Election Night

It's Election Night on Saturday, and I find myself at a loose end. 

Election Night is one of my favourite nights. Yes, I am an election geek - you can find me checking in the results of the British and American elections when they occur, but my favourite night of all is the night of the Australian Federal Election. 

It's like it's sport. 

On Election Night, I like to try and find a friend to watch the telly with. Somebody who's as much of an Election geek as I am. Somebody who also shares my somewhat noisy politics and who will yell along with me, while imbibing a gin and tonic and eating bad food. To me, this is stellar entertainment, but I realise that it's not everybody's cup of tea

Last time, three years ago, I went down to Brighton to join KiKi, one of my writing retreat mates. We had a great time eating cheese and sniggering at Tim Wilson, who was ousted from her electorate (May that continue). We had a great night. KiKi was a bit bemused by my strange political knowledge of the Australian political scene. 

The election before that I was round at a friend's place in Reservoir. The result wasn't what we wanted. But we did the same thing. Beer. Pizza. Shouting at the telly. 

It's all a bit Don's Party. 

So, this election, I got in touch with KiKi again to see if she wanted to come over and watch the election. This was a few weeks ago. The other day she got in contact, and she has more pressing plans. And okay, I get it, but I was looking forward to spending Election Night with her, shouting and carping and carrying on. 

On Saturday afternoon, I've got a barbeque at Blarney and Barney's place. I can't stay there. As much as I love my best mate, I'm not going to watch the election coverage with her. She'd do my head in. And besides, it's a privilege to see my Election Night persona. Blarney doesn't need to see it (and their friend's, although very nice, are on the other side of the ditch to me politically - no need to stir the pot.)

I remember the night Kevin Rudd got in. The bloke I was seeing came over. I remember clearly what I was doing when John Howard lost his seat. There were more than one reason to be screaming. 

In fact, I have a bit of form getting lucky on election night. 

Regardless, that was then, and this is now and I'm in my 50's and should not be so crass and be thinking about such things. 

I just know that Mr Second date intimated that we might go for a third date, but I don't think showing him me in my Election Night persona is a healthy thing for anybody concerned. I mean, surely, he does not want to see me in my fully-fledged, noisy, horny, leftie madness shouting at the telly and waiting for Antony Greene to show his face. (I flick between broadcasts, but normally stick to the ABC - Channel Nine is threatening Peter Credlin - the only thing fun about her is watching her face as the Liberals go into freefall). 

Anybody want to come over and watch the election with me? I'll bring good snacks. I've got lots of gin. And it's a giggle. It would be more of a giggle if it wasn't so serious. 

Today's song: