Wednesday 4 May
I wake to hear John Humphries talking about the 'Tony and Cherie' interview in the Mirror and allusions to Blair's physical and sexual prowess. I cannot stomach what I hear. I cannot believe it. I cannot equate that with the unburied body of Anthony Wakefield. Dignity is not a concept associated with Blair, but this is sheer blatant ruthless patronising manipulative tack.
Make my last journey over the watershed and down the valley of the Tees, now speckled white with wild blossom and late lambs. Then up over Stainmoor, through the Aucklands and in by the back door of Newton Aycliffe. Newton Aycliffe is not a place designed to be reached from the west - north and south yes, east if you really have to, but west not at all.
It's a beautiful spring eve of poll morning. My anxiety and anticipation are suspended. We know what will happen, just not by how much.
I think back to the last, forgotten, general election which was not in May but in June, delayed a month by another national crisis, foot and mouth. That crisis was soon relegated to the foothills of political history by September 11 and it seems quaint now that a general election could have been affected by an animal disease. But in fact it was a political crisis, with some parallels to this one - a ruthless and later discredited government policy driven by undisclosed factors, camouflaged with lies and fronted by tanned smoothies. And utterly, horribly, bloodily, unnecessarily wrong. As we now know.
The press desk is relatively quiet - many people wanting to speak to Reg tomorrow night but aware it's impossible to make arrangements. Several late-coming journos out on the streets with Reg and Martin.
We receive a letter from the Council saying they have been instructed by the police that all pass-holders to the count need a form of photographic ID as well as their police-checked pass. Panic - quite a few haven't got passports or photo driving licences with them. I point out cynically that this would not be a problem if we had ID cards. Agent Bob rings up and eventually it's sorted - if they are vouched for at the start by someone else they will be let in.
Yesterday Sylvia had spotted that large numbers of electoral addresses had not been sent out via the Post Office. A highly focussed piece of operating by Agent Bob means they get delivered today.
Telephone canvassing returns very positive results - but up to 50pc can't say/won't say, so no way of drawing conclusions.
Say goodbye to Martin Bell; I've enjoyed working with him enormously, and if he ever wants a job I'll give him a very good reference....
Spend the night in a hotel by the silent Tees.
- ©Reg Keys, 2005 -
