Friday, April 27, 2007



It is slightly strange to go canvassing on my own street - I don't know what to expect, and somehow anything other than a definite "yes" from a near neighbour feels more like a personal sleight than anything else. Why I should think that geographical proximity to my house should alter voting intentions is something that I can't quite put my finger on... But the feeling is there all the same.

Having said that, I am never happy with canvassing. Even though I get to meet lots of lovely people and talk the issues through, and even though the response has been very positive on every night we've been out, nothing would be good enough to make me go home feeling truly happy. I still want 500 definite supporters identified every night, a procession of followers getting bigger at every door, me playing a flute and leading a band of merry men through the streets, bunting, trumpets, fireworks, dancing, elephants balancing on beachballs, lions roaring, and the elections cancelled in favour of a million man march on Downing Street demanding the replacement of the monarchy and government with my immediate installation as President-for-Life.

But that's pretty unlikely to happen, I have to say. And I think I'd be a little uncomfortable if it did. And so, instead, I have to ride the emotional roller-coaster that is finding that the occasional near neighbour remains undecided...


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