May 1986 - Local Elections, Party and Aftermath

Trafford Council, having been under *safe* Tory control for its entire history (like Altrincham and Sale councils before it), looked like it might be a Labour gain. The ward in which I lived was - and is - a key marginal. We had two seats being contested - one on the normal cyclical one third rule and one in a by-election caused by a Tory resignation

Confused - you will be...Well, I was. It's them pesky men, you see...

I am combining the two days, and I might as well say now that there is no way I can deny that I have written it all on the 9th May because the 8th was probably the most exciting day of my life – and that of plenty of other people.
It started rather unexcitedly – I had a lie in, and the news was, well, the most significant item was the fact Manny Shinwell has died; sad that, but he’s had a good innings – 101 years 7 months; and when you think about it, we could get a sympathy vote.

I did some Maths; then I went out to church, because it is in fact Ascension Day. Then I met John, and somebody I was later to learn was Dave. I asked what I could do, so I was told I would be picked up later. On the way home, I, together with the parents, went to vote. Paul was there collecting numbers, together with a Tory bid who I later learnt was Mary Codger (not her real name), one of the Tory candidates.

After lunch, John called round, together with Dave2. There were loads of people at the “Committee Room” – including Alex, and Fran. I had a good natter with Fran. At one stage I was sitting on Alex's knee, due to alack of chairs. People left, others arrived.

I went off to sit in Broadheath school to collect numbers. I spent about three quarters of an hour with a youngmiddle aged Tory, an ex-pupil of Loreto. She was bearable, although we agreed not to discuss politics. Having said that, I commented on how bright all the pictures were on the wall; she pointed out that it covered the cracks. I nearly pointed out why the walls had cracks; but we weren’t discussing politics.

At half past four she was relieved by a twelve year old Alty Grammar lad. He was delivered by Mike B'Stard (Not his real name). Nasty piece of work that man: he glared at me, no civility. And there’s splits in the Tory ranks. B'stard is supposed to dislike Codger, feeling she’s too old; she’s supposed to dislike him, feeling he’s too young. Helen was sitting in a polling station with a Tory who was boasting to be a personal friend of Mrs Codger’s. Then B'stard arrived to rally the troops; and this person a TORY PARTY WORKER, didn’t know who he was.(In subsequent years I have found it not unusual for Tory party workers not to know their candidate)

After tea I went to Paul and Linda’s house on Axxxx. We had a pretty depressing set of figures. Judging by the canvass returns compared with those who had turned out. A case of 2,000+ against to less than 1000, so it was great depression all round; at the Axxxx committee room, at the Mxxx Lane one (Jane’s) and a non-attender’s house at Pxxxxx Street.

While waiting for the next set of figures to arrive, I played with Joseph’s garage and car – and with Joseph, while Linda got Keira into bed.

I did some knocking up with Gordon. I dislike him more and more all the time. He is just about the most depressing person that I know, but he keeps offering lifts to me. The ward in question was weirdly shaped, a bit like the three-legged Isle of Man symbol, each leg being long and thin, and no direct public transport to connect the legs) I think in the future I shall do my damnedest to avoid him. I also went with him to the count, but at least Sean (John’s dad) was with us. Sean’s as Irish as they come – John was born in Ireland, got as far as Infant school there.

The count was really exciting, probably the most exciting evening in my life. We really out numbered the other parties, we were out in force, we were there to make our presence felt, and, I will tell you, it was more than worth it. There were two tables for Broadheath Ward, each with five counters (who normally work in banks), and we had three scrutineers to a table, while the Tories and Alliance had one each.

The results began to come in slowly: the first few were predictable holds for us, in wards like Park and Sale Moor; then the good news started coming - like St Martin's ward. Ours wasn't looking too good; the Alliance were well defeated but the Tories, judging by the bundles of hundred votes looked to have it. There were causes for celebration though: Steve won Altrincham (fairly predictable after John W won the byelection in March), we gained both Longford seats being fought, Urmston (fairly predictable after the byelection in March), Davyhulme West - a pretty major upset. A really great success in relative terms was that in Hale; Hale, the least winnable of all seats: we got a 15% swing - took the votes to 263. That repeated all over the country would sweep us to power.

But it was bad news on the Broadheath front; the Tories had taken both seats, with John losing by 37 votes. It was gloom and despondency all round; then suddenly we were getting a re-count. We were very despondent. No way, we thought. But dutifully, I returned to my place. This is daft, I thought, nobody’s being strict on how many scrutineers there are, so I signalled to John G to come over, because I was in the position of watching two piles.

Then, suddenly, we discovered it. There had been nothing to show any hope in our pile - it tallied there between 99 and 101 in each pile of 100. Then, suddenly, in the Tory pile. They flicked through the pile - and I pounced. Within a pile of 25 supposed Tories were seven of ours. I really could not believe it - that was narrowing it by fourteen. I glanced up: Jane B was looking really gloomy, so I stuck my thumbs in the air, and held seven fingers up. Her face lightened a little. In the next Tory bundle were eight of ours and five of the Alliance. John G had also pounced on a set. We really could not believe it, we were sweating with a mixture of horror and hope. We spread this around while the counting was done; meanwhile, every other seat was in save Flixton - we were telling this SDP man (he might have been Liberal, I don't know) that we'll let them have that - better than the Tories anyway. He was most grateful - but the news was better for us: yeah we won (by the way, we also won Stretford). Unbelievable - surely Broadheath can't be the let down.

Rumour spread: there was to be another count, rumour had it that the returning officer was puzzled by a definite turn around - this count was frozen nerves. We had at least one person watching each counter, sometimes two; the Tories had four people (including the candidates) watching ten counters. People were tired; there was a bundle of Tories that the counter counted as fifty; I saw it as 42, snapped at him, and he recounted - one pile was seventeen, which made it forty two. He apologised, I apologised for snapping, and we were friends. During the "Odds and Sods" count Mike B'stard was leaning over me. He smelt; he kept brushing against me, and he scratched me. Obnoxious yob.

The worst bit was the waiting. Cllr Sean was going round jubilantly saying okay we haven't got the thirty two necessary for the overall majority, but with two more (Broadheath) to come it was Labour 29, Tory 23, Liberal 9.

After the third count, while Anne was busy inviting our SDP friend to our party - nice bloke actually. Rumour spread it around that John had won.

We were getting ready to congratulate John, and it was official. John 1387, Mike B'stard 1334, Mary Codger 1308, Jim 1300. So close. We got on aggregate 45 more votes than the Tories. Labour 30, Tory 24, Liberal 9. We were going crazy – everybody was wanting to congratulate John. I flung my arms around him and kissed him – I was over chuffed.

The Tories raised a half hearted cheer for Ghastly Babyface B'stard. We were going mad – oh, fifty of us surely. The twelve to fifteen of us young rowdies (of which I was the youngest -and rowdiest) started a spontaneous chorus of ‘The Red Flag,’ followed by ‘Here We Go, Here We Go, Here We Go’ and ‘Maggie Maggie Maggie Out Out Out.’ The Tories were annoyed at ‘Communists’ taking over.

“Rates up, we’ll abolish your grammar schools!” called Alex.
“Old bag,” said Elsie to Mary Codger. It’s the best moment of her life – even better than the 6th March (when ALtrincham ward elected its first ever Labour Councillor)

I wished now that I had gone to the Labour Club now – I was just trying to avoid Alex’s amorous advances. Instead I travelled home with Gordon and Ray. Everyone else is celebrating, going wild; they’re discussing the technicalities. I was so pissed off – why can’t they stop philosophising.

I couldn’t sleep when I got home. I was so wound up, I just pranced around the sitting room. I don’t think I got to sleep until at least half past three, and I was awake soon after half past seven, and turned on the TV. I couldn’t believe it: Jack Cunningham gloating, David Steel beaming, Neil Kinnock slightly sozzled.

Can you believe it? The Tories smashed, only Solihull out of all (non-London) Metropolitan boroughs is still Tory – even snobby Trafford and Sefton are hung; London Boroughs are crumbling – Brent, Ealing, Hammersmith and Fulham are with us.

Why was David Steel beaming? Well, in West Derbyshire, the Liberal candidate finished a mere 100 votes behind the Tories while in Ryedale Elizabeth Shields has become the first woman Liberal MP since Lady Megan Lloyd George. The Liberals have also done reasonably well in the local elections particularly in the south. There are now two Green councillors in the West of England – Bristol and Stroud.

Life had to go on, and I had to go into school, but I didn’t (purposely) get into school in time for History. (I think I had permission to skive because I was going to the count)

Mrs Pe was in a bad mood in Government, but I couldn’t give two fucks because I was celebrating the local elections and Finola the byelections. At one point I said, “You’re annoyed because the Tories have lost Trafford council,” and she told me to stand outside the classroom. Aged eighteen. In Upper Sixth. The day after I voted for the first time.

In the afternoon I attempted a Pure Maths paper, and did abysmally.

Maggie’s as peeved as Mrs Pe. She’s pointed out that there are two new MPs: one Tory, one Liberal, and she added with spite heavy in her voice “No Labour.” No, Nick Raynsford got in in Fulham a month ago; furthermore, there are lot more Labour councillors today than there was yesterday. Neil was celebrating with a pint, David Steel can’t stop smiling, and David Owen looks as smug as that B'stard bloke.

I am listening to Andy Crane; I am certainly not watching the Scouse Gits Cup Final. Liverpool won 3-1.

I did some more work (after listening to Week Ending), and I might as well say now that the rest of this diary is written on the Sunday following the best party I've ever been to – wow, and what a party.

You know when you’re going somewhere, and you have these doubts that you’ve got it wrong; that you think perhaps you’ve misheard, that although you know Jane said weeks ago it had transferred from Sunday to Saturday, that Anne had been explaining the times on Thursday, that people like John G had said “See you Saturday”, I had a few doubts – I was all dressed up in my blue dress and yellow jacket, but as I walked down Cxxxxx Avenue I could smell the barbecue, I could hear the children playing, so I walked up to the front door which was opened by Councillor John, looking very nice, I must say, very casual in jeans and a blue denim type shirt with the top three buttons undone, and I also think he was slightly drunk – not terribly so.

When I arrived a number of people were already there (including those with children who were doing the early shift). People arrived throughout the evening. (I think I listed all the attendees);

When Alex arrived, I was standing just outside with John G, and Alex emerged from the kitchen, and said,

“Who’s this incredibly attractive young woman I see in front of me?”

“What’s all this?” asked John.

“A secret liason,” said Alex lustfully.

“Oh really!” exclaimed John. Alex moved on to greet Elsie, and I explained that I didn’t know anything about it.

From time to time Alex and I met; but I also spent my time with many other people, however, everytime Alex saw me, he kept saying, “Who’s this incredibly attractive young woman!” and I was getting slightly inebriated, and when we were in the kitchen he kissed me – just a little lingeringly on the lips. My knees turned to jelly, and I then I noticed Councillor John’s eyes nearly pop out of his head.

As I say, I spent a fair time with other people; Betty, bless her soul totally sozzled, was telling me what a wonderful son David is, how David is her life, how David is so handsome. Betty thinks the world of David. Then I was chatting to David; he seems a great fella actually, and he obviously thinks the world of Betty. He also thinks very highly of Jim, who’s been more than a father to him (David is Jim’s step son).

Then Elsie was handing out copies, and Alex was leading us in a sing song of the Internationale and The Red Flag, which was a major mistake, because a lot of us spent the rest of the evening singing; Guy especially kept breaking into the chorus of The Red Flag – yet he kept using the words.

I was standing in the kitchen, chatting with Wendy, and John approached me from behind, and ran his finger affectionately down my back. I practically freaked out, I think if I hadn’t been speaking to his wife at the time I would have probably thrown myself all over him.

Jim’s changing his name to Seamus Aardvark in order to capitalise on the Irish vote and on an advantageous alphabetical position. Elsie has threatened Nick the Green, who apparently is a very nice chap, that if he takes any more of our votes, she’s going to plant him in the ground with his trees.

I kept meeting up with Alex, and we kept melting into each other’s arms, he said he’s been wanting to kiss me for some time now, and I’m rapidly falling for him, and we’ve arranged to meet on Thursday.

I got a lift home, arriving home at about quarter past two. Who’s the stupid fool who set the burglar alarm wrongly, set it off and woke the whole neighbourhood.

Oh my god I am in a bad way! I am undergoing a bad attack of lust. Everytime I think of Alex I come over all weak with a bad – oh god I’m not sure – lustful feeling. And my feelings about our Councillor are not totally straightforward. I saw him at Church this morning. I am sure he was going to ask what’s going on between Alex and me, but, bless his soul, realised that the question would not be wise in front of the parents. Mother gave him a long lecture about social services. Everytime I think of the way he ran his fingers down my back…ooh! ooh!

Four hours sleep on Friday morning, four hours sleep this morning. I went to bed fairly early.

Today as you can imagine I was fair brimming over, so was Charlie. She spent the weekend with Steve Janssen – in the Britannia no less and her mate Maria spent the weekend with Mick Karn. Janet’s reaction was “Who has she slept with this weekend?” According to Charlie, Janet did it with a lad called Carlos on a Spanish beach at the age of fourteen.

We had a three hour Stats exam. I shall have to have done better than the 47 I got in the Pure.

I have also been thinking – I’m sure yesterday that John was going to warn me off Alex; it’s the way he said “A good time was had by all,” very loaded. Hmm, two years later, loads of people decided to warn me off Alex - by then I could look after myself...

I’m calming down a little bit, but not overmuch – I’m still on cloud number nine, but I actually did some work during a free lesson today which is quite good, save for the fact that I had five free lessons today. I think I shall have next Tuesday off; I might get some work done – doubt it, though. I dunno.

Charlie got a letter today from Steve Janssen - this has finally convinced Janet that this actually is taking place. David Sylvian has joined a steel band, playing the tenor can. So what, Charlie might be going out with an international pop star, but she’s not going out with a former Parliamentary candidate.

I was walking over the bridge over the canal when I heard a voice calling. In the car were Elsie and Stan. While we conversed, the whole of Broadheath was brought to a standstill.

I made a momentous decision today: I was supposed to be meeting Alex outside the Compleat Kitchen, but I decided it’s just not on – if he’s living with someone I am not prepared to do anything to disturb that. If their relationship is crumbling, I’m not prepared to help it along; if it’s not crumbling, then he just wants me for a bit on the side , which I’m not prepared to be: and my friends support me in this – they don’t think that I’m a rotter standing him up. I don’t regret it (I’m writing this four hours later) – I just don’t fancy the idea of going with somebody else’s guy, nor do I want to get tied down, nor do I see the point of going with an older bloke if I don’t fancy getting tied down. There!

In the evening I went out to Jane’s house for the May branch meeting. I drove there – because Daddy is now allowed to drive, so he can get the car out of the drive, and he was able to drive home. (He was not allowed to drive for a time after his heart bypass)

I feared it would be a real anti-climax after the election campaign, but actually it was fairly lively. Jane filled us up with sherry, to celebrate, she said, although the reason for celebration was unavoidably absent at a Labour Group meeting.

Apart from the usual routine of business we debated two resolutions from Brooklands ward; one to set up a police monitoring committee (which we agreed to in principle, but said wait and see how Manchester’s gets on. And to recognise the fact that we have higher priorities as yet); to condemn the NEC for not taking notice of Conference decision to undertake a campaign promoting a non-nuclear defence policy (we agreed to this, but on the insistence of Ray, we did not condemn the NEC, for they cannot be expected to implement every conference resolution but as Paul pointed out, they have a constitutional duty to carry out the demands of conference). We also debated and passed unanimously a resolution by Gordon to suspend production of nuclear generated energy; to shut down Sellafield & take provision to provide alternative employment for all those at Sellafield; and we also passed an amendment by Jane to phase out all nuclear power stations as soon as feasible. (This was, of course, in the aftermath of Chernobyl)

I received considerable support for my suggestion that we undertake a policy of taking less time for business and regularly having guest speakers on specific topics, such as Hale and Bowdon do. (See, moderniser me, way back in the Eighties...)I knew I would get support for this from Jane and Wendy, and was pleased to see that the others agreed in principle, with the likes of Paul and Andrew being particularly enthusiastic.

The meeting was very comradely, too- Paul was trying to convince me that I had made a total fool of myself on Saturday – then I remembered that I had barely begun drinking when he left. Andrew was asking me whether I knew the alternative words of the Red Flag*. He said if I could remember them when I sobered up could I tell him; or could I ask Alex what they are. Huh!

Out of our group, only Angela, Frog, Janet, Anita and I were in; and Janet and Anita spent all available time in the library, and Fiona’s a pain when unrestrained by the streetcred crowd.

I didn’t go to European History today. Mr S said he was missing the likes of Charlie, Sandi and me who weren’t there – he was getting all sentimental because we have no more Euro history.

Maggie was speaking at the Scottish Tory conference, explaining how the Tory party really care; meanwhile Neil was speaking at the Welsh Labour conference saying that Maggie used to say that there’s no alternative because she was stubborn; she says it now because she’s stuck. It beats me that Norman Tebbitt can carry on saying that the only thing wrong with Tory policy is presentation.

*The working class
Can kiss my ass
I've got the boss's
Job at last