Campaigning in Campbeltown

The sea wasn’t quite glass as we sailed over from Portavadie, there was just enough wind to justify raising the full panelled sail of my wee junk-rig, the Florence Louisa, at least till we neared the ferry slipway. I’m always relieved when we cross the route of the ferry and leave it behind us. I’d taken time to make pancakes to share with my mate and, as he talks just as much as I do, Belfast Coastguard was just starting the 11:20 inshore weather forecast when we’d motored out of harbour.

Juan at the helm with full sail and glassy sea

With Juan at the helm, I was busy with the fenders then the sail and, despite sailing very near to the north-easterly, made good progress (motor-sailing most of the way, admittedly) and reached Tarbert just before midday. We waved at Wilma in The Old Library where his painting Apex is being exhibited and packed up the Twingo, parked at the harbour, with snacks for our road trip south!

Gold, black & red acrylic painting of jaguar’s eye on stretched canvas

I’d cycled from Claonaig recently, so I knew the road along West Loch Tarbert at least as far as the ferry at Kennacraig, but once past Clachan we had all the beauty of the Sound of Jura, with Gigha and Islay—and after Glenacardoch Point we could see right over to Northern Ireland: Rathlin and the shores of Antrim.

From Kilmory I’d received the good advice to check the Council website for the Ward boundaries but the signal on Juan’s phone made loading slow so, comparing two other sites, it seemed that the northern boundary of South Kintyre runs roughly from Bellochantuay to Saddell, south of Carradale.

With no time today for beautiful Westport Beach, we continued along the A83 until catching sight of Island Davaar and Campbeltown. We’d decided not to go canvassing door-to-door (that always feels a little pushy and intrusive to me) but just go hand out my two-sided campaign cards and then, if people wanted to know more about Freedom Alliance, the leaflets too.

Campaign card front: name, party, ward & imprint.

Campaign card back: agenda & QR code.

I’m standing for:

• Safeguarding children’s innocence
• Respecting bodily sovereignty
• Supporting small businesses
• Protecting single sex space
• Guaranteeing privacy
• Economic recovery
• Community values
• Caring for nature

(If anyone has any questions about any of those, you can privately email the party via the website and also public comments are open on this blog.)

Our first port of call, fittingly for sailors, was at the RNLI shop on the Old Quay where we joked with George and I bought a lovely key ring for the spare key to my boat.

We must have spoken to around 50 people in the couple of hours we walked along the promenade, admiring the view of Campbeltown Loch and Southend, and through the streets, admiring the vintage architecture. Only 100th of the electorate—but we all know how efficiently news travels in rural communities!

Stylised sculpture of sailing boat on grey granite plinth overlooking Campbeltown Loch

I wanted to check out the ward’s eastern boundary so we jumped back in the Twingo and headed north, around the bay and up past Peninver (with spectacular views of Arran, the Clyde Coast and Ailsa Craig along the way) until we reached a farm selling plants at Saddell. And there—as well as buying a kind of clover with cute star flowers named “Hobbit”—I had an enlightening conversation with the farmer.

This polite gentleman from over the water took time out of his busy day to tell me about the dire situation of farming on Kintyre:

Fertiliser has shot up in price. The cattle feed that used to be £200 a kilo, now it’s £700. Farmers can’t break even. Up and down Kintyre it’s the same story.

I asked him if Brexit had caused this. He replied “Aye, and this war in Ukraine”.

Now, I’m no farmer (I could hardly call myself a crofter with 9 hens and an organic garden) and I may have misunderstood whether these figures apply to cattle used for beef or dairy, but the picture is clear: Kintyre farmers have their backs to the wall and the bureaucrats in Holyrood and Westminster aren’t doing anything to help them.

The farmer had to attend to a calf so we didn’t have time for a long discussion but I had his words in my mind driving back to Peninver. I’ll be honest and say that I’ve changed my mind over Brexit. I voted Remain but I look across the water and see the problems they’re having with demographically unbalanced immigration and crazy Government “net zero” nonsense putting farmers under pressure to kill their cows for burping!

As for Ukraine, if you Google my name you’ll see a nationwide smear campaign against me (coincidentally last time I ran for election, when several UK academics questioning that war got cancelled or sacked) and, though the reports in The Times and elsewhere were inaccurate, it makes no sense to me that the Scottish Government gave away £63 million pounds of taxpayer money to one East European country to bomb the citizens of another (when they’re not bombing their own, oddly) and instead of supporting hardworking farmers on the peninsula they’re tying up the subsidies with “enhanced conditionality”—in other words strings attached—and when you look at what gets repeated in these documents (hidden by the buzzwords “sustainability” and “just transition”) you guessed it, it’s neither food nor farmers it’s cow burps!

I make no secret of the fact that I’m vegan and yes there’s a growing number of young folk especially turning away from meat and dairy, but my main objection is to the cruelty of factory farming and I would rather see cows and sheep in fields than not. Apart from that, there is no compelling evidence that man-made CO2 emissions have anything at all to do with “climate change”. And as for that, my old mum’s comment on global warming suffices: “there’s not much warming!”

We both gained and lost with Brexit, a perfect storm of disaster capitalism (see Naomi Klein’s 2007 exposé of The Shock Doctrine) where crony contracts fall into the hands of the friends and family of politicians profiting from war and market madness following mishandled emergencies.

So I was pensive as we leafleted Peninver and glad to get into The Black Sheep pub with the cheery landlady and a happy crowd watching the rugby.

After some alcohol-free beer for me (I’m not teetotal but a responsible driver) Peroni for Juan and some tasty Tyrell’s crisps, we were off to leaflet Bellochantuay en route back to the Florence Louisa, now moored at Tarbert.

Wooden anchor-shaped key holder with padlock and keys on RNLI Campbeltown keyring

Promoted by Cath Evans of Freedom Alliance, 83 Ducie Street M1 2JQ

(Photos & videos copyright the author may be used—unconnected to commerce and without transformation—with a link to this blogpost)

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