The trials and tribulations of election campaigns are legendary.
Usually it’s politicians’ gaffes and mad moments we remember.
Just think of Gordon Brown leaving the microphone on, John Prescott punching the man who egged him, or Boris Johnson finding himself stuck in the middle of a zip wire.
But there is a war chest of tales which seasoned political correspondents occasionally like to regale.
You know, like the time a former Courier political editor was chased down a Montrose street by a dog. Yes, it did catch him. And yes, it did bite him.
Although I reported on the independence referendum, with all its associated fun and madness, this is the first general election “proper” I’ve covered from a politics, not purely local news, angle.
And I’ve just notched my first round the fire (in the pub) story.
I write this blog from a broken-down car on a Kirkcaldy industrial estate. It hasn’t been the best of days so far.
I arrived in the office with an apparent email glitch having meant I missed the calling notice for Nicola Sturgeon coming to Fife.
Panicked and trying desperately to arrive on time, I drove from Dundee and just made it.
Except, after standing around for a hour, there was apparently no time for the print media to ask the FM any questions.
I was pretty annoyed, tweeted the fact and to the SNP leader’s immense credit am now looking forward to sorting out a time for an interview with her.
But the car won’t start. I’m waiting for a breakdown vehicle. I’m hungry. I’ve written today off.
And it’s just started to rain.