The local elections convinced me that reversing Brexit is wrong

On Thursday morning I left the house earlier than usual. I rode round the corner, through the driving Mancunian rain to a church hall. The people inside looked glad to see me. One asked for my address and then handed me a piece of paper. He ushered me to the centre of the hall where there were four shabby booths. I made my way to the nearest and cast my vote.

Given the magnitude and impact of recent democratic exercises, the local elections might seem relatively inconsequential. But the act of voting remains significant, no matter the scale of the ballot. The experience is reminiscent of going to confession – the anonymity, the privacy, the heavy breathing. Voting has the feel of a sacred act.

Manchester City Council is a Labour stronghold. Seeing little possibility of this changing, I decided (along with many others it seems) to spoil my ballot in protest against the government’s handling of Brexit.