Poor Gordon. He and Sarah have just left for the big speech. They weren't on the best of terms when they arrived, but left my office, as usual, much happier.

What's in the bag, Gordon? I asked. "Och," he spluttered, rummaging around in a black plastic bag as Sarah and I flapped at a sudden swarm of moths. "Where's ma red tie? You've thrown it oot!" Sarah sighed. "Just wear the purple, for heaven's sake! That's the bag for the charity shop! What do you think, Dr Tanya?"

I point out that perhaps the speech is at least as important as the tie...but agree that purple is a good choice.

Gordon hands me his draft speech, scribbled in that toddler scrawl of his - so endearing. I strike it through and jot him a short note in thick marker pen. Education, NHS, affordable housing, safe communities, trust, constitutional reform, genuine debate, duty, compassion, poverty, families.

"Och, Dr Tanya, that's great. A new government, with new priorities. MY government. I cannae wait!" Sarah pointed Gordon at the door and discreetly kicked the bag of old ties and odd socks under my desk. "Get rid of them!" She hissed. I ask how the campaign for knee-high socks is going. "Not great" she says. "I'm working on it. See you soon".

Anytime!