... so far, lunchtime, all I have to report is queues. Queues and queues. It took me 40 mins to get from the entrance of the MJC, register, put my list in the little envelope, shuffle the length of the hall and put it on the box. Then my name and number was called, recognised on a Big List, stamped and my signature called for in another book.
Everyone good natured and chatty though -
Philippe Rivano, head of a rival list, had had an excellent haircut and really looked the part in a dove grey suit and a lavender tie. Georges Reverte, head of another rival list, always scrubs up well - he looked very presidential. My boy Jean Torrent may well have brushed his hair this morning. He looked like normal.
The mornings' greetings in the market consisted mostly in 'Have you voted yet? How long did it take?'
(its showery and a bit windy with outbreaks of sun BTW)
Voting continues until 6.00pm. Then the counting starts. I have explained that I'm pathologically innumerate and should not be allowed to count anything but I may well help with the sorting.
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