A few weeks ago, a notification flashed up on my phone. It was from Leo Varadkar. The first message from him in years. He was inviting me to the launch of his ghostwritten memoirs, Speaking My Mind. I didn’t open it, and started thinking about how to politely decline. I didn’t have to; he soon realised his mistake and deleted the message. Phew.  He had invited the husband, Mr Lannin, and me to a few events before he was Taoiseach and afterwards, but we didn’t click. We’d no falling out, since we’d no falling in, but he was often angry…

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