In her Scotsman column this week, Christine Jardine has made many of us in Scotland cry. She wrote about Jim Wallace, about meeting him as a young reporter and then as a fellow parliamentarian.

I first met Jim Wallace in 1992 when I was a journalist with no political allegiance, and he had just become Scottish Liberal Democrat leader. I remember telling my husband and colleagues that he seemed like a decent bloke, and in some ways too ‘nice’ for politics.

That came back to me on Thursday when I learned of his death. Because in truth, that first impression was the one that stuck with me through the 30 years during which he influenced and shaped my personal and political direction, and the country’s.

It never felt like an overt, interfering influence. More like a favourite wise uncle whose opinion you would seek and whose approval you cherished. He was someone you felt was motivated by doing the right thing, not for political gain or to win votes, but to be fair and just.

Perhaps that is why, as a colleague said to me, it feels like in losing him we have lost part of our conscience and our ability not just to do the right thing, but to recognise it. I can visualise him shaking his head at me for talking such nonsense about him.

That’s another thing I will remember. The modesty.

She shared her favourite memory of Jim:

Perhaps my favourite memory however is from the 2019 general election. Jim came door knocking with me in Edinburgh.

Two days later, he messaged to say that he’d been campaigning in Ed Davey’s seat when a woman whose door they knocked had said that she wasn’t a supporter even though her cousin was a Lib Dem MP. When she said my name, Jim whipped out the selfie of him and I from the day before and she was won over.

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