A fresh face in the North-East and the Commons, Helen Goodman is one of 40 new Labour MPs. She kept a diary of her first week as an MP for The Northern Echo.

FRIDAY, MAY 6, 4AM

THE votes are labelled and stacked up neatly in piles of a thousand on tables in front of the great railway engines in Shildon's Locomotion museum, where the count is taking place.

Bill Waters a stalwart of many counts leans over and tells me: "When he puts another marker sheet up, you've got 19,000 votes."

The returning officer takes the candidates on to a platform and announces the result. We've done it! Now I am laughing and the Labour Party supporters are all cheering.

I drive home with my husband as the sun begins to come up. The landscape is bathed in a rosy glow; Wordsworth's lines in my mind: "Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive, But to be young was very heaven."

Or at least middle-aged.

I feel full of energy, despite having been up for 23 hours, as if I can carry on without sleep for ever, and watch the television as the results roll in from the rest of the country.

There is a bottle of pink champagne in the fridge, so I open it and then, at 7am, have no difficulty in getting to sleep.

At 10am, the phone ring. Tyne Tees Television -will I go to Newcastle for an interview. When? Immediately.

"I'd love to." I hear myself say, despite the fact I am desperately tired; it is a three-hour round trip and I really need to go and collect my children, who stayed the night with friends.

SATURDAY, MAY 7

I go to a VE day celebration in Tudhoe. A woman I've met before smiles at me encouragingly. I ask her: "Do you know who I am?" She doesn't. Not quite a household name yet.

SUNDAY, MAY 8

TAKE the train from Darlington to London.

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MONDAY, MAY 9

PHIL JONES, who is to be my researcher in London, comes round. I spend three hours describing to him what a wonderful constituency Bishop Auckland is, poring over the map.

It's a real slice of England, with Spennymoor, Shildon and Bishop in the east, industrialised, and then a great sweep of farmland, up the Tees, into the Pennines, rising to ski-lifts above Mickle Fell.

I describe to him how I want to link the constituency issues with the work in Parliament. He seems really enthused, which pleases me.

TUESDAY, MAY 10

I ARRIVE to be greeted by a man in white tie and tails. "Welcome to the Palace of Westminster", he says.

Hilary Armstrong, as Labour's Chief Whip, has organised an induction day for Labour new members.

Everyone is really friendly and, not surprisingly, happy. I am pleased to discover that I know five others already.

There is a huge amount to learn -Parliamentary procedure, rules about money, a thousand new faces. And all this before you start to do the real work of tackling constituents' problems or contributing to political debate.

And then there is the geography. The old building is a real rabbit warren. I decide I must go and collect my mail from the post office. I feel immensely pleased at navigating my way to the one in Central lobby.

Wrong one. I must go to the one in the Members' Lobby. Wrong one again. Apparently there is a third. For goodness sake, how many post offices does a palace need?

WEDNESDAY, MAY 11

TODAY has been billed by the media as a major political event -a meeting of the Parliamentary Labour Party at which "rebels" are expected to challenge the Prime Minister.

The Committee Room where the meeting is held is packed by about 400 Labour MPs and peers.

I find a place to squeeze in. Nearly everyone in the room either is, or believes themselves to be, a great speaker. I begin to have serious self-doubts. Am I ever going to have any influence in this place?

An experienced member takes me under his wing. I relax and decide to view it as a piece of theatre.

Afterwards, we all file into the chamber for the election of the Speaker. At last, I am sitting on a green bench with colleagues.

We are all chatting and gossiping, before the ritual begins. It is all very good-humoured and, in contrast to the previous event, not at all a daunting.

THURSDAY, MAY 12

A HUNDRED more practical things to do.

Computer, messages, security arrangements, letters and calls from constituents and the public.

Today "swearing-in" begins. At the start of every Parliament, every member must take the oath of allegiance. New members, we are told, are at the back of the queue.

Hours will be spent waiting and it will probably not be our turn until next week anyway.

Around teatime I go into the Members' Lobby to see if there are any telephone messages for me. Four men in penguin suits descend on me immediately. "Have you sworn in?" they ask. "No," I reply.

"Hurry, hurry, hurry - go now or the Speaker will suspend the session."

I run into the Chamber, which is empty apart from six clerks wigs and Mr Speaker himself.

Breathlessly, I swear the oath, shake hands with Mr Speaker and sign the book behind his chair.

So now, a week after the election, am I really a full member of the House of Commons?