In the chaos of a conference morning, the celestial strains of a violin made my soul

Last Sunday morning found me at the Highcliff Hotel in Bournemouth, the conference hotel for Labour’s 2007 gathering and — the reason I was there — the temporary home of the BBC television’s Andrew Marr Show.

Along with my fellow journalist Anne McElvoy, I was Andrew’s guest reviewer of the morning newspapers. I was in to read them at seven, a huge red orb of a sun rising over the sea as I made my way along the cliff tops from my hotel on the East Cliff to the West Cliff and our studio. It was cool, breezy and beautiful, the Channel a choppy and restless autumn symphony of greys and blues.

Inside the Highcliff another mood reigned. Beneath low ceilings and the glare of television lights, people rushed hither and thither. There was a panic about the presenter’s earpiece, which had not arrived from London. Hotel staff jostled through the throng with trays of coffee as technicians and personal assistants faffed and fiddled, mobile phones rang and guests tripped on trailing camera cables.