8am, Beacon Hill Memorial Hall
Tony Abbott’s safe seat.
I peer up the already very long line, away from the cupcakes and donuts. Two elderly women are edging a way arm in arm along it; between it and the line of parked cars. One of them’s using the sides of the cars to hold them both up. The other one looks like she’s using her strength to ask if they can push in the line. I don’t like the way the gaps in the line are tightening between us.
By the time I am just past the cupcakes and donuts, and approaching the sausage sandwiches, I’ve opened a space up in front of me for them, but it would seem they’re too demoralised now. I tried to look friendly, but neither of them would look at me.
I decide there and then where my votes will go and think
fat lot of good it will do.
When I am done, I am out of here.