My first thought after meeting Nicola Sturgeon on the campaign trail in Glasgow many years ago was: “I didn’t know they still made pocket battleships on the Clyde.”
This diminutive young woman, a “nippy sweetie” as they say in those parts, bursting with political vitality, was clearly going places.
But not to Westminster, the centre of the universe for most ambitious wannabe-MPs, but Edinburgh, as part of a nationalist government for Scotland.
