But I did know him slightly, as I may have mentioned earlier. When I was a student at Edinburgh University in the early and so-long-ago 1970s, Gordon Brown was the Rector, and a very active one; this in itself was unusual, since the position, that of a liaision between the student body and the university administration, had previously been regarded as essentially ceremonial. But Gordon took the bit in his teeth, and got involved, mostly on his own behalf. Once I went to see him in his office. There was a political fair going on at the Student Union, and I was incensed at the appearance of a poster of Joseph Stalin and Mao behind the Revolutionary Workers' Party booth. The Rector was the bloke who negotiated permits for this kind of thing, so I intended to make an official complaint. "Get rid of Stalin and Mao," I said to Gordon, "or by God, I'll...I'll..." "You'll what?" he inquired. "I'll put up a picture of Mussolini," I spluttered. "No, Mussolini and Hitler. What do you think of that then, eh?" "Not much," said Gordon. "Not that I don't sympathize with your feelings. But the Revolutionary Workers' Party is a legal organization and I'm afraid the Italian Fascisti and the Nazis aren't. So they can keep their poster, at least until the courts rule against them. Next question?" That was Gordon: firm but fair, I reckoned. Legalistic to a fault, but not nasty about it. Humbled, I left and went to the Meadow Bar to mull over my defeat. It was in that bar, on another occasion, that Gordon once bought a round for a group I was part of. Some Labour bigwig was visiting, so the local party coffers were open. Strictly speaking, that means I can claim to have been bought a drink by the British Prime Minister. As of next Thursday, that'll be ex-Prime Minister. Too bad, Gordon. You tried. But you made it to No. 10, after all. And that seemed like a very long road indeed, back in 1972, in the Meadow Bar, in Edinburgh.
