Thus did I note an only almost sigh from our perfectly friendly deputy prime minister as he said "Hello again" when we met yesterday.

You can't blame him. The life of a cabinet minister may include getting into all the right parties and having armed protection every time you leave your house, but it has its downsides as well.

Yesterday the DPM saw how millions of pounds from his regional growth fund are being spent as part of a research consortium including multi-national household cleaning product firm Procter & Gamble.

He was, as ever, well received by those he met. No mean achievement for a man who managed to upset Tyneside's large student population and is single-handedly to blame for his party losing control of Newcastle Council last May.

Mr Clegg has a well rehearsed line or two about how this is all in the national interest, coalition involves difficult decisions, etc etc, but there's no hiding from the fact that for many in the North East the Liberal Democrats are merely the Tories in sheep's clothing.

But yes, welcomed he was. Deep in the depths of P&G's Tyneside base is a room filled with washing machines for those all-important tests. Here, for a good 30 minutes, the world of cleaning liquids was explained to an admirably interested Nick Clegg.

Such is his commitment to putting up with the less glamorous side of his job, he barely batted an eyelid when he was told by one researcher that the science behind washing tablets was "an unlikely coalition. I'm sure you'll know what that is like".

I mention this because it's worthwhile people knowing the reality behind politics stories such as the one appearing in today's Journal.

First, there is a lot of waiting. This is one of the many hidden realities of what should be a thrilling career in journalism.

When the big names visit, there is far more time spent waiting for them then there is actually talking to them.

Then from the waiting comes the tour of some occasionally quite interesting sites. Narec, the renewable energy centre in Blyth, is always a treat.

And then the handful of stolen minutes, often on a windy building site as you desperately try to write a legible shorthand note while also struggling to get the MP or whoever to answer the question just put to them, rather than commenting on the question they wish you'd asked them.

With some MPs this is a Sisyphean task, a constant battle to get the more open answer and a task which inevitably sees the reporter left to pitch the question again and again.

Mr Clegg, however, responds well to this technique. If you push him, verbally, just a little, he will respond well. If you push a little further you'll see a hint of what must be a bit of a temper beneath the friendly exterior.

Your correspondent opened with the perhaps mildly aggressive gambit "Why are you here announcing old news rather than the next round of growth cash?"

A clearly riled Mr Clegg responded with an unexpected "Well, because I'm not."

Reader, I was flummoxed.

Rarely does a politician revert back to such a simple answer. He did add to it, and not with a mere "so there" but an explanation of how that announcement is due soon.

Later that same impatience appeared again as Mr Clegg was challenged to admit the policies he was listing as been designed to help the North East specifically were in fact national policies, leaving little dedicated support for one of the UK's hardest hit regions.

Then, before you know it, the fun is over and one of the charming media assistants who follow ministers around arrive to tell you about the train.

It is always a train that they must catch and so no, sadly, you can't have a chance to press the case further. At this point Mr Clegg, or whoever, will assure you he knows the point you're making, grips, grins, and is off again until the next mutli-million pound deal needs to be announced.

And there you have it. An inside guide to what really happens when our fearless leaders descend on the regions.