What floats your vote? #2
Thursday, May 03, 2007

Ever since I've been interested in politics, I've wondered what it must be like to live in a marginal constituency.

Over the years, I got to know my local MP, Ted Rowlands, reasonably well. We met at various music events as his wife gave out the prizes. All I knew was that my Dad didn't like him very much. And time after time I'd watch the election results come in, and it would always be the same. 'What's the point of that?', I thought.

But two years ago in Cambridge, it got a bit more interesting. I remember thousands of people queuing in market square just to catch a glimpse of Charles Kennedy. The Guildhall was so full he came out and gave an impromptu speech. It wasn't the best, but he delivered it without falling off his soap box and the crowd gave a huge cheer.

It felt like politics mattered and that change was in the air. In the end, the Lib Dems gained the seat in what turned out to be a miserable night for Labour. (I should stress that I have a natural disinclination towards any mass-participation shouting/cheering activities and I was there purely as an interested observer.)

Now, as I push open my front door and the inevitable avalanche of Lib Dem leaflets pushes back, it seems like I'm back to square one. There's simply no chance of anyone else winning in Cardiff Central.

But this is where Wales' much-maligned electoral system comes into its own. Because on the regional list, my vote may actually make a difference.

I'm still floating, but I'm now more of an Onken mousse than a packet of Maltesers. I've narrowed the field and I'm ready to plunge my electoral spoon. (That's about as far as this metaphor can go:)

Also plunging spoons will be Rhodri Morgan, voting at 8am in a caravan, and Nick Bourne, voting at 10.30am in Cardiff South. Note that even he's not voting for himself in Mid & West Wales - and if Glyn Davies, second on that list, loses out by one or two votes he'll be fuming as he goes back to a life of driving around in a tractor with no trousers on.

So it's all to play for and my vote's still up for grabs. The other day I asked Jenny Randerson to sort out my bins. She still hasn't done it. Maybe that will cost her.

By the way, the Conservative candidate for Cardiff Central came along to Bloggers drinks the other night. If there's anything more sad than being a blogger, it's not being a blogger and going along to a blogger's party. I can't decide whether to vote for him out of sympathy or question his sanity, and therefore the legitimacy of his candidacy.

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