The rain, it seems, is over for now. The birds are emerging again. I have begun to notice that Londres is being taken over by corvids: crows, rooks, jays and jackdaws seem to be the dominant flying beasts of the day. I think they smell something.
Perhaps a day of doom approaches on Thursday. Its coming fills the air with tension, and slight but painful hope. It is unusual to feel hope in the context of the ballot, for each one is rigged by processes beyond our control. But this time mistakes were made. People were allowed to speak, to put forward the candidate they wanted. It has never happened in my lifetime. When my enemies are down on their knees due to an error, I think that’s the perfect time to give them a kicking. Let’s not pretend they ever fought fair.
I’m amusing myself with the aggressive language. In fact what I’ve always wanted is a system that exhibits care for people, a way of living that doesn’t mean we destroy each other. Politics should be about supporting each other, making our lives better together. I know I can’t get all that at the ballot box, but I can get something, some small step towards it.
The danger of disappointment never goes away. The young and screwed may not bother to vote. The Vermin will probably win, or get enough support from others to continue, or if the Opposition does win their leader will be betrayed in every way it is possible to be betrayed. Some things will go right but many things will go wrong. The interpretation of it will be in the hands of other people.
If I expect all this, I suppose I dodge the risk of disappointment. The trick is to dig out the optimism within that, and that’s where it gets dangerous. The limited optimism spreads and infects other parts of you. You begin to imagine everything going right. You begin to dream of a better world.
Perhaps, then, disappointment is inevitable. So what? On then to another fight, another day. Let no-one say we didn’t try. May our failures be the stuff of legend.