I know, I know, but it is important. The English Vote. We’re told we’re all doomed.
For those southerners who reside in these parts and have a vote are going to scupper the whole project. It’s not what I hear on the streets, but it is peddled by our wonderful media.
We’ve read before some fine words from Mark Frankland. Here’s his latest piece. It’s really quite illuminating. For it touches on the differences in society in different parts; and it does so with the help of a young immigrant, whilst using his own long experience of being an Englishman in Scotland. Read it and weep.
Now what this says is that social attitudes change; some parts of the country different to others. And it leads us on to folk choosing to settle in Scotland for any number of reasons, finding a different society and opting to stay. And that leads on to the future and our hopes; our quest to make it better yet, far better.
So what do you think Mark and young Temi will do, and why? I know my views.
Since setting these words down we’ve all been out to vote, or some of us have. Hereabouts only one cross has been required; European elections. But further south some of the local councils have been up for grabs, and that brings the most honoured guest on Question Time, the odious Mr Farage with his racist bile, to the fore, after endless publicity funded by you and I and brought to you by the state-sponsored broadcaster.
And as results filter through I’ve been astonished to find the BBC – oh them, anything but astonished then – taking local council results in parts of England and using them as the basis for how the entirety of these isles will return the next government to Westminster less than a year from now. There are other options in other parts you know, and those other options take serious proportions of the vote.
In the next few days the European results will come in, and that may be more of an indicator than council results in one region. Mind you we’ll have to wait until Monday to find out how UKIP have fared north of the Border. For there is no count on Sundays in the Western Isles, and the whole of secular Europe will have to wait for the Wee Free enclave. Oh well. Still I’ll be doing a bit of graft at the local count on Sunday evening, hopefully returning at an hour reasonable enough to allow me to enjoy a planned wee trip on Monday. Of which more later.