Spoketacular

My first interaction of the day was with a Labour canvasser doing the rounds ahead of local elections. I confirmed I’m a Labour voter but not registered at this address, and I’m sure he regretted asking more about where I am registered, which is somewhere where I’m also not resident. A least it was a good kick up the ass to ensure my proxy vote is still valid. The canvasser had a baby strapped to his chest, in a clear attempt to convince the electorate that the Labour Party is the party of family values. Labour have a strong showing in the City of Cambridge but not in the surrounding areas, which are Tory held, with the Lib Dems snapping at their heels. He talked about a local food hub and tried to big up Labour in this area but I think he’ll struggle to get the numbers up, as the media campaign to convince people that Labour will bankrupt the country and that the Tories care about them has been successful.

I met up with Amy in Histon, and we did a few hours of pootling between villages, eating chocolate on benches and trying out new cycle bridges and smooth bike paths. The new community of Northstowe plonked in the flat Cambridgeshire countryside merited a nosy around, and we tried to put our faces up only to the windows of properties not yet occupied.

It was one of those sunny outdoors spontaneous afternoons that aren’t very easy over the winter but that can happen every weekend between April and September. With this option, who needs to sit in a crowded pub garden at a defined time, pay £11.95 for a halloumi stick, and put on masks for each three-metre dash to the bogs?

It had been warmer than I expected. When I got back to the flat I laid on a rug and had that glorious sun-soaked feeling. Here’s to more days with that sensation in the coming months.