The Stockton Arms had undergone a dramatic change since I was last a regular sixth former visitor in the early 1980s. The biggest difference was that children were now welcome. All those sitting near to me were very well behaved, the majority looked after by their fathers who were enjoying a pint.
I sat at my table and hand wrote some notes. A man leant over and asked to see what I was doing. I showed him some of the photos glued inside my notebook. He was particularly interested in the shots of my glamorous sisters-in-law. Then I explained who I was, and my connection to the White House.
He found it hard to believe that I was related to JMH – until she turned up and we were able to demonstrate our likeness by pulling funny faces at him.