Diary

To Edinburgh, that most gracious and civilised of cities, for what promises to be a less than altogether agreeable experience. I have to confess that, when BBC1’s Question Time rang to ask whether I might be available to take part in last week’s show from that city, the words ‘hole’ and ‘head’ sprang to mind. Scottish audiences tend not to be — how to put this — entirely sympathetic to my general take on the world. And since the likely topics for this encounter are global warming and the Iraq war inquiry, the chances of this audience responding with enthusiasm to a right-wing warmongering certifiable neocon Zionist climate-change denier with a posh London accent are about as high as Al Gore becoming a cheerleader for the Republican party.

Monday I can’t quite believe what we had a strategy meeting about this morning. My hands are trembling as I type... What if climate change doesn’t exist? It’s too awful to contemplate. But we are being asked to consider: what if the earth is not getting warmer? What if the world is not sleepwalking to ecological disaster?! What if... OMG... what if Lord Lawson is right!?!?!! Gary said we need a fallback position, in case there’s more of this stuff about scientists telling porkies. But Jed said to question our faith in climate change now would be heresy. The lack of proof, he says, is the whole point. ‘If the big guy with the beard came down from the sky and introduced himself it wouldn’t be faith, would it?

Monday Exciting trip to Norfolk for the ‘de-selection’. After a gruelling train journey east, Poppy and I tucked into a delicious spread in a heavenly tea shop with the biggest scones ever. Everything was so cheap! We bought two of everything in all the shops, and got some great deals on Haggarts Tweed. We then had to meet Sir Jeremy Bagge, Turnip Taleban commander, who demanded to know why ‘Central Office’ — I think he means CCHQ — had sent a couple of giggly schoolgirls to sort out the biggest challenge to Dave’s authority. What a cheek! We informed him that this was not the biggest challenge to Dave’s authority. That was when Mr Grieve nearly took a principled stand on grammar schools, but thankfully didn’t.

Not long ago, I astounded the men sitting next to me at a dinner party (yes, dinner parties still take place here and there) by saying that I thought Gordon Brown was handsome, and indeed had sex appeal. The men exclaimed that I had gone off my rocker. But the women within earshot immediately chipped in to support me. They agreed that the Prime Minister was an attractive man: he exuded an aura of manliness, of reticence, of depth of feeling, all qualities which are very attractive to women. There then followed one of those enjoyable conversations about who among our leading politicians did, and who did not, have sex appeal.

Many hands tore at the Berlin Wall. To a large extent it collapsed from its own weight, but we should acknowledge the shove given by European democrats, Pope John Paul II, the dissidents in the Soviet Union, and Arthur Schlesinger Jr and George Kennan, who defined the policies that contained communism without blowing up the world or in the name of freedom destroying freedom at home. And Gorbachev. I see him around a lot and regret that he never seems to get the acclaim he deserves for being willing to put his country before his party. Americans tend to give most of the credit to Ronald Reagan.

Monday Some v awkward people are deliberately misunderstanding what Dave said about women- only shortlists. We feel we must remind these people that troublemaking is fundamentally unConservative and that any further attempts to disrupt Compassionate Cameronian principles of compliance with the party line and non-resistance to the stated policy of the leadership will be met with the strongest possible measures. Just to be clear: when Dave said, ‘I want women-only shortlists’, he did not mean that we are going to bring in women-only shortlists. Duh!! What he meant — and I can’t believe we are having to spell this out — is that we may or may not have all-women shortlists at some point in the future, quite possibly by accident. Or not.

Pope Benedict’s visit to Britain next year is a true historical landmark, as it will be the first official visit of a reigning pontiff in history. Pope Benedict’s visit to Britain next year is a true historical landmark, as it will be the first official visit of a reigning pontiff in history. John Paul II’s visit in 1982 was a private one. Gordon Brown says he invited his Holiness, which — if true — would represent a gross breach of protocol. Only the Queen can invite a head of state to Britain. Baroness Thatcher also discussed the prospect of a visit when she met the Pope in Rome earlier this summer. But the real go-between was Francis Campbell, Britain’s ambassador to the Holy See, the first Catholic to be appointed to that post.

Monday Oh dear. What a sad day. Desperate calls from upset MPs to the Expenses Helpline. Many of them elderly and beside themselves with worry about how they are going to make the repayments. Some are even having to contemplate horrendous sacrifices such as selling paintings that have been in their family for centuries! Of course, we are giving them all the support we can, but Dave is adamant: pay up or stand down. (He’s so sexy when he does ultimatums!) And as Jed movingly pointed out at morning strategy meeting, every cloud has a silver lining.

Alan Clark will always have a special place in my heart. He remains the only person ever to sue me for libel. I still occasionally have a nightmare in which he is personally cross-examining me in the witness box and the court is erupting in laughter at his sneering sallies and my flustered answers. What happened was that, in the course of a rather turgid article in the TLS about the Tories’ prospects (it was 1996 and they were dismal), I remarked that Mr Alan Clark was ‘colourful certainly, endearing possibly but not exactly a man of bottom’. Alan erupted, claiming that I had accused him of financial dishonesty and linked him to the Tory MPs who were being skewered for sleaze at the time.

A week to enjoy the autumn sunshine by the sea. Gluttony is no longer fashionable but what better way to celebrate my birthday on Monday than to spend a few hours at the Royal Native Oyster restaurant in Whitstable? Sitting by the Kent beach, I confess to consuming 24 oysters, a crab, a lobster, two bottles of Pouilly Fumé, a plum crumble and Irish coffee. Thankfully my wife was more modest. All her entreaties for restraint were answered by my description of Samuel Pepys’s vastly superior daily consumption as described in Claire Tomalin’s wonderful biography. Inevitably, I later collapsed on the shingle rereading that day’s lead entry in the Times’s ‘Happy Birthday’ column.

‘Be very careful, Susans, I have find an adder in the wheelbarrow.’ ‘Nah, it’ll be a grass snake, Spiros.’ Stern glare. ‘Susans, don’t forget I am from Corfu.’ ‘OK, it’s an adder.’ All God’s creatures are welcome here — but an adder? I was treated for my wasp allergy by Professor David Warrell, a world expert on venoms, snakes a speciality, and he says, ‘Never underestimate the humble adder.’ Oh, don’t worry. I now know what to do, am reassured that adders do not strike out at random and the household is on high alert to wear Wellingtons in long grass at all times. Naturally the adder has vanished. Spiros says it emerged to bask in the one day of warm sunshine this summer.