Posted in Family, Personal life

Young Voters

Angleterre Suffragette
Image by George Eastman House via Flickr

In the run up to last month’s general election, I felt it was my maternal duty to make my small daughter aware that she was living through a historic moment.

I have a few memories of national and international import from my own childhood.  Kennedy’s assassination, chiefly because it was the only time our next door neighbour came in to our house unannounced and the only time I saw her cry.  Winston Churchill’s funeral: I had no idea who he was, but I knew that he was A Great Man.  The first footstep of mankind on the moon: unlike most British children, I experienced this in the afternoon, because at that point my family lived in California.

So I had not expected Laura to be especially interested in the election, especially considering her school, unlike her cousin’s, was not closed for the day to be used as a polling station.  (What a great way to instil a love of democracy in young children.)  To my surprise, she followed the election news avidly and quickly formed strong and independent political views.

Firstly, she favoured Gordon Brown as “president” because he shared a Christian name with her Daddy.  She also clamoured for an orange diamond on a stick to be displayed in our front garden because her best friend had one in hers.  She liked the local Lib Dem’s alliterative slogan: “Win With Webb” and was gratified when he did.

“Why don’t they make Win With Webb president?” she asked.  “He sounds good.”

Well, there are worse reasons.

She certainly pipped me at the post for early political awareness.  Despite growing up in Edward Heath’s constituency, my main perception of his importance was that he opened my brother’s grammar school fete.  Otherwise, my main childhood recollection of politics was a playground skipping rhyme, each girl stepping into the turning rope as her name was called:

“Vote, vote, vote for little Debbie,

Calling Debbie at the door,

For Debbie is a lady

And she’s going to have a baby

So we won’t vote for Debbie any more.

CHUCK HER OUT!”

To our way of thinking, this dismissal seemed only fair.  Astonishing, then, that the Prime Minister to emerge from first election in which my generation was old enough to vote was a lady by the name of Margaret.  It seems like ancient history now.

(This post originally appeared in the Tetbury Advertiser, June 2010)

Author:

Optimistic author, blogger, journalist, book reviewer and public speaker whose life revolves around books. Her first love is writing fiction, including the new Sophie Sayers Village Mystery novels (out 2017), short stories and essays inspired by her life in an English village. She also writes how-to books for authors and books about living with Type 1 diabetes. She is Author Advice Centre Editor and and UK Ambassador for the Alliance of Independent Authors (ALLi) Advice Centre blog, an ambassador for the children's reading charity Readathon, and an official speaker for the diabetes research charity JDRF.

Join the conversation - leave a comment!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s