DIARY DORIS HEFFER
lections are like a bad dose of flu, something to be got through and needing a period of convalescence at the end. And since we have always fought ours as if it were a marginal — we originally won it from the Tories in 1964 — we end up absolutely knackered. Although our majority is now over 14,000 we still never ever take our votes for granted. As the Wife of a candidate I have to see to it that the domestic side of things runs smoothly, so we have established a kind of routine. We wake up most days at about 7 a.m. Eric makes the morning tea, then I get up and make the breakfast while he gets ready. We have breakfast together and Eric — no male chauvinist he — washes up. I go upstairs, make the bed and get ready. We then set off for the day and don't return until 9 p.m. or after. Apart from occa- sionally putting some washing in the machine, we do no other domestic chores. It is at times like these that I am much comforted by Quentin Crisp's attitude to dusting. As everyone knows, he never dusts, so if he can do it we can, and I shall happily gaze at the dust over the next few weeks without my twitching to get out the duster. We are fortunate in that my mother lives on a council estate adjoining the constituency and each day she kindly pro- vides us with lunch and dinner, or as we say in Liverpool, dinner and tea. She also calms all the ruffled feathers and helps keep us on an even keel when things start to go slightly wrong, as they often do during a campaign.
My role in the campaign is far from being just the candidate's escort. I write up polling cards, help in leaflet distribution, go out on street meetings with the candi- date and canvass. Canvassing can be tiring, but it's never boring. I never reveal my identity so at least people won't feel they have to spare my feelings if they are hostile to Labour or the candidate. The other night, for instance, a woman came to the door and after I asked if we could count on her support, she said angrily, "Effer! I wouldn't vote for 'im if 'e was the last man on earth,' and slammed the door in my face. There was also a man on another occasion who more or less said the same thing, adding for good measure a four- letter word. But most people are friendly and even those who are not going to vote Labour remain polite about it.
There is one job I am not allowed to do and that's use the loud-speaker. I had a go at this during the last election. It seems I sound like the Queen and that wouldn't do at all in Walton. I am not bothered about this because I didn't really enjoy doing it anyway. I found I started off all right, reading out the slogans, Vote Labour, Vote for Eric Heifer Your Labour Candi- date, etc, but then after a while I started to lose my concentration and began to trans- pose words so that it sounded a sort of gobbledygook which made us giggle and we would have to turn the thing off. I suppose by now we should have made a tape of the message, but we've not yet got round to this — perhaps we are uncon- sciously resisting the packaged-candidate look.
Talking of which, I for one do not like the present presidential-style campaign being conducted by all the parties. At this rate we will never be able to have leaders who are not photogenic or who are, for instance, disabled, as was Roosevelt. And unfortunately, the result of this can only mean that people will become cynical and perhaps not bother to vote at all. Is it my imagination, or are we seeing more babies being kissed on television than in any other campaign? Kissing babies used to be scorned and was considered to be one of the hallmarks of an insincere politician. `He'll be kissing babies next', they used to say. I wish they'd stop it all and get back to discussing policies.
Cruising through County Road in one of our shopping areas the other day I was much cheered when I noticed the marvel- lous names of some of the hairdressers. There was Choplins, Hairlucinations, Spike Herkutz, Kut 'n' Kurl, and Heads of Her. I also noticed 'Fitt for Life Gymn and Sauna'.
During the election things like letter- boxes, gates, long or short paths and dogs take on an added importance. Normally these things only matter to postmen and
paper boys. They have my sympathy. I don't know why the postmen's union has not started a campaign to get all doors standardised so that the letter-boxes are all placed in the upper middle half of the door. Seriously though, one could do oneself an injury pushing things through letter-boxes. Some are nearly on the ground, some are too high, one has to jump up to reach them, and others, worst of all, have stiff springs so that the flap traps your fingers. There ought to be a law against these. And then there are the dogs. I love animals, but I have had a few frights over the years and now when I hear an angry growl from behind the door, or even a yap, I turn right round and miss out that house.
The party leaders have issued their manifestos and I am quite appalled at the Tories' determination to continue their counter-revolution. What with privatisa- tion of water and their controversial educa- tional policies, I am wondering have they gone too far, even for Tories? Can this be Mrs Thatcher's Waterloo?
Tony Benn came over from Chesterfield yesterday, Saturday, and brought with him a spirit of optimism which he conveyed both in his press conference and to the many constituents who came to listen to him in the shopping precincts. Most of the shoppers were delighted to see him and gave him a warm welcome. One lady came up to him and told him she remembered him from years ago when he used to do his shopping there — Tony suggested it was probably perhaps Tony Byrne she remem- bered — 'Oh no, it was Tony Benn, I have got a good memory,' she said. So Tony let her continue her myth-making. It's always good to have a friendly visitor from 'the outside' during an election. One gets a perspective of one's own campaign and the feeling of isolation is diminished.
As, write we have been out on the campaign trail for just over a week and there are almost three weeks still to go. Our first leaflet is being distributed, can- vassing is well under way, the election address will be out in the next day or so and the posters will soon be going up. We are going to have one day off tomorrow, Bank Holiday, and then I will take a deep breath, grit my teeth and soldier on to polling day. I wonder if other candidates' wives feel as I do?
PS. Those politicians who say they enjoy elections must surely be lying through their teeth!
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