The Taoiseach stood on the steps outside Mary O'Rourke's election headquarters. He waved to the small group of party supporters, thrilled to see him in Athlone, writes Miriam Lord. He waved again and again, holding two well-stuffed envelopes in his hand.
Vanilla paper, in fairness. Not manila.
Last day in front of the cameras for Bertie - but like his confused Ministers at their final press conference earlier in the day, was his concentration beginning to wane too?
Contented-looking Fianna Fáil leader snapped holding fat envelopes? An unwise image, given the Taoiseach's tribulations at the start of this campaign and his party's unhappy association with that accursed item of stationery.
It wouldn't have happened in the early days, but things were winding down and the Taoiseach was mellowing by the minute.
Mellow also appeared to be the mood between his candidates Mary O'Rourke and Donie Cassidy - their cut-throat rivalry in Longford-Westmeath has provided a diverting sideshow during the campaign.
It was all sweetness and light: "honeyed tongues", as Mammy put it.
Privately, though, they are muttering about skulduggery and making dark comments about telling all when the election is over.
However, because the Taoiseach was visiting, they put aside their differences. As they waited for Bertie to arrive, the two stayed a discreet distance from each other. Anyway, there was a more pressing matter to resolve.
Mammy's office is located in St Mary's Square. A very large poster of councillor Nicky McFadden, the Fine Gael candidate, has been adorning a wall directly opposite. Its presence was viewed as an affront by her supporters yesterday, who didn't want it in their Taoiseach's eyeline.
So they put a similarly large poster of Mary over it.
Ms McFadden's people got to hear of this and took immediate action. They parked her blue campaign van next to the FF office, causing consternation.
Four strong men were dispatched with two O'Rourke billboards on poles to stand in front of the offending vehicle.
"Very bad form," sniffed Senator Camillus Glynn (FF), ignoring the fact that his side started it.
The ill-feeling evaporated on Bertie's arrival. He came straight from a local school, where he was met by workers from a local pharmaceutical firm which closed yesterday with the loss of 165 jobs. He was also confronted by the mother who can't get a place in school for her autistic child. Earlier in the day, he was heckled by Shell to Sea protesters in Ballina.
It was at this stage that journalists who had been covering the Taoiseach's campaign noted how he has rarely been confronted by protesters on the trail. Despite the proliferation of campaign groups on issues such as local hospitals and access to education, his tours have been relatively untroubled by embarrassing scenes with disgruntled citizens.
Perhaps this had something to do with his more limited schedule this time out, coupled with last-minute, often vague, confirmation of his travel plans.
With Mary welded to one shoulder and Donie superglued to the other, Bertie did a lightning tour of the town.
It's been a long few weeks. A couple, man and woman, appeared around a corner. "Howr'ya girls," roared Bertie, for the thousandth time.
The envelopes, by the way, were from local schoolgirls, with cards and keepsakes for grandchildren Rocco and Jay.