Memory is a peculiar thing. For instance, if you were to ask me what I was doing last Tuesday I would be hard pushed to give you a clear answer. But then recently, while following the news of the recent attacks on Iran, I suddenly found myself back in 1979 and walking, as I did most mornings, to where I worked in central Bristol.

I was crossing the bottom of St Michael’s Hill, listening to the news on headphones – except that I can’t have been because there were no mobile phones in those days. I must have listened to the radio earlier, while I had breakfast.

The news was full of accounts of the unrest accompanying the overthrow of the Shah of Iran. There were young people facing armed soldiers – a situation similar to those we have seen recently. I remember hearing how unarmed protesters were being advised to confront soldiers in threes. Two would be shot but the third would take the soldier’s weapon. I think it is that image that has stayed with me all those years.

I don’t propose drawing parallels; I’m not sure there are any — other than the perennial image of young men and women having the naivety to hope for a better life.