As I was dropping off to sleep last night there was something niggling me at the back of my mind, and it took a couple of minutes to realise what it was.
I'd watched chief rabbi Ephraim Mirvis on the news earlier that day as he was getting into his car, surrounded by a press mob. He had a broad smile on his face. He greeted the press mob with a cheery "Hello!" or "Good morning!" His entire demeanour was one of a relaxed, contented man in a very happy frame of mind. And this, I realised, was what was niggling me.
This same chap had just given an interview and written an article in The Times that spoke of an existential threat to Jews and Jewish life in this country if Jeremy Corbyn won the election. He had (if not directly) branded Jeremy Corbyn as an anti-semite. His people, his life, his society, faced a cataclysmic threat that was unprecedented in the UK, leading to a high percentage of Jews saying they would leave this country if Corbyn became PM.
You'd have expected a man expressing such sentiments to have a fearful, worried look about him. You might have imagined someone with his concerns unable to sleep at nights because of the strain he's under, who is pale and strained with nagging doubt about his own and his community's survival. If I felt so threatened I think my face and behaviour would show it. But the chief rabbi seems to be in ebullient high spirits, beaming at the press and giving every impression of being at his ease and enjoying himself.