Local elections ... will you vote?

It's not long till the local elections. Yawn. I can only speak for myself, but I find it hard to be interested in who will sit in the town hall and spend hours discussing the whys and wherefores of the public toilets in the supermarket car park. Just fix the wretched things and move on.

But ... would I do it? No. I couldn't face the hours wrangling over toilets, or parking, or whether the shed on Ms B's allotment breaks planning regulations. But just because I'd rather chew my arm off than get embroiled in all this doesn't mean that it isn't important. After all, I pay my Council Tax and these people have to make decisions about how it is spent. They have to decide whether the potholes in the road the outside the school are more important than toilets. Whether to cut a few buses to small villages all week or all buses on Sundays. Whether a meagre charity grant should go to the children's playground or a Christmas lunch for the elderly.

So I shall vote. Which means, under the new system, it's up to me to make sure I'm registered.

After all:

(In case it's not clear, it reads: DID YOU KNOW: BAD LEADERS ADE VOTED INTO POWER BY PEOPLE WHO DON'T VOTE)

I saw this on a rock by the roadside in Malawi - where there are no newspapers outside the major towns, and very few people have television. Which means that the only way to disseminate information in rural areas is word of mouth, notices on trees - or paintings on rocks, like this.

But surely it's a message that must resonate across the world. For if we don't vote, then we silence our own voices. And we risk being governed by tossers. Those people on the council, spending hours on the toilets (so to speak) - they are, finally, answerable to me and to you and to all of those who made sure we were registered and made it to the polling stations. Let's make sure, at least, that we elect decent people.

I've just checked - I am registered. Are you?

Why you should vote.

It will be interesting to watch the stats for this post - my guess is I'll not get many visitors. Even the thought of an election sends many people to sleep.

Those who stay awake might say:

• what is point of the voting for people who take no notice of me after the election?
• politicians spend my money on duck houses and close school libraries.
• politicians tell lies.
• no one has taken the trouble to knock on my door so why should I put myself out for them?

I get all that. I can see that putting your cross on a piece of paper may feel like a waste of time and effort when you've many pressing things to do. And when nothing terrible happens if you stay at home and eat cake.

But if you've decided that elections are a waste of time - what would you replace them with? Government by some sort of cadre that co-opts new members when any participant pops his or her clogs? I've visited countries like that - and yes, people eat and sleep and laugh and go about their businesses just as you and I do. But they cannot stop on street corners and talk about the government, blaming those in power for everything from the price of bread to a war. There are places where they can be strung up by the short and curlies for that (metaphorically, you understand).

Or would you rather have a free-for-all that abandons any sort of government in the belief that we can sort things out for ourselves (are you going to collect the rubbish from your street, in the spirit of neighbourliness?)? 

Our democracy is hugely flawed - I know that. But every system is flawed; and every system has its pockets of corruption and politicians who tell lies.

Yet it's the system we've got - and only functions because enough people engage with it. Which, of course, means that governments - national, local, or European - can only represent a majority if enough people make the effort to vote. So do you want to be have your say, feeble though it may be - or join the unthinkers and let it all happen without you?

And for the women - our great-grandmothers chained themselves to railings so we could vote. Not so we could sit on our bottoms stirring our cappuccinos and complaining. Voting is a privilege. We should treasure it.

Local Election Day.

Yes, it's local election day. Are you yawning already? After all, it's hard to get excited about voting for councillors. We all know that they spend most of their time playing power-games, demanding double yellow lines outside their own houses while potholes get deeper where you live. That they'll fritter money on new computers, office chairs, fancy bollards on the cycle path near their own houses, leaving nothing left to pay for care homes or refuse collections.

At least - that is the fantasy. In practise some work hard, others don't. Some listen to their electors while others get carried away with the politics. Some beaver away behind the scenes and we never know how much they do while others spout from their soapboxes to make sure we all know how wonderful they are.

We know all that - and I'll still trot off to the polling station and place my cross.

Because how can complain if a councillor doesn't do his or her bit if I haven't done mine? I want to whinge about rural transport (we now have no buses at all on a Sunday), but if I can't be bothered to make a detour to the polling station once every few years then how can I expect a councillor to make an effort on my behalf - or complain when he or she fails to do anything?

But it goes deeper than that. Women chained themselves to railings just so I could vote. They were sidelined, ridiculed. They marched through London and were beaten by policemen. They went to prison, had tubes pushed down their throats so they could be force-fed. One died under the hooves of a horse. What if they'd given up? It they'd returned to their firesides, cowed, defeated?

I owe it to them. So I'm off to the polling station this morning.