The first week: A long time in politics...

A week is a very long time in politics.

Especially when you extend it by only sleeping a few hours a night and working every hour you're awake.

A week is also a long time to be crapping yourself.

To be quite honest mentally (and at many times physically) that week I was feeling looser than XXXL slacks on an anorexic.

The first two days were blind panic. Phoning people I didn't know begging for help, photos, explanations, paper or help and not getting very far with any of it. At the end of my first day I worked for a few more hours and then went home. I had been planning on meeting a friend who had started a cushy city job on that same day in town for a drink but I texted him some incomprehensible gibberish about not having the ability to leave the office for anything but sleep.

The problems I was having were made all the more great by the facts that the people in the Parliamentary office were all on holiday. This was especially annoying as they had most of the contact details for people I was meant to be talking to about the calander shots. Another few issues were that Joan was on the PM's business in Cyprus, the guy meant to be training me (and two other new Organizsers) was busy trying to pull a General Election campaign out of his arse and Clare the Caseworker who also works in the Office couldn't help me because her and my illustrious predecessor hadn't got on to put it mildly and so she didn't know anything about my job.

Day 2 saw me get my first volunteer to come in and help out at the office, freeing me up to try and get a handle on my job, until 2 anyway when I had to leave for a Strategy meeting in Portcullis House, which I turned up to about half an hour late for (bastard Victoria line!) It then proceeded to go on until half 8...

On one side of the table the three new organizers; John at Harlow who had been in the job a month, Emily at Mitcham and Morden who had started the Friday before and me who had started yesterday. On the other side some at various time were former General Secretaries, National Campaign Co-ordinators and other vastly experienced people and they just mentally pummelled us with what we were to do over the next three weeks. I don't think I've ever felt so totally inadequate for five and a half hours before, mainly because I normally roll over and fall asleep about five minutes later, but also because I usually feel pretty good about what I'm expected to do.

But this was different.

Very SODDING different!

The fact that the Strategy meeting went on for about seventeen years also meant that I - very helpfully - missed meeting my landlady for the first time. Especially good as she was already half way there byu the time I got a message to her that I was not going to be there...

The next couple of days though - to the surprise of pretty much everybody - went well. Even when it was discovered that a mailing to every constituent in Enfield North about the local Hospital hadn't been sent to half a sodding Ward it didn't screw things up too badly.

By the end of Thursday I had 11 photo shots organized all over Enfield for Friday, had spoken to the Executive meeting and felt like to quote myself I had 'found the paddle and would soon be out of the creek!' And then Friday went well too... Joan was back the photographer was great and despite we all went all day without a meal we had some fun... It was almost as if I was getting the hang of this...

Saturday we went door knocking and then me and Joan were discussing the campaign. Tory conference had galvanised the opposition and they had hauled back most of our lead in the polls. Then Joan got a phone call, ten mintues later James phones me. And as simple as that it was all off!

So I went out for a pint.

A week over and I had survived, the next week started tomorrow.

And the fuck ups would be free-fucking-flowing!