general election 2010

05:30 My alarm goes off. The big day has arrived. Today in Stevenage we will be voting for a member of parliament and local councillors. I stumble around my flat, half asleep, hoping I will wake up soon.

I’m starting the day ‘telling’ at Fry Road. I need to be there for opening at 7:00. Telling involves sitting outside of a polling station asking for voters’ polling card number.

06:30 I leave home. It’s bright and crisp and way too early. I walk to the polling station, there are no other tellers around when I arrive. The Labour teller turns up. We shake hands and introduce ourselves. Howard is a Labour councillor for the ward although not running this year.

The polling officer brings us a cup off coffee, which was nice of her. She didn’t have to. Early morning voters turn up on their way to work. Everyone seems happy to be voting. There is a kind of holiday atmosphere.

Howard gets out the Guardian crossword. I’m no good with crosswords but get a couple. We are mostly stuck. The two hours pass quickly, chatting to Howard about music and football in Stevenage. These both come under his brief.

09:30 I arrive at my parents place for breakfast. They live near Fry Road so this saves me from going home. I talk politics with my Dad, then have nap. Later, my Mum comes in for lunch.

13:00 I am back at Fry Road for two hours. There is no Labour teller this time. Are they very confident or overworked? I catch the end of the lunch time rush, then it goes quiet.

Rules regarding political activity near polling stations are strict. You can’t attempt to influence a voter or even ask for a card number as they go into the station. You have to wait until they come out. You can’t ask people how they voted, just their polling card number. They’re under no obligation to answer. You can only ask once.

The problem is that on the way out of the polling station voters no longer have their polling card with them. Few people remember their number. So you ask for the first line of their address instead.

15:30 I arrive home. I voted by post a few days earlier so I do not have to vote today.

In the weeks before the election we canvassed homes looking for potential supporters. With the information gathered from telling we can tell if our potential voters turned out.

On polling day, if things are looking close, we drop in on non-voters to remind them to vote, offer lifts to the polling stations etc. This is called ‘knocking up’.

I’m on stand-by for ‘knocking up’. I play World of Warcraft with the TV on in the background. It looks like it’s going to be a big turn out.

20:00 I have not been called up to do any ‘knocking up’. It is unlikely I will be now as the polls shut at 22:00. Either the vote isn’t close or they have forgotten I exist.

I’m due to be monitoring the count at Stevenage Leisure Centre as an ‘Official Counting Agent’ tonight. I’ve been advised to get there sometime after midnight, “Not much happens before then”.

22:00 I’m off out to the count via the Red Lion. I need a break from all this grown up, sensible, respectable behaviour, so I go watch some live music. Thrash metal – not really my thing, but it breaks up the day.

00:30 I’m on my way to the count. My first ever count, I’m quite excited even though there is little chance of a LibDem win in Stevenage.

Continued tomorrow with the the general election count.

I bought the new home and away tops. More accurately, my parents bought them for me. I refuse to buy the latest team kit, as I think the whole thing is a complete rip off.

But my mother said, “You can’t go all the way to South Africa and not have the latest shirts.” I sure can, but she insisted, so I bought them.

I like this latest strip. I think the retro look is smart.

home and away england shirts

I wore the home shirt to see England v Egypt on Wednesday. It was a good match. England played well, against some good opposition. They won 3-1, after going behind 0-1 in the first half. They showed character, missing before.

Are the good enough to go all the way in South Africa?

If they do, I’ll not be there. My money runs out after the last 16 game. I’ll be watching the later stages back home in England. Which is not such a bad thing, there whole country parties when England gets a good run in the world cup.

Less than 100 days until the tournament starts. More importantly, 15 days until I have to pay the balance for my flight and hotel in Cape Town.

I am trying not to wish my life away at the moment.

I’d already seen most of the first two series. I’ve been watching one an evening since October, and it’s been great viewing. I’m just getting to the end of series 4.

The Wire is a powerful stuff. It’s overpowering when you watch all 60 episodes end-to-end. And depressing, the US looks completely dysfunctional. Perhaps the fact that TV shows like The Wire are being produced is reason for optimism.

I love the theme tune. I hadn’t realised that there’s a different version for each series until I watched them back-to-back.

Here’s Tom Waits with a live version. I think it was him on series two.

Which reminds me, It’s about time I went down The Blues at the Red.

They grew loads and passed some around. Which is just as well as mine died. To put them to good use, I’ve decided to have a Mexican theme for my meals this week.

I’ve never cooked much Mexican food. OK, I’ve been cooking chilli since my student days, but I doubt if any Mexican would recognize my chilli as such.

I did have a phase of eating TexMex a few years ago. The Break for the Border restaurants in London were a favourite venue for my birthdays. I love fajitas. And the beer with a slice of lime in the top, was all the rage for posing with a decade ago.

But this week I intend to try cooking some authentic Mexican food. Should be fun if nothing else. It’ll probably turn out as nothing else.

If I don’t post for a while, it’ll be down to chilli overload.

let them eat cake

It’s my birthday today. I celebrated a little at the weekend, and was shocked to find out how much a night pubbing and clubbing now costs. It’s time to stop celebrating birthdays.

On Sunday I visited my parents. The rest of my family was there, which was nice. We still mark everyone’s birthday with a cake and singing “Happy Birthday”. It’s for the kids. Honestly it is.

I was given smelly stuff, some sports tops and The Wire box set. All five series. I have only seen the first series all the way through. So I am looking forward to watching one episode an evening for the next few months.

As it was my birthday, I got to pick the meal. I went for a Chinese takeaway. This was always a treat when I was a kid. I rarely eat takeaway these days. It is my birthday treat to myself.

As I was cutting my cake, my mother said something strange. My parents had given me a card which said on the outside:

“As another year goes by, remember that while GROWING OLDER may be mandatory”

Then when opened:

“… GROWING UP is optional.”

My mother asked if I knew what ‘mandatory’ meant. An unusual question to ask of a political journalist.

Sometimes I am sure I am missing something.

Up to this point I had avoided punk on the principle that if my sister liked it then I didn’t. My sister had been hard core from early on.

My sister was then a hair dresser working in London. She was well into all the hair-styles that punks were experimenting with. Once on her way to a gig in London, a bus driver wouldn’t let her on the bus because she had green hair.

Thirty years on and punk style is almost main stream. But, back in 70s, it was an anti-establishment social movement. The music was only a small part of it. A joke at the expense of the BBC and the music industry.

My mum bought my sister No More Heroes by the Stranglers as a present. But she didn’t want it. Apparently they weren’t, “True Punk.” So she gave it to me.

After listening to No More I understood what all the fuss was about. It was completely different to anything else playing on Radio1 at the time.

Later on, I saw The Stranglers a couple of times live, including Reading festival around 86. I still love the clacky bass and pipe organ sound.

This track is from Rattus Novergicus. Their best album I think. It takes me back to being a student in London, and spending a lot of my summers Hanging Around.

I like this video, it captures the completely non-professionals mood of early punk.