Polling Day Parcel Post

“Come on!” Thoughtful Man called out to me as he struggled to attach collar and lead onto Poppy the dog. She wasn’t making it easy for him: tail wagging, tongue flapping and spinning in a circle with delight at the prospect of walkies. “You don’t half drag your feet!”

I was dragging my feet as we were off to vote, and I still hadn’t made up my mind who to vote for. None of the political parties were particularly appealing this time round, and the only independent candidate had turned out to be a a bit of a tosser when elected to local government. You wanna bet I was dragging my feet.

“Do I have to vote?” I said joining Thoughtful Man and the frisky pup at the front door.

“Yes. Women suffered and died to give you the vote.”

“Ah, there’s nothing like a bit of guilt from the past for motivation, is there?” I sighed as we set off, dragged along in Poppy’s wake.

*******

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“I wonder if you can tell me what’s special about this room?” the MP escort asked as he opened the door to a cupboard with a flourish.

We were standing in The Crypt, having already visited the Lords and stood behind the Despatch Box in the Commons, marveling at the smallness of the chambers on a trip to the Palace of Westminster that my Boss had arranged as a Christmas gift. MP escort, his latest intern and I squeezed in and stood there amongst the brooms, mops, buckets and cleaning products, piled inside.

“I’ll have to close the door and turn on the light,” he said with a wink.

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We stood in silence and read…

*******

Well, Dear Reader, I did my duty and voted

911 on polling day
CLICKY: Red Universe this way for the Song…

What I did in the voting booth, and who I did or didn’t vote for, is nobody’s business but my own…

*******

Thoughtful Man had just gone back to bed for a daytime snooze when Poppy started yapping loudly and pawing at the front door. The shadow on other side belonged to a friendly postie. He was holding out a brown cardboard box, addressed and sealed. I took it, thanked him and closed the door.

“Who’s that?” Thoughtful Man called gruffly from upstairs.

I squealed with delight. “Postman. We’ve got a care package from Poppy Sweet Pea!

“What’s in it?”

Poppy Parcel

“Cigarettes, sweeties and DVDs!”

*******

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*Hey! Save some sweets for me Clicky… /lights up Danish cigarette and drags… And give us a Song…*

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