But then on Monday I was ambushed (sorry for being so abrupt). It’s hard to explain how it happened. The Referendum campaign is driving me nuts, forcing me to adopt a life-style which minimises the risk of bumping into it. It’s turned me into a fugitive, compelled to walk in the shadows and send out advance-parties to make sure it’s not there. These are days when a man’s got to watch what he sees and hears.
And if there’s one place where you’re bound to meet Referendum it’s Reporting Scotland; and on Monday night my guard slipped or, more precisely, I got the timing wrong. I usually manage to switch on just in time for the weather-forecast (it’s important to know whether there’s going to be sunshine and showers in my study tomorrow), but this time, to my horror, Remote put on Referendum; and, paralytic with shock, I froze, unable to switch off.