Sinister: Mayday

[P F]

The first day of May. I just went out to vote. Walking
to the pavement, the suburban stones, the municipal
world where Londoners come and go up and down the
hill. I was transported in a way to the 1990s, the
1980s, by the nature of a polling day, those days of
church halls and community centres, requisitioned
schools and black and white signs; spaces given over
to civic-minded people, usually black people in my
experience, who work to make it work, and probably
have their own hopes which properly go unvoiced. The
streets reminded me of the old posters of the GLC
days: black and white uniting, everyone dancing around
green gardens, Greenwich: A Nuclear Free Zone. And
part of the sadness of today is that, in the most
stupid, pointless and shameful way, it could represent
the final end (for there have been other ends) of that
era, in one personal sense. Not to say that its
political legacy is over: perhaps its political legacy
is around us now, and will not be stopped.

I went looking for the polling station, found it down
the backstreets, beside a church; a wheelchair
struggling up a ramp. The world of the polling station
reminds me of what Larkin found in 'Church Going':
temporary importance, borrowed seriousness; a world
pausing and behaving responsibly.

I actually paused while casting my votes, wondered
what to do, which form to mark first. I settled on the
Mayor, nervily savoured the two arms of the cross
beside Ken Livingstone's name; decided to add the
Green in second. (Please don't write in to tell me
this is a pointless gesture.) I'd heard the lovely
Sian Berry calling for Green votes on the peach form,
and this actually swayed me now: recognizing the form,
I decided to paint it Green. For the local member,
stick with Labour's Len Duvall, a chubby face I'd
recognize. Slide them all into the box at once and
walk away, into the city tilting on its axis,
teetering on its heels.

My other memory was of 2000, when Ken first stood - I
wrote a sinister post on the occasion of the first
anniversary of that victory, I think. May 2000, the
era of 'Legal Man' and the vast Sainsbury's at New
Cross Gate; of April Dreams England bewilderingly new,
hard to imagine now. That is how long Ken Livingstone
has been Mayor of London. I suppose they were good
years - well, they were better years than they would
have been had his rivals won in 2000 and 2004. I am
glad that he has been the first elected Mayor of
London - I once thought that four years would be
enough. Maybe eight years is enough, and I will have
to live without twelve. The alternative, though - I
will not now talk of the alternative.

But yes, 2000: and I thought of picnics, and
remembered the 1998 picnic, which thanks to Rachel and
Grainne's attention is being properly commemorated on
Saturday. I think of that 4.5.1998 picnic as one of
life's pivotal days. We have talked about many reasons
why, over the years. I think it is ten years tonight
since I first met Steady Mike, glancingly, at the end
of a Blue Soda - but better call it ten years since
the 4th May, when I first properly talked to him. Ten
years of sinister, last year, did not move me so much,
for I was not involved in sinister in 1997. Eight
years of Ken Livingstone, that means a lot. But ten
years of Steady Mike! Who could have dreamed that up?
The pleasure, the privilege is mine.





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