I once worked in a polling station..grin

It's been a funny week..with hot air everywhere you turn.

I for one am glad election night is over.

I trolled down to the polling station to vote on Thursday night; my card clutched in my mitts.

One of the local councillors was sweating and heaving anxiously by the entrance. Even if I WAS going to vote for him I would have changed my mind at that instant. He didn't look like he'd last a week without keeling over. So little point then.

Many years ago I worked in a polling station for a day, with a daft tart who took all the rules ridiculously seriously; removing a box of drawing pins from the table, as, being in a blue box, they were 'politically influential'.

The most extruciating moment of her reign happened when a lady with a white stick and guide dog came in, supported by a helper. The helper led the lady slowly and carefully to the table, to register, and was duly given her voting slip.

As they both headed towards the booth my colleague trilled "Wait! You can't go in there with her!"

The helper patiently turned around. "She's blind. I am here to help her."

"Well" Mrs OverZealous shuffled her papers importantly "I have to ask her some questions first. Come back here."

Relucantly, and with a meaningful look at a nearby voter, the helper led the lady, plus dog, plus white stick, back to the table.

"Right!" said Mrs OverZealous, peering at the voter. "Question 1. Are you blind?"

I took a look at the voter, in her dark glasses, my gaze travelling down to her stick,and her guide dog waiting patiently by her side, and turned to my companion.

"Are you?" I asked.