In 1995 I requested a meeting with Frank Dobson, then Labour’s environment spokesman. He invited me one wintry evening to his office, which was in a turret of the building on the corner of Parliament Street and Westminster Bridge Road.
The office was deserted. Frank said to me: “Put your bag down and go and stand against the wall over there.” At that, he switched off all the lights. Fortunately, all he wanted was to show me the lit-up face of Big Ben, which magically filled the oriel window above his desk. Needless to say, the meeting progressed in an entirely business-like fashion.
