Monday, 19 April 2010

Oliver Letwin MP on my doorstep

Bugger me, that nice Mr Letwin has just knocked on my door, asking for my vote. Does he not know I've been accused of sedition by one of his most ardent supporters in this village?

'Hello, I'm Oliver Letwin,' he says.

And I nearly say 'Yes, I know, although you look different without the horns, moustache and specs.' But I don't. Obviously.

'Can I count on your vote?' he says.

'Well, at least one half of the household,' I say.

'Your husband? Are you wavering?' he says.

'You could say that,' I say, and then blurt out: 'I think you're a great constituency MP' as if I've got George Clooney on the doorstep.

Mr Letwin smiles sweetly. He is a very nice man, even if he did write the Conservative Party manifesto.

I shuffle, we both look embarrassed, the clock strikes thirteen and a tumbleweed blows past. Just as I wonder what to say, the frozen-moment chasm is filled by the UKIP ice cream van going by, flags-a-waving, a military march-a-blaring.

That's about it.

Love Maddie x
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9 comments:

  1. number one step daughter19 April 2010 15:26

    I can completely picture this moment- has bought a smile to my lips.

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  2. Poor chap. I don't think he knew what to say, did he?

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  3. It's for times like this that one might wish for one of those mirrors aimed at the front door from a hidden vantage point - to avert such embarrassing moments.

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  4. I know what I'll say if he comes to my door! But it's not printable in polite company...

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  5. "Mr Grigg and I sit on opposite sides of the fence,"
    So I guess neither of you will venture out on May 6th.....all the three main parties are sitting right on top of the fence! Can't tell them apart, can we?

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  6. I know how you feel - as our local MP he's been very good to us personally - he helped us out when my husband was very ill in hospital and I was struggling with claiming some benefits to stop us losing our house. That does not necessarily translate to him being the man for the job this time though. If he does turn up on the doorstep, I have my answer off pat - geography & generation prevent me from ever voting Tory - I grew up in Nottinghamshire in the 70's & 80's and can remember when my milk disappeared, followed by my school books, and then the jobs went along with the mines and factories and inflation went through the roof, along with interest rates. Some of us live here now because we just couldn't stay where we grew up if we wanted to work.

    So sorry, Oliver, you're just not the man for me. And Maddie, if George Clooney does turn up on your doorstep, could you send him to Maiden Newton, pretty please??

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  7. Thanks for being the first to follow LUCY AND ESTHER TAKE ON THE ELECTION!

    On non-election matters - my washing machine is broken; I'm staggered by the cost of launderettes and have nearly all of three weeks backlog of grubby clothes on the landing. (The spare part will come . . . the spare part will come . . . the spare . . . )

    About your UKIP van - only yesterday, we were thinking how odd it is that we have had no loudspeaker vans round our way yet except for the ice-cream one. UKIP, I would guess, is a lot more entertaining than 'Just one (more) Cornetto'.

    Lucy

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  8. We had Boris on the doorstep last night, but, amidst much giggling and "go on's", neither of us would answer the door. The blond one disappeared with his entourage in tow.

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  9. Well at least they have knocked at your door! All I've had so far is a representative from the local council about refuse collection.

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