I hate change. Really hate it. I just upgraded the software on my mobile phone and nothing works. In addition, my phone bills come monthly and nothing could be more irritating; I liked it when they came every three months. I prefer reading an actual newspaper to reading one online, although I've learned to tolerate that. Also, I don't seem to be able to do the crossword on an iPad version – yet another reason to stand up for the paper version.

I totally understand wanting to hang on to old habits and old ways.

Let me tell you a little about my favourite 95-year-old, someone else who likes the old ways. Her father was a doctor and her husband was a lawyer (she's been a widow for nearly 30 years). She's always voted Liberal and we've had a few conversations about Tony Abbott and Joe Hockey, when he was still around. They weren't heated conversations because it would be too disrespectful to be angry at her about her support.

But she's changed lately. I'd say it's only been the past six months, but the difference is marked.

She recently called Abbott a troublemaker and I nearly choked on my dinner. For some reason, I didn't say "I told you so", even though that was my natural inclination. She calls our Prime Minister "poor Malcolm" and blames his beleaguered state on Abbott.

She's also a Catholic and has attended mass regularly over the course of her life.

So I decided not to discuss the postal survey with her. What would be the point of harassing her about this? My resolve lasted just a few days. At dinner last Friday, I tried to casually pose the question. This is hard because I'm not casual.

"How are you voting?"

No beating around the bush; no acknowledging what I expected her position to be.

"I voted yes."

Feathers. They knocked me over right there and then. At which point I smooched her deliciously soft cheek eleventy times.

What made her change her mind?

"It's only fair," she said.

That – and two men whose views she considered very important in the debate. The first was influential Jesuit priest Frank Brennan, who gave the Lionel Bowen lecture this year, where he revealed he would vote yes. As he pointed out, legalisation of same-sex marriage in Britain and New Zealand seemed to go ok.

That made sense. Someone with her Catholic values and with authority persuading her it was possible to reconcile the Catholic faith with a vote for marriage equality.

And the other? The tender story from David Kirby, whose brother Michael is a former High Court justice, where he revealed the deep support the elder Kirby had from his entire family for his relationship with partner Johan. She said it was sad Michael was forced to abandon his political ambitions because he was gay.

Since last Friday night, I've asked many of my friends whether they've had the nerve to ask people they thought were definite no voters. I've heard plenty of stories like mine, which works as a pleasant antidote to the Cassandras around me who say the "no" vote is winning ground.

Is the "no" vote gaining momentum?

Tiernan Brady, the former political director for the successful Yes Equality campaign in Ireland, is now in Australia as executive director of the local equality campaign. He says he saw precisely this kind of reporting before the vote in Ireland; the idea that the "no" vote had an edge.

He's been on the ground for 18 months campaigning and reassures me that the "yes" side has a big lead over a lagging "no" vote.

"The 'no' vote's 25 points behind, so that's a remarkable definition of having an edge," he says. "We aren't complacent but there is always a part where the media has to say it's tightening and that becomes the story. The margins were very similar in Ireland because the countries have very similar values."

Brady also says the equal-marriage conversation has been remarkably respectful – similar to the way it played out in Ireland, although he says the Irish didn't spend as much time focussing on the rogue elements. He probably doesn't get how obsessed Australians are with animal stories, with the odd, the unusual. We have a compulsive fascination with the outliers.

And he says what every international visitor says: it takes a long time to get from one place to the other so it's hard to achieve blanket coverage, which is why getting people to share their stories where they live is important.

Brady has campaigned twice now, so I assume he's dead keen to get married himself. He laughs. Marriage? "Oooh, that would be a big step."

But Brady's campaigning for human rights, not just for himself.

Jenna Price is a Fairfax Media columnist and an academic at the University of Technology Sydney.

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