Sent home by a friend last night for almost falling asleep as we discussed our day over a glass. In a distance event like an election, you have to pace yourself and I’ve been cutting the sleep short. But on as glorious a day as yesterday, who wouldn’t want to be out and about in East Lothian? The blossom is rampant, the buds are out and great columns of nodding daffodils stand guard everywhere.
Spent the morning at high street stalls where the reception was excellent, even if at North Berwick I seemed to be gleaning more votes for colleagues in Falkirk and Edinburgh than for myself. Dunbar was just as good and morale further boosted by a lonely Labour councillor trying to keep their red flag flying and getting little trade. This burst of summer in early April has everyone in good spirits. As the only party covering the county with councillors, the SNP are now so much part of the social fabric that people of all political stripes stop to chat about much besides politics.
Then, fortified by splendid lunch from Bert at the Castle Inn, it was off to chap in a few hundred letters. This is a joy of the campaign trail—saying hello to people you already know, bolstering the supporters, persuading the switherers and encouraging the first-time voters to do so, even if not for you. On such a glorious day, people are out mowing lawns or tinkering with bikes and much more disposed to chat than during dark winter chill. You enjoy spending more time with each than necessary. Still unused to the light nights, it’s evening before you know it.
As I apologised to my friend to yawn my way home, we agreed we’d take the next glass after the first week of May, when we can stay up late and sort out the wrongs of the world properly, as we usually do.
davidsberry 