It was about nine o’clock in the evening on the 3rd of May, the day before the local elections. I was in the countryside outside Barcombe Cross, getting the vote in. There was an hour or so before the polling stations closed and the light was fading. The beam of my torch picked out a drive off the main road. Was I going to make one last effort? I’d already got someone out the bath. I didn’t want to end the day on a low note. I screwed up my courage and turned up the drive. Security gates loomed in front of a large house. I could see CCTV cameras and an intercom system. I pressed the button.
There was a series of bleeps and buzzes, then.
‘Hello?’
“Hello” I said, ‘I’m your Green Party candidate. I wondered if you managed to vote today?’
‘I’m in the Bahamas,’ came the lofty reply. Then after a pause. ‘Don’t worry, you got my postal vote … Got to get these idiots out.’
‘Thank you for your support’ I said, as the intercom clicked off. I turned back towards the road, the gravel crunching under my feet. A big Sussex sky twinkled with stars. ‘I think we might have won this’, I whispered to myself and the firmament.
Storms clouds gathered over conservative heads
The next day at the count was a complete blur. I’m new to local politics and understood very little of what was going on. The town hall was a tumultuous cavern of activity, with people milling around, pointing, peering over their shoulders, jostling, and positioning themselves. The tables were stacked with papers, pens, string, boxes of elastic bands and … clothes pegs? Somebody thrust a clipboard and pen into my hands, and I was pushed towards a table. Boxes of ballot papers were tipped out. We were told to record the batch votes as they were sorted. I scribbled down my tally, struggling to focus on three pairs of hands slicing the ballot papers off the table. I glanced down. The paper in my hand resembled a Celtic rune. I peered at it. It looked like we were ahead! Had I got it all wrong? The tally ended and we compared notes. No, I was right, we had a sizeable lead.
After a coffee break in which storm clouds gathered over conservative heads, the count proper began and the reason for the clothes pegs, which had so confused me, became evident. The hall slowly transformed itself into a Christmas decorations factory as the split vote ballots were counted and pegged together in long runs. And what a Christmas present! We had won! Up until that point I was convinced someone had made a mistake, but now victory was indisputable.
I was elated of course, but I was also struck by the fact that now this really was for real. I had been voted in. I had stood to be a representative of the community and people had put their trust in me. It’s a sobering moment for anyone who gets caught up in the theatre of politics: that moment when you realise that it is also very, very real.
The Green Party wins – and work begins
Over the next few days this realisation sunk in. Yes, I and my Green Party colleagues celebrated. It had been nine months of knocking on peoples’ doors, leafletting, listening, talking, and occasionally being shouted at. We had pulled off a real victory and it felt like we’d earned the right. But the euphoria quickly evaporated, and as friends and neighbours congratulated me, often in a ‘rather you than me’ sort of way, I began thinking, what have I let myself in for?
What I let myself in for was a steep learning curve. I have learned an enormous amount in four short months. Working as a district councillor is a constant succession of highs and lows. One moment you are excited that you’ve managed to put something right for someone, the next you’re confronted with an intractable problem in which both sides are bound to lose. In the space of a day, you can be appalled by the state in which people leave public toilets and amazed by their overwhelming generosity of spirit. You can feel like the eternal skivvy, sorting out the bins, noisy neighbours, and overgrown verges, then find yourself taking part in high-level discussions that will shape the economic future for all of us in the district for years.
Six months in and I have no regrets. It’s challenging working in local politics and I have nothing but admiration for most of our council officers who are amazingly professional, dedicated and calm under enormous pressure. Yes, we get pilloried and criticised often for things we have no control over and, yes, it can be gutting at times. But if you have been entrusted with making decisions for a community you have to be able to take the rough with the smooth. It’s not all dog shit and potholes.
