Today’s the 30th anniversary of my first recorded political intervention. Harold Wilson resigned as Prime Minister, and went on telly to tell the nation what he’d done. I was watching children’s TV at the time – aged three – and wasn’t happy with this interruption in the usual programming. “What’s Mr Wilkins doing?”, I asked, annoyed, prompting my mother’s first and, I think, only ever telephone call of complaint to the BBC switchboard.
Revisionist historians will probably now say that Mr Wilson didn’t interrupt Playschool, or something, but that’s how the story has been passed down to me. I don’t remember it myself.