The day Brown didn't use his loaf

Gillian Duffy didn't even know Prime Minister Gordon Brown was in her home town of Rochdale until she decided to pop to the shops and inadvertently found herself at the eye of a huge political storm.

After what appeared to many a relatively innocuous exchange between the two, Mr Brown was caught out labelling her a "bigot" by a stray microphone which remained switched on as he moved away. The gaffe was on air within minutes, followed by a swirling media frenzy and political carnage for the PM.

And 6 Tintern Avenue, Mrs Duffy's well-kept, ivy-clad, pebbledashed mid-terrace home, became a magnet for scores of reporters and film crews.

"I was going for a loaf of bread and I saw the police stopping and I thought 'Oh, there must have been a crime'," Mrs Duffy said.

"And then I saw the Labour bus coming down and I said 'Is Gordon Brown here?' and the policeman said 'Yes'. So I thought I would talk to him and see if he was taking any questions."

Married for more than 40 years to her late husband, Richard, a painter and decorator, Mrs Duffy did not take kindly when she learned of Mr Brown's off-air criticism.

A life-long Labour voter, she said: "I am going out of the country so I have gone on a postal vote and it is still at the bottom of the stairs. So I thought 'I must post that' before I leave but I won't, I'll rip it up."

Mr Brown quickly apologised publicly on the radio, followed by a personal phone call to Mrs Duffy.

But as the crisis deepened, Mr Brown turned tail and headed back to Rochdale.

More used to jetting to the White House or the United Nations for high-level talks with other world leaders, he went to say sorry to Mrs Duffy in person.

His cavalcade, with police motorcycle outriders, swept into Tintern Avenue and, with a smile and "Hello" to reporters, Mr Brown jumped out of his bullet-proof Jaguar and entered Mrs Duffy's house, not at high noon, but at three minutes past three.

Four of Mr Brown's personal bodyguards anxiously scanned the media scrum camped outside the house awaiting news.

Every twitch of the chintz curtains, every shadow behind the porch's frosted glass window, and the nervous Press pack edged ever closer to the door.

Standing around in Mrs Duffy's red-brick drive, with some in her carefully tended bushes, camera crews, TV anchormen, political correspondents and photographers jostled for space, as the summit meeting unfolded.

What was being said inside no-one yet knows. Mrs Duffy's white front door was kept firmly closed.

What is known is that Mr Brown probably spent more time at Number 6 than he has with some heads of state at Number 10.

Just under 40 minutes later, peace had seemingly broken out. Mr Brown emerged from the porch to address the media.

Penitent and remorseful, he apologised profusely before he was off, enveloped by another media scrum.

Left behind at the bottom of Mrs Duffy's stairs stood a small wooden plaque to greet visitors.

Labelled "An Irish Proverb" it reads, never fall in and those within never fall out."

It was where Mrs Duffy earlier told reporters she had left her postal vote ready for mailing.

Only one piece of literature remained – a canvassing leaflet from the local Lib Dems.