Since the BBC opened up its building to everyone it had the feel of a public library on a busy Saturday afternoon. Some offices were off-limits but – just as my mother and I had done – you could plonk yourself just about anywhere to watch the workings of the huge public sector broadcast corporation.

My mother embarrassed me somewhat in make-up when Melanie Sykes (very overweight) and Kylie Minogue sat down next us. ‘Hi Kyle!’ she greeted the Australian pop star. ‘She could have at least used her correct name’, I muttered under my breath.

We headed back to Edinburgh by taxi with GB. This was a huge mistake. The taxi driver was a violent criminal out to get my poor octogenarian mother. He made his move just as we crossed the city bypass, lifting her into the footwell at the front of the vehicle. His swift action was like a hawk reaching for its prey.