There are no ballot papers, there are no voters, yet I am here in an official capacity. But - and those who know me will expect a 'but' - I'm in Brussels.
To be precise, I'm in "Les Postiers', a bar near the Theatre Royal de la Monnaie, nursing a glass of Rochefort, the trappist beer, rather than the cheese, as the culmination of nearly six months of bemusement approaches.
Readers may recall that I had sought the Party's nomination for a place on the reconstituted Financial Advisory Committee of the European Liberal Democrats (ELDR) during its last Council meeting in Palermo. It is perhaps indicative of the way the Party handles its international affairs, or just possibly a sign of the regard I am held in, that my name was notified to the Secretariat, and then... silence.
Eventually, word came that my name was to go forward, with four others, for consideration by the ELDR Bureau and, by the way, could I let them have a brief resume and a few words on why I wanted to serve. That was surprisingly easy, and I was told that the Bureau would meet in early March to decide. How many vacancies there were was left unsaid, and so I waited.
As it turned out, there were five vacancies, the Bureau never discovered my record of cannabalism, bank robbery and origami, and I was in.
And so, here I am, preparing for our first meeting, tomorrow morning. Except, I'm not sure exactly what I'm preparing for. Yes, I've read the papers - and very nice they are too - and I have my number-crunching head on, so all should be well. It's just that I feel a bit... unsure about the whole thing.
Ah well, only fifteen hours until the moment of truth. Wish me luck!...