My earliest television memory is from the summer of 1973.
I crept downstairs in what seemed like the middle of the night but must have been around the 9pm watershed, to find my mother transfixed by a small man with enormously bushy eyebrows.
Wearing a thistly jacket and tie, he was balanced precariously on a kitchen table with one leg resting on a chair and the other swinging loose, talking with tremendous fluency about things I didn’t understand. On and