The Scots are not as keen to forgive as many Lib Dems would hope

http://www.theguardian.com/politics/2015/apr/22/scots-not-keen-forgive-lib-dems-hope-michael-moore

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The Eildon hills shimmer in the distance. Two crows perch on the top of the posts at Galashiels Rugby Club. One flies off. It’s one of the few signs of movement in this part of the Scottish Borders on a warm spring morning. You’d be hard pushed to know there was a general election campaign going on at all, let alone that this constituency of Berwickshire, Roxburgh and Selkirk was one of the tightest of the Scottish marginals.

The constituency has been in Liberal and Lib Dem hands for half a century – first with David Steel, and for the last 18 years with Michael Moore, but the opinion polls suggest it is a three-way fight between the Conservatives, the SNP and the Lib Dems, with just two percentage points separating the parties. “I’ve never taken this seat for granted,” Moore says. “I only won by 1,700 votes in 1997, and my highest ever victory was 5,500. No politician should ever imagine he or she has a job for life.”

Not that he’s going down without a fight. He may look tired – “I’ve been living off coffee and jam scones for the past four weeks” – but his sense of humour is still intact. “We’re off to visit Sykes, a local factory and distribution centre,” he says. “I’m hoping that the boss hasn’t told anyone I’m coming in advance, otherwise most of them will scarper. When I went to a local coathanger factory last week, I arrived to find dozens of workers scuttling away. I did catch up with them in the end, though.”

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Moore is one of those politicians whose main crime is to be too decent for his own good. He was sacked as Scottish secretary three years into the coalition for being too, well, Scottish. Too keen on allowing Scottish people to decide their own future. “They were looking for someone who would be a little more combative with the SNP,” he smiles. “I’ve always been a unionist, but you have to respect the democratic and constitutional process.”

This isn’t one of those highly structured co-ordinated political meet-and-greets designed to make the lunchtime news bulletin. There isn’t a camera or reporter – other than me – anywhere in sight, and Moore is willing to engage in conversation with anyone. “Are you fed up with the election yet?” is his usual opening gambit. No one ever disagrees. “Don’t worry, there’s only two weeks to go.” That last sentence is to cheer himself up as much as anyone else.

Some exchanges go better than others. “I don’t like what the Liberal Democrats have done in coalition,” says one man. Moore braces himself for the follow-up. “But I’m going to vote for you anyway because you sorted out my antisocial neighbours for me.” There are advantages to being a sitting MP who has worked hard on local issues. We also pass a group of workers making targets: Sykes is the world’s leading manufacturer in making practice targets for the military. There’s one that looks suspiciously like a younger Ann Widdecombe in a checked purple jacket holding a handgun. “I’m saying nothing,” says Moore, saying everything.

Every conversation, though, invariably comes back to the coalition. The Scots are not as keen to forgive as many Lib Dems would hope. In public Moore remains resolutely on message – “I don’t believe in cutting and running” – and tries to talk up his party’s achievements. But his heart doesn’t seem wholly in it: he knows the party made a huge mistake over university tuition fees and if he could turn back time, he would. But what’s done is done, and Moore is determined to make the best of it – though there’s a noticeable reluctance to bring the names of Nick Clegg and Danny Alexander into any conversation. If Moore is going to retain his seat, it will be on his own achievements.

We head off to a cul-de-sac to begin the thankless task of door-knocking and canvassing. “I try to have 50 conversations a day,” he says. “Over a six-week campaign, that might just make the difference.” The thought seems to cheer him up. Even so, it’s an uphill struggle. Most doors remain close, some are answered brusquely with, “Can’t you read? It says, ‘no cold callers,’” and just a few with a warm welcome and the promise of a vote. But everywhere there is the spectre of the SNP and the Tories, with both parties urging undecided voters to do anything but vote Lib Dem. Here in Galashiels, the middle ground can be an uncomfortable place.

“I voted for you last time, but not now,” says a chatty elderly man. “I’m voting SNP. And I’m from Yorkshire.” Someone’s message must be getting through. But whose is still anyone’s guess. Moore scratches his head and walks on. “So, Michael, what will you do if you aren’t re-elected?” I ask. “Will you go back to being an accountant?”

“I’m a very rusty accountant,” he says. “You can’t admit that,” I reply. “Otherwise you’ll have no clients.” “You’re right,” he admits. “I have fully kept up with all my accountancy qualifications.”

“And what about the House of Lords?” Moore laughs. “I think there are going to be many more former MPs higher up the pecking order for that!” Fingers crossed he stays in the Commons then.