Donald Trump observed me from his seat behind the table at the bottom of the stairs.

It was hard work for me to totter down the steps towards him in my blue high heeled sandals. However, if I wanted to vote, the rule mandated that I take off my sky blue knickers and leave them on the registration table.

It was rather breezy on the way home. I marched along at speed, fearing that the longer that I was out, the more likely it was that a gust of wind would blow up my long shirt to reveal my naked bottom.