views.

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Some Politics is More Local than Others

March 29, 2017

As my twitter timeline went into meltdown over the triggering of Article 50, I was busy concentrating on some rather more local politics. For today was not just momentous/disastrous (delete as applicable silently in your head and don’t feel you have to tell me in the comments) for Brexit, it was also the day nominations closed for the Scottish local elections, blowing the starting whistle on the Walk Cycle Vote campaign.

So today has mostly been spent starting to get a mass of unruly data into something that will ultimately become our candidate database – and marvelling at the vagaries of local politics. This, it appears, gets progressively more idiosyncratic the further you are from the centre, with some of the outlying parts of Scotland eschewing party politics altogether, and others featuring a bewildering array of independents (if anyone would like to explain to me the difference between aligned and unaligned independents I’d be grateful). Interestingly, while some council wards are hotly contested, with ten or more candidates battling it out for just three seats, in others candidates have already been elected unopposed. I hope you’re happy with the coonsil, people of South Kintyre, because you aren’t going to get a chance to tell your candidates at the ballot box this time around. Shame it’s too late to get a Cycling Party together in time for the nominations.

And, talking of rotten boroughs, today was an even more momentous day in local politics as someone has finally come forward to be secretary of Old Nearest Village community council. Oh frabjuous day. I don’t know her, but she knows me – for as I rang her up to seal the deal before she got cold feet, she asked me if I’d been out on my bike on such a grim day. Clearly my reputation precedes me …


Pathetic Fallacy

November 9, 2016

You know, if anyone on my creative writing course had turned in a plot like the last few months we’ve had, they’d have been jumped on:

‘OK, I see what you’re doing with the narrator waking on the morning of the election and there’s snow everywhere, but I think you’re over-egging it. And besides, it’s November. It’s hardly going to snow in November.’

‘Besides, you know there are just too many elections in the book. I mean, it’s getting a bit samey: the Scottish one, and then the general election, and then Britain going out of the EU …’

‘… which was kind of testing our suspension of disbelief anyway …’

‘… and then having someone like Trump running for president, I mean I know it’s satire, but you’ve got to keep it within the realms of the possible …’

‘… but I just keep coming back to the snow. Even if you accept that people would actually be that stupid as to vote for the guy, having it snow in November is too much. I mean, come on…’

Still, in my experience, the Weather Gods can be relied on never to miss the opportunity to overdo things…

hazel bush weighed down by snow

Hazel bush bowed down by the weight of snow. Just too bloody perfect a metaphor

I have nothing to add to all that has been written and said and all that will be written and said about the American election. They say the darkest hour is just before dawn, so perhaps some good will come out of it. Or perhaps things will just go on getting darker. Ever since Brexit my inclination has been to turn inwards: to concentrate on the things that I can do something about and let the rest of the world go to hang. Cycle campaigning I can do. Saving the world is beyond my paygrade. And I’ll take what comfort where I can…

So today has been a day for knitting, hanging curtains and installing smoke alarms. The latter feels especially necessary.

egg cosy