Along with loving polling days because it meant a day off school, my first real memory of a political story was the disappearance of John Stonehouse in 1974. I was 7. What really struck me was the development of the story. To start with he was missing, then he appeared to have committed suicide, then finally he turned out to be alive. It was the first time I was aware that the grown-ups didn’t actually know the end of the story when it was first reported.