Seeing David Davis boarding the 7.30am Waterloo train for Bournemouth this morning (a red-eye express it was not - the train took three hours), carrying his own bags, and sitting alone in first class, I couldn't help but muse what a long time a year is in politics.
This time last year the shadow home secretary arrived in Blackpool the absolute favourite and front-runner in the Tory leadership beauty parade, with dozens of MPs signed up for him and the contest seemingly sewn-up. A deadly dull and badly delivered opening fringe speech on the first night to the centre-left Bow group, followed up by a tame and faltering conference speech, did for Mr Davis in the faded melancholy of the Winter Palace.
Twelve months on and Mr Cameron is mobbed by the press as he arrives by chauffeur-driven car at the Highcliff Hotel, every footstep followed by a scrum of photographers and cameramen, while Mr Davis makes his own way here.
