Harbinger

This sight greeted me as I headed up to Carlisle this morning. 
I couldn’t wait to get home and walk along to the village hall to put a big fat cross on a piece of paper with a stubby pencil.

Not sure how long I’ll manage to hold out tonight but as ever, I wish P were here. It would bring back such memories for him, watching votes being counted, seeing one of the piles growing ever higher and asking one of the officers, ‘Who’s is that pile?’ … ‘Yours’, was the reply. A little reverse Portillo moment.