Yesterday was a busy day in the life of a journalist much sought after by the electronic media.
It started with a two-and-a-half hour drive to St Paul de Vence to be interviewed by France 2 about the sad affair of the 10th Earl of Shaftesbury, murdered - a French court decided - by the brother of his third wife, who did not wish divorce to get in the way of a tidy inheritance.
Why I ever agreed to do it is a mystery. French TV, rather like much of the rest of the world of broadcasting, proceeds on the basis that newspaper journalists are there to be tapped for whatever knowledge they have, free of charge. I thought No but said Yes, OK when they asked, so have no one else to blame.
The events under discussion occurred five years ago. A lot has happened in my life since and I made simple errors of recollection in my responses. The very amiable crew did reimburse my petrol and motorway tolls, and even paid for lunch, unappetising as it turned out to be, but I was still left wondering why I had let myself in for it.
Then, a friend in the North East of England rang from BBC Radio Newcastle. Would I go on a teatime programme to talk about the 10th anniversary of an attempt to murder Martin McGartland, who had been exposed as an informant whose tip-offs on IRA plans had saved the lives of dozens of intended targets?
The BBC seems to have taken to expecting these things for free, too. But it was a friend that had asked, so I readily agreed. Again, my memory was occasionally a little dodgy, though it had been refreshed to some extent by my elder daughter's role as publicist in promoting the recent film about McGartland's exploits, 50 Dead Men Walking.
Luckily, very few people who know me will have heard my ramblings on BBC local radio. Still fewer will tune in when France 2 gets round later in the year to screening its special on the killing of the Earl of Shaftesbury.
And the next time someone asks, maybe the head will rule the heart.
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