A foray into politics (stop yawning!)

I've always been mildly interested in politics.  To be honest, I didn't have a great deal of choice in the matter; my Dad thought it was of importance that I learned something about how the country was run.  When I was a little girl in the Eighties he tried to explain the difference between the Conservative, Labour and Liberal parties by saying "Imagine a cow.  Now...the Conservatives would only give the milk to the rich, Labour would only give it to the poor and the Liberals would give it to everyone".  It was a genius explanation I've (obviously!) never forgotten.  Dinner times would sometimes be peppered with Dad's questions, such as "who lives at Number Eleven Downing Street?"  But I'll stop there, before you start getting too jealous of all the mad fun and frolics present in my childhood home.

As I grew into my teens I thought politics might just be a good career path for me; it seemed like an important sort of job to have.  One with a bit of gravitas.  So I mentioned it when I went to see our school's careers advisor, who took out a file marked 'Politics' for me to read, inside which was a cassette tape with a picture of an uncharacteristically angry-looking John Major on the inlay card.  I took one look at it and handed the file back.  "Have you got anything on journalism?" I asked, and that was to be the end of my short-lived political aspiration.

Now I'm old enough to admit it, I have to say I quite enjoy reading political memoirs and reading the 'Politics' sections of newspapers.  But I also have to say how much I dislike the bland uniformity of politicians and their policies now.  You'd have a job, getting kids at all interested in politics these days with the current lot on offer.  It's as though they've all turned into robots.  Say what you like about Margaret Thatcher and Tony Blair; at least they were inspirational leaders you could either get behind or deride with some sort of interest, or passion, which is what seems to be entirely missing these days.

Last week one of our local candidates knocked on the door.  "Hello..." he said, with all the charisma of a damp cauliflower.  "I'm just doing a door-to-door service to find out what issues people have got in the area.  What do you want us to do?"  


It was a tempting question...but (perhaps unfairly) I looked at his vacant, glassy-eyed expression that told me that whatever I said would get a bland "I'll take that on board" sort of comment that would promptly be forgotten about as soon as I closed the door.  So I said I didn't have anything to tell him.  He looked faintly relieved.

"Can I just tick what party you support, before I leave?" he asked.  I replied that I didn't support any one party; I just read all the manifestos and then vote for whichever one makes the most sense.  "You actually read the manifestos?" he said with a raised eyebrow.  "My goodness - I don't think even I've read ours".  Then he smiled.  I think that was supposed to be a joke, but I'm not entirely sure.

Later that day I mentioned my encounter with the politician to a friend of mine, who is a father of two.  "I don't bother with all that," he said "...they're all the same, aren't they?"  His little girl was in the room when he said this, and my Dad's spirit immediately rose up in me.  "You can't say that in front of your kids!" I said, only half-joking.  "How are they going have any pride in learning about how we run the country, and their part in it?" (I can be a pompous cow at times).

At this, my friend's little girl came over to me.  "What should we be learning, then?" she asked.  I thought for a moment, and then I said "Imagine a cow.  Now...the Conservatives would only give the milk to the rich, Labour would only...oh, actually I don't know any more...just forget it!"