Edinburgh's very own battling band of Brexiteers met for the final time today to hand out leaflets to anyone who wanted them.
We met a family from Wigan who had already voted - for Leave, naturally - and they reported that their town is chock full of Leave posters in almost every window. A couple from Buckingham who were up here with their dog took badges to wear, and had also voted before leaving home. I forgot to ask what the mut's opinion was, but I suspect he was just along for the extra walkies.
All in all it was a good day to talk to people, young and old, tourist and local, and encourage them to vote for independence on Thursday.
Needless to say, a couple of Federasts arrived and began to give it mouth, saying that the campaigns are suspended and we should have respect for Jo Cox.
A pity they left before the In crew arrived and set up their stall!
Theirs seemed to be a massive team until you realise that they had been dragooned out to pose for the Herald's photographer who was also in attendance. The guy in the flash git suit on the left of this photo seemed to be giving them orders, but most of the younger element wandered off as soon as the photo shoot was over, and most of the rest seemed a bit lost, I must say.
A very few were clearly old hands at the standing on street corners, trying to talk to people schtick, and came over to us to swap wars stories of old fights, that we could all proudly remember. This guy is as much an old hand as me, and it was great to have a photograph taken of us together:
A pity he held our leaflet upside down, but never mind, as it's the thought that counts. I should also thank him for holding me steady, as the arthritic pains in my legs were shooting up into my back and made today one of downright agony for me. I don't know his name, but if he reads this, then thanks mate.
I wandered off to grab a coffee and got talking to another old warhorse from the same Federast crew who likewise had sloped off because we get tired easily these days, at our age, with our lousy health.
This is as it should be amongst men who have made their bones in campaigns that long ago past into history, and who are now in the winter of their political lives.
The sanctimonious, self-righteous kiddies that the Federasts are using to give it mouth to our crews are an irritation, but probably no more than us calling them Federasts. We old hands know that there is nothing personal here, it's just politics.
And we have more tales to tell in a few days time when this is all over and the bevvying can begin.