You do the Hokey-Cokey and you turn around…
1
I took my daughter to Tumbletots this morning.
En route I swung by the polling station and carried in my little one.
We had to queue, which I’ve never had to do when voting before.
I took her through necessity – but it felt monumental as I queued holding her, for lots of reasons.
In or out, remain or leave – I’ve found the campaign period toxic.
I even struggled to sleep one night with the atmosphere created in the press on TV and most of all on social media. It was oppressive and brought out the worst on both sides.
Lies, propaganda
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2
and very little fact and yet this was a referendum to decide the political future of our country – effecting our everyday lives but most of all our children’s futures.
By referendum it means the people get to decide. So why the strong campaigning? Where was the fact on which to make an informed and wise decision right for you and right for your children?
Two children lost their mother, the MP Jo Cox, seemingly murdered because of her political beliefs. Unspeakably awful.
Hate and fear. Poisonous. That’s not democracy.
Yet, as a queued
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3
holding my daughter, ready to cast my vote, this really was democracy.
Years ago, as females my daughter and I wouldn’t have been able to play such an active part in democracy.
I felt grateful, thankful that I had the opportunity to play my part in making the decision about the future of our country.
I felt too that I could breathe a sigh of relief that the relentless and stifling campaigning was over and it was now down to me to play my part to shape my daughter’s future by choosing my preferred path for the future of the UK.
I hated the
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4
fighting and arguments between friends on Facebook each trying to persuade the other to vote the same way as them.
Personally, I find it offensive if someone asks me who I’m voting for or whether I’m in or out – because it’s an individual’s right to choose – and only the ballot paper need know.
As we queued though, I couldn’t help look at the three people in front of me – all over 50 – and wonder which box they’d mark with a cross.
I went with my gut. It felt right.
Wrong or right?
Who knows?
Tomorrow will we be in or out? This is
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5
a really weird Hokey-Cokey!
My daughter witnessed me put my cross in a box.
I hope for her sake that most people made the same choice.
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Kiki Green - 23 Jun 16
I took my daughter to Tumbletots this morning.
En route I swung by the polling station and carried in my little one.
We had to queue, which I’ve never had to do when voting before.
I took her through necessity – but it felt monumental as I queued holding her, for lots of reasons.
In or out, remain or leave – I’ve found the campaign period toxic.
I even struggled to sleep one night with the atmosphere created in the press on TV and most of all on social media. It was oppressive and brought out the worst on both sides.
Lies, propaganda and very little fact and yet this was a referendum to decide the political future of our country – effecting our everyday lives but most of all our children’s futures.
By referendum it means the people get to decide. So why the strong campaigning? Where was the fact on which to make an informed and wise decision right for you and right for your children?
Two children lost their mother, the MP Jo Cox, seemingly murdered because of her political beliefs. Unspeakably awful.
Hate and fear. Poisonous. That’s not democracy.
Yet, as a queued holding my daughter, ready to cast my vote, this really was democracy.
Years ago, as females my daughter and I wouldn’t have been able to play such an active part in democracy.
I felt grateful, thankful that I had the opportunity to play my part in making the decision about the future of our country.
I felt too that I could breathe a sigh of relief that the relentless and stifling campaigning was over and it was now down to me to play my part to shape my daughter’s future by choosing my preferred path for the future of the UK.
I hated the fighting and arguments between friends on Facebook each trying to persuade the other to vote the same way as them.
Personally, I find it offensive if someone asks me who I’m voting for or whether I’m in or out – because it’s an individual’s right to choose – and only the ballot paper need know.
As we queued though, I couldn’t help look at the three people in front of me – all over 50 – and wonder which box they’d mark with a cross.
I went with my gut. It felt right.
Wrong or right?
Who knows?
Tomorrow will we be in or out? This is a really weird Hokey-Cokey!
My daughter witnessed me put my cross in a box.
I hope for her sake that most people made the same choice.
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36 - mum of one post premature menopause thanks to a lovely donor! Currently a full
time mummy to my daughter - would love a sibling for her, formerly in TV, radio and comms. Future???
Loves chocolate a g&t and to laugh!
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