When all this first started, there was only one thing I panic-bought – a dartboard. My dad first showed me how to throw a dart about 40 years ago. On that day I achieved a promising level of competence, in that more darts actually hit the board than missed it. With such a great start in the game, the future was full of promise. I was given a dartboard for my bedroom and I’ve played, irregularly, ever since. I’m sorry to say that over four decades my game has improved not at all. Lockdown presents a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to change this.

It’s a funny thing with darts, I’ve never been a great fan of it, but I’ve always been dimly aware of the goings-on in the game as some kind of sporting cultural backdrop to my life. Eric Bristow was a big figure in my youth. After university I did a week’s work experience at a local newspaper, the Solihull Times. Eric was appearing at a pub in the area doing some promotion for an electronic darts thing, and I was sent along to cover the event. I was so nervous I could barely hold a pen. Unless you count overtaking Jimmy Greaves on the M1, this was my first encounter with a celebrity.