Election day

"Reconciliation in bonobos is a notoriously sexy affair." - this week's New Scientist

Because, really, you have to quote something like that in and out of context.

In other news, today is the fifth of the fifth of the fifth (thank you, Radio Four!) and the day of the general election. And, amazingly, I am eighteen years and three months old. I can vote! And, dammit, I'm going to. Polling stations close in three hours, so I probably should get a move on (my polling station is the village hall on Timms Lane)

Scratch that. In the middle of that sentence I decided to stop talking and start walking, so to speak, and wandered out to Timms Lane. There are a lot of people there, getting home from work and then voting (some people I know went first thing this morning). The polling station opened at six am and will be open for hours yet, and apparently the same people are manning it all that time. I don't envy them their jobs, but they were very nice to me - the woman handing me my ballot paper gave me a big grin and said, "Just caught you!"

Well, yeah. Not many people get to vote aged eighteen years and three months.

So, I have VOTED. And everyone else who hasn't yet, please, please, please get out there and vote. Spoil your ballot paper if you have to, but as hathy_col has already said, if you are a woman or a man who is not a member of the landed gentry, people died for your right to vote. Please go forth and do so.

My ballot paper was a sight to behold - in the end, the constituency of Crosby (it's a good link - although as anyone who has sent me a postcard will know, I live in Freshfield, which is described rather disturbingly in the blurb) featured Labour, Tory, Lib Dem, Ukip, Christian Democrat and Communist candidates. Really. The Christian Democrats are fundamentally disturbing as well - their manifesto came through the door, and seems to be entirely devoted to reinstating Section 28 (and contains the word "homosex"!) - as are Ukip, but I feel nothing but amusement about the Communists. The candidate is called Geoff Bottoms. Poor, poor guy.

[Last time ours was one of the first constituencies to be announced. I'm definitely staying up tonight, as polls close at ten.]

And while I've spent some time rambling about the real election, it was actually the mock election which took up most of my time today. I went down to vote in the morning (yes, I voted for myself, and everyone else can just deal) having recieved a wonderfully uplifting text from hathy_col, which made me feel far more ready to face a day of outright hostility. It was, it really was - I had stuff thrown, shouted abuse, slurs on my parentage, ancestry and sexual preference, and when they couldn't think of anything else, passive-aggresion - but the votes did keep coming in. I couldn't go down at break because of a long, long meeting for the outgoing committee chairs, but by lunchtime, there were hundreds of people. I attempted to do some Chemistry revision without any success at all.

At four o'clock, I'd had enough. I went back to the library to see the polling station closed, nipped out for some chocolate, and when I got back they were counting votes. I wasn't allowed to help. I did consider going to bug the first-years in detention on the other side of the library, but then had a happy inspiration - I'd calculate the turnout. Twenty minutes later, I reckoned the Merchant Taylors' election turnout was 514 out of 670 (that's including about fifty staff), 76.7%. More than three quarters of people voted. I was impressed.

And then they finished counting the votes. The Conservatives won. Well, they would. Public school and all that jazz. Beth, the candidate, got 165 votes.

I got 105. And Lucy, Lib Dem candidate, got 104. I came second by one vote (Respect and the Greens were trailing hopelessly behind). I wasn't sure whether I should feel happy about it or not. Then someone gently reminded me that in 2001, four years ago, pre-Iraq, the mock election had Labour a miserable last place. I'd actually improved. And Mr Evans and Miss Hathaway and everyone else did their level best to cheer me up, telling me that I'd shaken people up. People, especially teachers (this according to our incredibly indiscreet returning officer) who'd never voted Labour in their lives had been considering it, because of me.

Tomorrow, I have to wear my rosette and smile as Beth gives her acceptance speech. I can manage that. And, really, I didn't do too badly, considering the demographic and outside circumstances.

So yay for democracy. And please, if you can, vote.