Postal voting is not so social

The papers landed a few days ago. The next problem is to find them. Things do wander so. We have a number of correspondence corners where letters congregate in layers of importance.

The big plastic box under the sideboard is the place of last resort, whose contents inspire dread, especially when an important document, letter, driving licence or passport has disappeared into its mysterious, unforgiving innards.

The top of the big plastic box is a holding area, for letters that have yet to be swallowed into the bin of endless frustration, from where anything important can only be extracted with much heart-sapping effort, mumbled swearing and dark thoughts about the endless futility of life.

That last sentiment may seem a little extreme, but have you ever tried to find a vitally important, utterly boring piece of paper from the insurance company when all you can turn up are old photographs and assorted redundant letters?

Then there is the top of the sideboard, next to the old clock that hasn't worked for years.

And there it is. So, by way of a live newspaper experiment, I shall now open the letter.

A sweaty panic is coming over me. There are instructions here.

Two envelopes, A and B. Something to be signed and witnessed, just to prove I'm not an impostor; but would an impostor go to all this trouble?

There are bits of paper to tear apart, the ballot paper to go in one envelope, the witness statement in the other.

Take a deep breath. I am an intelligent person and I can cope. But why do forms and instructions send me into a panic?

Never mind, more deep breaths.

This experiment in postal voting is taking place in Yorkshire and Humberside, and three other regions. It has been greeted with scepticism and some alarm.

According to reports, most people should have their forms by now, although the postal mix-ups have allowed opposition spokesmen to arrive on the airwaves with their cheeks angrily puffed out to accommodate the word "disenfranchisement".

It is officially said that everyone will get a vote, which is important - even if so many people do not ordinarily bother. I vote in every election. It seems only polite after all the trouble that has gone into organising everything. Besides, democracy is too important to let drop like a friendship that has become too much bother.

But I can't help worrying that the postal vote is not the way forward. True, this modern method may encourage more people to vote, which would be an improvement.

Yet there is something almost sacred about going to cast your vote.

However many times I have voted, there is still that sense of occasion, a slight feeling of nerves even, as I go through this small but important procedure, making my cross and posting the ballot paper into the box.

Going out to vote reminds us that we are taking part in a wider social act. It should jog our memory, telling us that we belong to society. It is a communal moment when everyone goes to vote on the same day.

Nowadays we lead wrapped-up lives, doing what we want when we want to. Perhaps it makes sense to adapt voting to such self-driven patterns of behaviour. But it is still a worry.

Most unsettling of all is that postal voting does away with the secret ballot under which no one knows who you have voted for.

The postal vote has safeguards but it is no longer secret.

As for the choice, well, there are ten boxes to select. All the usual suspects, plus a few more.

It is to be hoped all sensible people will steer well clear of the British National Party, while also resisting the tin-pot allure of the UK Independence Party, best described as the BNP in blazers.

How anyone can take seriously a narrow-minded party that boasts the support of Robert Kilroy Silk and Joan Collins remains a mystery.

One's an oily disgraced TV presenter, the other's a sex-pot septuagenarian who doesn't even live in this country.

Both make me cross and neither will be getting my postal cross.

Updated: 10:09 Thursday, June 03, 2004