He was fresh faced and looked eager and willing to please. His body language oozed confidence. But then you would hope it would,  with his background. But there was a friendliness. Easy to see and sense. The suit was sharp, but not too sharp, well fitting, nicely cut.    Probably dark blue with well polished and clean shoes. His tie sat well.  His parents would have been proud of him. His hair was still thick and his face had that cheery smile. There was clearly a lot of charm ready to be used. As he walked, he held his hand up to his face in front of his face. You all must have seen the gesture?

It was late evening and the hall was not yet quite full. It was warm and muggy but there was no sign of the shiny forehead. He was cool and seemingly confident. But there were lots of noises. Loud voices, chairs being scraped on the floor, metal boxes hitting tables, gaggles of conversation, fragments drifting across from Police radios.   Officials busy with their papers, as only officials can be. The hustle and bustle of the system as it went about its business. And the atmosphere in the air, defeat or victory, depending on which side you were. As the local, I knew about defeat after defeat. For us the place was steeped in it. History, relentless, the same old story. The mantra, always next time. The future, the next campaign. But this could be the night. The night of the great change. What was odd to me was that he was walking around by himself.

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