A Man for All Seasons

I voted for the old blind man today.

I have actually surprised myself as at the start of the campaign that was not my intention. I was very tired of Labour. Lewisham, the borough where I live is the crossroad between up and coming and ghetto. Lewisham has always voted Labour and has almost nothing to show for it but a town centre that sprawls with low-value shops, an unkempt market selling produce "pound a bowl", loud uncouth black youth who do not deign to speak English, scream on the bus and say random things like "you get me blud", a shopping centre that flails with faded glory, a rash of chicken and kebab shops and a huge Primark.

I am first and foremost a thoroughbred Liberal Democrat. I believe in equality before taxation and that the very poorest should not pay tax because most poor people really need the money, even when some of them appear to spend the cash that stings my pockets on trainers at JJB Sports. I believe in empathy and amnesty for immigrants because they have survived much more than I ever can, even when I see the Somali asylum seeker supplied with a council house and I have to catch my arse to purchase a one bedroom semi. I believe that a stronger Europe is a stronger Britain, even when Polish workers undercut British workers because I know that this is what makes markets competitive. I believe in an environmentally friendly, green Britain even when I complain about having to sort my rubbish into neat piles. I believe in the greater good for the community even at the expense of my individual and personal discomfort. And A.O (After Obama for those not in the know), I was also hungry for change.

I won't recite the reasons stated in my earlier blog but Gordon did not seem very attractive. Cameron was out of the question. Nick certainly seemed like the best choice. However, in the last few weeks, contrarian that I am, I suffered a swing of sympathy away from Nick Clegg towards the man who weathered the storm with grace and dignity.

His diligent note taking on the platform almost made me weep. This was a bookworm like me who cared about the small points and who liked to make things add up. His genuine response to Bigotgate told me that he was sincere. I would have said the same thing myself to anyone telling me that Eastern Europeans were flocking Britain. Pity Eastern Europeans can't vote. His plans were detailed and well thought out. He appeared statesman-like. He did not struggle. I saw Bigotgate being reported this morning in the Metro as the "image of the election" and I wondered if it were only me who thought that this was sad. You could sense Gordon's discomfort with large scale PR, lights and flash. This was not a ready-meal candidate. This was no red carpet bling bling Prime Minister. Sure, he was not extraordinary in look or image, but he was the best we had in terms of policy and experience. This was an honest man, with honest views. It was only when I saw that the media and swing polls reported his "performance" (yes, that's what they called it) as lack lustre, when I thought both Clegg and Cameron came out soft and underprepared, that I knew that this was an X-factor, tweeterific election and I knew that I could not fail to give Labour another chance. This country, this party, this man, needed my vote.

The Great British Public will speak tonight. And it is very likely (if we believe the polls) that we will wake up to a blue Britain tomorrow. Change will be coming to Britain. But will it be the right change? I will, however, stand confident in my belief that I voted for the right man. A man who weathered the financial storm and has righted Britain to its feet without the riots we see now in Athens. A man who jubilantly brought the Olympics to London. A man who weathered adversity and waited in the wings for his turn, his time. A decent father, husband, statesman. A man for all seasons.