Nine days to go till the election and no canvassers have knocked on our door yet. Not a single one. My father, who lives in a small Dorset village, has had political candidates queuing down the lane over the past two weeks. He’s been bombarded with emails and had a flood of literature cascading through his letterbox.
Our house is 100 miles north, slap-bang in the centre of an Oxfordshire market town. It’s a stone’s throw from Marks & Spencer, Caffe Nero and the town hall, so it’s hardly off the beaten track. Three of us are eligible to vote but so far no one’s bothered to pitch up and ask about our voting intentions. There’s been one leaflet from the incumbent Tory MP, one Labour and one Green, and that’s it – all very lacklustre affairs. We’ve heard nothing from the Liberal Democrats at all.
My 18-year-old daughter, voting for the first time, isn’t impressed by this political no-show. So much for young voters being apathetic about politics, she’s champing at the bit to get into the polling booth on May 6 (at 7am, before school) and is keen to put the candidates through their paces.
It’s just possible though, that if our prospective parliamentary candidates got wind of my abysmal voting record, they’d give our street an even wider berth.
It’s not that I haven’t turned out to vote in the past. I’ve voted in every election since Margaret Thatcher came to power in 1979. The trouble is that I’ve never managed to vote for the winning party, largely due to the fact that I had a Liberal Democrat habit in the days when Nick Clegg was still a prep school boy in short trousers.
Now, just when Nick Clegg, resplendent in his golden tie, is being lauded the length and breadth of the country, I’ve gone off the Lib Dems. While loads of other people have started thinking they might be worth a shot, I’m really not so sure.