Ruth Davidson gives the Scottish Tories grounds for hope. At last.

Because I spent the weekend moving house and being depressed by events in Cardiff I did not attend the Scottish Conservative’s spring conference in Edinburgh. A dereliction of journalistic duty, perhaps, but also, well, life takes over sometimes.

In truth, I didn’t worry about missing the conference. Attending these things can be dangerous. Like journalism, politics attracts a grim number of copper-bottomed, ocean-going shits but also, like journalism again, a greater number of decent, public-spirited, optimistic folk than you might imagine. Most politicians, most of the time, are in the game for most of the right reasons.

Speaking to these people has its uses but, also, its dangers. Before you know it you end up liking them. Which is a roundabout way of saying that Ruth Davidson has been a wee problem for me.

I’ve known Ruth, you see, since university days. She is tough, smart and fun. Caustic on occasion, too. But in a generally good way.