It's all over now ....

I feel as if I have been put through a washing machine on a long hot cycle, then wrung out by hand.

What a 24 hours we have had. I'm so exhausted from lack of sleep, and my spirits are swooping back and forth between the lowest low, when I analyse and examine every memory of the last week and a half, and then get wildly enthusiastic again thinking this opportunity will come again.

I got a bad feeling while standing at the polling station yesterday. Many Yes voters, but many more No supporters. With their grim faces and staring straight ahead to avoid me making eye contact with them.

It got worse during the afternoon and early evening, when while out knocking on doors, you could just feel that the mood had changed. Gone flat. At the count it was awful to see the pile of No votes get higher and higher, and of course that translated into victory for the No campaign.

Arriving home at 6.30am, I didn't go to bed until after 7am and had to rise at 10am to take Mum to the funeral of an old friend. Olive was a bit of a livewire before her stroke, and had many and varied interests. Therefore I shouldn't have been surprised to hear 'Caledonia' and'Flower of Scotland' playing as we took our seats.

Back in the kitchen again after the funeral, I was updating Facebook when I heard live on Radio Scotland, the First Minister's resignation speech.

That's it - all over now. My wee collection of much prized tokens are going to get bagged up and put away for the bandits in the future - (may help with history projects etc.) along with my referendum album.

Listening to him, I'm sure he was struggling not to cry as he spoke. I didn't bother strugging, I just let it flow. Eyes red and heartbroken, I had to wear sunglasses when I went out for tea with all of my family of yessers.

I know our time will come again, and I know next time we will win, but all of this is so painful, and I feel so raw just now. Don't know who to cry first and foremost for - Alex as he leaves Bute House, or Alistair as he tries not to look too victorious while he bleats vindication of their last minute promises.

I'm mad, I'm sad, and I'm terribly, terribly tired. I can't help crying, and a link my daughter put on Facebook to a song called "Son I just wrote this" (check it on You tube) didn't help at all. Tomorrow will be the day for cleaning the house and starting to get back to the old 'normal'. But today I have mainly cried.