THE ELECTORAL Commission have this week launched a range of television advertisements aimed at those people who haven’t yet registered to vote.

I’ve voted in every election possible, save for 2005, when I was a trainee reporter in Yorkshire covering the Doncaster count. I was registered to vote in Sunderland, so was unable to make the journey north in time to return for the polls closing at 10pm.

I’m a big believer in using your vote, even if your preference has no chance of winning.

In 2010, 16 million eligible voters did not take part in the General Election. That's 34.9 per cent of the electorate.

If 2010 was a landslide win for apathy, 2015 will be worse.

In my constituency, 51 per cent of the town turned out to vote. The seat was secured with 49 per cent of the vote.

Many people fail to vote because they don’t think they can make a change. As long as they think like that, they won’t.

I hope the campaign, therefore, is successful in its goal.

 

TALKING about that Doncaster count in 2005, it brought back some memories.

First things first, election counts are, by and large, dull events. Newspapers send reporters along to report the results, to interview the leading lights, file their copy, go home.

If you’re lucky, and your count is one of the early ones, you can be back home, feet up, mug of Horlick’s, in time to catch the end of the election coverage.

I was one of the unlucky ones. Our count was one of the last to announce - around 6am - and the hours before were among the most dull I have ever experienced.

We were holed up in the Doncaster Dome, a leisure facility on the edge of the town. There were a few bars dotted around the building and some function rooms, most of which had been booked out by the leading political parties to keep their candidates away from the hoi poloi, it seemed.

A lot of the hangers-on saw the election count as an opportunity to have a skinful. Had I not been on official duty, I’d have joined them for a beer or two.

Staying professional, I was fuelled by caffeine and the hope that covering the count may further my career somehow. It didn’t, by the way. Although I did meet Ed Miliband who seemed a jolly nice chap.

One of the Conservative election team staggered over to me at one point, blue rosette proudly hanging from his lapel. “Scuse me,” he slurred. “Can you tell me where our function room is?”

I pointed the way, and turned away chuckling as he strode into the room that was bedecked in red rosettes and balloons to loud jeers and catcalls.

It was the highlight of my short career in political journalism.

 

YESTERDAY’S solar eclipse took me back to the 1999 event which was much more of a special occasion.

They filmed a special EastEnders edition, newspapers whipped us all up into a sun-chasing frenzy while experts told us how to best experience the eclipse.

I found the words of one scientist fascinating, advising us that the optimal method of looking at the sun was to peer at it through a CD.

The theory is genuine - if you look through a CD, the surface is slightly transparent yet protects your eyes from the potentially blinding rays.

It’s a shame, then, that I misunderstood the expert’s advice and stared straight at the sun through the hole of the CD. I couldn’t see for the rest of the day.

I made sure I didn’t make the same mistake yesterday.