We have a general election on 17 March and the telephone calls have started. - Sorry but I do not understand you. Would you prefer me to speak in English? [I would prefer not to listen/talk but I do not wish to appear rude, so agree that English would be better] Are you going to vote? - I do not know. Why? - I am not sure I can get to the polling station [I can but not if it is raining]. We will send someone to pick you up and take you. - I am in an electric wheelchair. That is OK we will send someone with a van with a lift for you and your chair. [Then came my usual] - But I cannot leave my dog. Your dog can come with you in the van. - But what will she do when I go in to vote? The driver will hold her outside for you. Somehow I do not think that De Dawg being happy with that situation, waiting with a stranger while I disappear into the polling station. Unless he is 6' tall and extremely strong, she will drag him in after me. I cannot hook her leash onto one of my handles as the corridor to get into the actual polling room is very narrow with a sharp turn at the end, and last time I voted I could only just get my chair through. To manouver it with De Dawg hooked on will be positively dangerous and I am not prepared to risk her getting squashed between my chair and the wall by the turn. But the truth is that for the first time in nearly 30 years I have absolutely no idea who to vote for. We have two votes, one for the party [proportional representation] and one for the Prime Minister, and each party/PM candidate is as bad as the others. My vote will not make any difference in any case as we will end up with yet another coalition government which will make just as much a mess of things as they always do. SIGH
