I believe that it was the famous philosopher Jean-Jaques Rousseau who stated that "far too many writers are prone to quoting famous philosphers in their work, in order to make out that they're intelligent".
I'm not intelligent.
I initially turned up for my meeting with Anne Widdecombe two days early, having copied down the date of our meeting incorrectly. When I met her today, I was 10 minutes late, although that wasn't down to my stupidity, but rather the stupidity of the bloody Jubilee Line tube train that decided to park itself in a tunnel just south of Green Park station for 5 minutes.
Come to think of it, I'd have probably been late anyway.
At least I had my Ipod to keep me company, listening to 'Hits of the Eighties' on loop. I never realised how good the music of A Flock of Seagulls was, including their seminal hit I Ran So Far Away* although I can't agree with what Rose, an American friend of mine at work, says.
She tried to convince me that the song is basically about the failure of democratised Western nations to foresee the danger thats presently eminating out of a certain Middle Eastern state, because it's on the other side of the world. I noticed the space between the "I" and the "Ran" and also that the song was written in 1985 and concluded that it was about someone who was running a great distance.
So bearing in mind my errant journey earlier in the week, this entire morning was a case of deja-vu. I feel as though I now know the ticket collectors at Westminster, as well as the security guards and receptionists in Anne's building, personally.
Anne herself, and indeed her PA Annalinda, were absolutely brilliant. My tardiness wasn't in the least bit held against me, and I was invited to have the photo taken with the fantastic backdrop of the Houses of Parliament behind my noggin as you can see.
Following a brief chat, where I informed the Right Honourable MP for Maidstone & the Weald as to who the other MP's from my list were, she immediately picked up her phone and dialled the office of Boris Johnson, to see if he was around, which I thought was extremely kind of her.
I confess to feeling slightly embarassed that Boris might actually answer the call and be asked whether he was available to shake the hand of a random stranger, so I think I said something like, "Anne, don't worry this really isn't a 3 line whip. I don't want to trouble him," to which she replied that Boris would be happy to do something like this, it's just getting hold of him that's difficult as he's sometimes a little disorganised. I said that I'd noticed. He wasn't about anyway.
As I left, I was given a generous gift for the RNIB auction, a signed copy of Anne's book The Clematis Tree.
Here's a thing. I once had a number of clematis plant's growing on my balcony. That was before my flat was occupied by a couple of Swedes (Scandinavians not root vegtables. I hope that I actually didn't need to clarify that to you). These Swede's clearly had brown fingers, not in a rude sense, but it's just that when they vacated my flat and I moved back in, I noticed that all of my plantlife was dead including said clematii. I was heart broken.
* Possibly only known by individuals born between the years 1960 and 1978, or owners of GTA San Andreas on the Playstation.