It was a good plan to vote on the first day some voting places were open. It was less busy and we were able to get a mobility park at the door. The polling station we chose was not in our electorate so the official had to hunt out the relevant electoral roll. Otherwise, it was easy – except Mum had forgotten her reading glasses. I was allowed to fill in her voting paper for her which I did carefully, explaining it to her as I went. It was very trusting of the officials; I’m pretty sure I look law-abiding!
I wonder how near-sighted people manage with the voting forms. The lists of parties and candidates are quite close together and small-ish. A magnifying glass would be useful. And what about all the people in rest homes. Do they have to rely on family to take them out to vote?
It was fitting that the polling station we went to is on the same street as Kate Sheppard’s house. After all the effort she and many others put into getting us the vote finally, in 1893 (after a previous unsuccessful petition) it seems important to make sure we do vote. I can imagine her saying, “What do you mean you can’t be bothered to vote? Really? After all we’ve been through? Give me strength!” It wasn’t as easy as today’s digital petitions, that’s for sure. It was a door to door, neighbourhood to neighbourhood, rural district to rural district, involving lots of volunteers. Then the petition was manually pasted together (you can see the table where this was done in Kate Sheppard’s house), rolled up, transported to Parliament, wheeled into the House in a wheelbarrow, and unrolled along the floor. Even then the vote was a close thing. This election is something of a nail-biter too.
