I was fourteen, I think, when I first met Anne Widdecombe. At the time I had no great political sensibilities and no fully formed opinions on politics, bar those I suspect I absorbed from the adults around me, rather than thinking myself. My mother and step father ran a small fruit farm in Kent, and Anne was our local MP. There was a garden party they were invited to, as was she, and during the course of it, being young and a bit out of place – …