Memories flooding back

I WAS in a pub in the Midlands the other evening, driven there purely by a need to shelter from the cold. There was a vibrant hum of conversation in the place — bowls, tennis, local and overseas, rugby, the weather — the things that really count.

- THE IDLER

Also gallant courtesy to the classy barmaids. Nobody seemed to be talking about unpleasantness like the hideous situation in Gaza or Ukraine, or the riskiness facing Taiwan. All seemed as it should be in an orderly world.

Then suddenly, a blast from the past. There at the end of the bar was Graham McIntosh, once an MP who I got to know well during my phase in the Press Gallery of Parliament. He was in good spirits. “Have you seen Nick lately?”