In a week of change and closure and moral arcs bending, I spotted something I’ve never seen before, and that was our Alan all alone.

‘Our Alan’ being Alan Turing, which is to say the statue of him in Manchester. It’s located by his old office, and a minute’s walk from the Crown Court where he was convicted of gross indecency for being gay, a ruling which led to his chemical castration and early death. This is still his neighbourhood, for better and for worse.

Unlike most memorial statues, Alan is not standing on a plinth gazing triumphantly at the skies. He’s sitting on a bench, looking you right in the eye, asking you a question that only you know. That’s the point.

And normally Alan has a crowd around him, reading his story and listening to what he has to say. You also often find someone sitting down with him in silent conversation – and yes, on occasion, that has been me. But there was no one there, at all.

I thought that was a poignant metaphor for the past few years, when the fight for a better society, and better technology uplifting that society, has been all but forgotten. As for the hatred and bigotry that Alan is there to remind you about too, there is work to do. There is so much work to do.

You can start as you should, by sitting down.