My Day Five

Waking up in our house in Fife was today’s special treat, followed by a walk down Kirkcaldy High Street. We met voter after voter after voter – and all of them Labour. But am not getting carried away – this is home where Gordon is very much loved, and the most formal thing anyone ever calls him is GB. Good to see Pete Livingstone too – one of Gordon’s very oldest friends from school and someone who isn’t sure what’s more exciting – his best friend being up for re-election as Prime Minister, or his home football team being in the semi-final of the Scottish cup tomorrow.  He has decided to split the difference and do some door-knocking for Gordon in the morning and head to the match with the boys in the afternoon. Gordon is very disappointed not to be joining them, but I know come hell or high water he will get the instant result in London.

On to Lochgelly to knock on some doors. Gordon has a lovely conversation with a little girl and her Mum when he asks how old she is and she says "seven" and Gordon talks to her about all the best bits about being seven; her Mum interrupts “but she is only two!” and Gordon says “I’m not going to tell a girl she is not the age she wants to be! Seven it is”.

Gordon is far too polite to ever argue with anybody about their age – and it’s obvious that Fife’s pensioners have a special place in their hearts for him as a result. We walked into the Fife Pensioners Forum to massive applause and lots of ladies wanted to hug him even more than I do.  Everybody asks about the family – and I’m pleased to be able to reassure them we are back with the boys most evenings, despite the whirlwind campaign.

A nice flight back – including the pilot wishing Gordon all the best for May 6th over the tannoy! – and home to hug the kids, check some emails and see my article for the Sunday Mirror go up online