As I sit to write this it's three minutes past eleven on the evening of the eighteenth of September, two thousand and fourteen. Of course I could have written that sentence with far fewer keystrokes, but the pseudo formality feels right for the occasion. Because today history has been made. And in a few hours from now I'll find out if I'm one of those who made the change, or was a bit player as a nation actually turns down the offer of independence - the latter an unprecedented event as far as my knowledge goes.
The polls have closed, the rhetoric and shouting and half truths and downright lies are at rest, and all we can do now is watch and wait. The only big decisions left are whether to watch BBC or STV, and if I should pull an allnighter or try for a nap and an early rise?
If you've read this blog before, or follow me on Twitter or Facebook, then you'll know exactly how I voted and which result I'm hoping for, so I'm going to skip that issue and look at how it's felt to be a part of such an epochal event.
We went out to vote late in the morning, by which time the flow in and out of our polling station wasmodest and there was no queue to join. Outside the Yes and No campaign representatives stood chatting away to each other like old pals (perhaps they were). There was no sense of great drama,not a hint of intimidation, none of the elements beloved of the sensationalist end of the media. The only drama was in my my own heart and head when I paused before marking my cross in the box. This really did feel so very different from any vote I've ever cast before.
Our afternoon took in a (Yes leaning) comedy play about the referendum, a bit of coffee and cake, and then a Danish thriller at the cinema. So I haven't spent a lot of time walking the streets and my sense of the occasion is largely based on time spent on buses, and in the cafe and the theatre bar. The skies over Edinburgh have been grey and gloomy all day and the public mood may have been influenced by the weather. There seemed little excitement, no hint of panic. But there was a definite tension in the air, not of the crackling electric variety, but an expectant calm that knows there will be a lot of disappointed people in the morning. Very few Yes or No badges were in evidence on the street, although journalists were evident everywhere.
But the evidence from the ballot boxes belies this to an extent. Following on from the record breaking 97% registration figure, there looks to have been a voter turnout unheard of in this country. I've seen a story from one of the more rural stations, of all registered voters having recorded their votes by nine thirty this morning. Many stations had queues awaiting their opening at seven am. Are we going to hit 90% turnout? As an exercise in democracy, whatever the outcome, this has been a remarkable occasion. And, despite the efforts of the tabloids, largely devoid of nastiness (any large scale campaign that raises such passions is bound to bring out a few extremists on either side). Citizens have been engaged, excited, ready to debate the issues and on both sides this has become as much a movement of the people as of politicians. Scotland can be proud of being such a civilised country.
Whatever tomorrow brings the world will be different. For all sorts of reasons. For me the greatest of these is that the Yes movement has taken on the combined power and money of the UK government, what is generally referred to as "The Establishment", and 95% of the mass media (the Sunday Herald was the only national publication to come out for Yes, and there were justifiable doubts about the even-handedness of the BBC) and still managed to convince around half the electorate to join their cause. That is a remarkable achievement, win or lose.
Now let's wait and see.
Oh, England, just give us a bit of space now, eh? It isn't always about you....
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