It’s that time of the year again. Rosettes of bright colour are popping up in hedgerows and gardens.

There’s a familiar call ringing out and a whiff of, how can I put it politely, manure in the air.

No, I am not talking about the signs of spring. There is something far less appealing emerging from the winter gloom: local elections!

The rosettes of colour come from the political posters, the familiar call isn’t cheerful bird song, but the plaintive cry of: ‘can I count on your vote?’

And the whiff of manure, well you can put your own interpretation on that!

You would be forgiven for not yet noticing that this ritual is creeping up on us once again, after all it only feels like five minutes ago that we had a General Election.

But the signs are all there: adverts on TV reminding voters to bring ID, leaflets are coming through the door and there’s been the odd sighting of a candidate, usually rarely seen at any other time.

Yes, like a migratory bird only appearing in spring every four years, the candidates are emerging from hibernation.

I have to say that in the nineteen years I have lived at my current address I can’t remember ever seeing a “lesser-spotted” candidate.

To be fair I live out in the sticks a bit and for most of the time I have lived here I have been out at work all day everyday, so I may have missed them.

But recently, on a sunny Saturday afternoon the peace and quiet was shattered as the doorbell rang. This in itself is a very unusual occurrence. Apart from the odd parcel delivery, very few people come to the door unexpectedly.

I was not best pleased as I went to find out who was disturbing my weekend, but couldn’t ignore it in case it was a neighbour who needed something.

As I approached the door my heart sank; I could see from the handful of coloured leaflets and the bright rosette that this was an election candidate on the loose and roaming in the wild. More importantly he was on my doorstep and he’d spotted me, there was no escape.

I opened the door and the patter immediately began: ‘Was I aware the elections for Cornwall Council were coming up?’ ‘How did I vote last time?’ ‘How would I like to see the council improved?’

Now, that last question had me stumped for a moment. I am usually not short of an opinion or two on how the council operates.

But you know what it’s like when you’re put on the spot. My brain took a moment to come up with some ideas, after all it was Saturday afternoon, my mind was not really focussed on the inner workings of Cornwall Council.

Sadly I didn’t really make the most of this rare opportunity to tell a prospective local councillor what I’d like to see improved. I am sorry to say the best I came up with was to register my extreme dislike of the ever-rising Council Tax.

Regular readers will know how much I hate the Council Tax. After the mortgage it is my biggest annual bill by far. Every year it goes up, but every year the services are cut back.

And unlike other bills where we have a degree of control, so if prices rise we can try to consume less or shop around for a better deal, we have no choice with the Council Tax. It’s ‘pay more, get less’, but you have to pay whether you like it or not.

Anyway, the beleaguered candidate on my doorstep rightly pointed out he couldn’t do anything about that. My one shot at telling a prospective councillor how to improve the council and I picked an issue he couldn’t influence!

He did however agree with me, but of course he did, he’s after my vote. We agreed that funding local councils should be based more on income rather than the random, arbitrary and out-dated value of our homes.

Besides, the system clearly doesn’t provide enough money, which is why Cornwall Council is trying to flog off what it can, cut our services and put up our Council Tax by above the rate of inflation.

As the hopeful candidate flew off from my doorstep looking for the next unsuspecting victim, I couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for him.

It must take a lot of courage and conviction to stand for election. You have to pound the streets in all weathers, have endless doors slammed in your face and have abuse hurled at you from people who disagree with whatever party you’re standing for.

And that is all before you get anywhere near the council chamber where the real abuse, anger and frustration begins.

I have always taken a professional interest in local elections. It was part of my job to know who the councillors were and to try to understand the implications of various policy decisions.

But I get the feeling many people are not really that engaged with it. Let’s face it all we’re really interested in when it comes to our local councils is: will our bins be emptied?

But decisions made by local councils can have a big impact on our lives, often more of an impact than decisions made hundreds of miles away in Westminster.

Which is why it is still important to take part in the democratic process. Democracy isn’t perfect and by its very nature not all of us will get the results we’d hoped for, but it’s all we’ve got and the alternatives are not too appealing either.

So, if a “lesser-spotted” candidate, flashing a colourful rosette lands on your doorstep this spring issuing a plaintive cry for your vote, make the most of the opportunity to tell them what you want from your council. Stay alert though in case there’s a whiff of “manure”.

Bye for now!