Because George Doyle’s candidacy for the Argyll and Bute seat was announced after two thirds of the For Argyll Political Challenge was over, we have not had the chance to hear from him until now and many know too little about him.

So we’re introducing his article on why he is standing as an Independent – in which  we have also given him a little more space – with some information about him and the life that brought him to Easdale.

George Doyle

A writer, Liverpudlian George Doyle was a lighthouse keeper for 8 years from 1966 – 1974, serving mainly on the South Bishop Light off the Welsh coast. The start of the process of automating Britain’s lights led him to leave – and his next job, in its ow way, showed the same disposition to a relatively solitary life and the wide open spaces.

He went straight on to work in the engine room of the RRS John Discoe, the British Antarctic Survey ship from September 1974 to 1978 when he applied for and got a job on an island in Loch Sween in Argyll, which was a holiday home for the family who then owned Drambuie.

While this job did not turn out to be quite what he’d expected, he stayed for over three years before spending seven or eight months working as a gardener on Little Cumbrae. From there he moved northwest into Argyll, again as a gardener, at An Cala in the village of Easdale, part of the former slate quarrying complex involving part of the mainland and the inshore islands here.

He describes being in Easdale in the same terms as a relationship – ‘it just clicked’, He can see no better place to be and is utterly content there, gardening and writing. He describes himself as poor but with absolutely no worries – no financial worries because he has all he needs, no neighbour worries and no work worries.

George Doyle on why he is standing as an Independent

I look on an election campaign as the job interview it essentially is – and I’ve never applied for a job I didn’t want.

If I’m not honest with my potential employers (the electorate), if I lie or prevaricate and am elected, this serves no one but myself.

This applies to all candidates.

I have given a true and honest CV. I have made no promises. Whoever people vote for, the method of election is of no consequence if their candidate has no equal voice in parliament.

It makes little difference to me who is First Minister – provided all elected MSPs are able to cast their vote for that person.

Political parties should be lobbyists and nothing more.

Governments pre-selected by parties are not democratic. To misquote Lincoln: ‘All of one party can be right some of the time. Some of one party can be right all of the time. But all of one party cannot be right all of the time’.

Every party and individual MSP has, at one time or another, some very good forward thinking policies. If we have party rule, mnost of these ideas will never see the light of day or will be so compromised as to be almost worthless.

That is to say we are promised the earth and end up with a well depleted bag of compost. (That’s the gardener in me coming out.)

Because I am a writer, I’m very concerned with the proposed closure of rural primary schools. I believe it will cost more financially (and socially, in the long term) to close any schools in rural areas.

When I’m working out my personal finances (not millions) I always have a starting figure of what’s in the kitty. Argyll and Bute Council, it seems, are a bit shy in saying how much there is at the start.

If they are in surplus, which several reliable sources say they are (a figure of £48 million has been mentioned twice in the media), then the cuts which they say are needed may perhaps be better understood. It’s no good saying “Cuts will be made’ if people are unaware whether this is a measure to recover a shortfall or to give us a larger surplus for a rainy day far into the future.

None of the candidates have mentioned the ongoing war in Afghanistan and the possible involvement of our troops in the Middle East. This is not just a Westminster problem. Many of those who have died have been from Scotland.

My reason for mentioning the war in Afghanistan is to get people to vote – and actually not necessarily for me.

When we’re sending young people – and very young people – out to die in someone else’s back yard in the name of democracy for all, each of us should take the half hour or so it needs to get to the Polling Station and vote for someone. We all know young people who are dying today to give others that right, so why should any of us think it’s OK not to bother to vote?

We all know people who’ve lost a partner, a parent or a child in this sort of conflict. I’ve listened to friends in Liverpool  try to talk after they’ve had the knock on the door. To persuade you to use your vote, even if it;s not for me, I’d like you to read this poem, written from the fragments that are all it was  possible to say when people I know got this sort of news.

Four poppies from Helmand

Megan, 37. Husband Tom, 39. 2 children. TA medical. Roadside bomb.

My dear kind man has gone to war.
‘Make sure the kids don’t fret too much.
‘I’ll be all right, it’s just one tour.’
Yet poppies grow in Helmand.

The kids were his whole life, he doted on them. He was sure he’d be hone. ‘No worries’, he said… but… sorry… I think they should all come home now.

****

Serena, 15. Brother Kieran, 22. Bomb disposal. IED casualty.

My best brud, Keery. Such a fool.
‘See you, Sizzler. Don’t touch my stuff.
‘This bomb disposal, hey, it;s cool.
‘Poppies explode in Helmand’.’

He was like my best real friend. He called me Sizzler. He said it like a Baltimore blood. You know… ‘Sizz-LA!’. I shouldn’t worry ’cause he was Super Scouse. ‘Indestruct-ABLE!’ He wasn’t, though… was he?

****

Sally, 50. Son David, 19. Infantry. Shot on patrol.

My big bold son has gone abroad.
‘Stop fussing, Mum. They won’t get me.
‘I can’t stay home. I get so bored.
‘All my mates are in Helmand.’

He was just drifting, really. Couldn’t settle. He and his mate, Robert, signed up together. He made loads of mates over there. Some of them come round now and then. His captain sent a lovely letter. Yeah, it’s hard but you just have to carry on, it’s what he would want, isn’t it?

****

Lynn, 39. Daughter Helen 21. Logistics. Landrover blown up.

My baby girl has gone to sign.
‘This bloody job is killing me.
‘Of course I won’t step on a mine.
‘I might not get to Helmand.’

Oh yeah, boy was she a wild child, but when she joined up – complete change. I was so proud. She got to be Corporal. Her boyfriend Max is out there now, he might get home when she… … She was so… so full of life.

The family Brit and all the rest
at Wootton Basset, standing proud
to welcome home and lay to rest.
Four poppies killed in Helmand.