I don't know how all of my friends vote; it doesn't come up. But it would be a lie to say that I don't surround myself with people who have a similar moral code to mine.

Personally, I find the decisions and actions of my Tory colleagues appalling, but I also know plenty of Labour voters who are less than perfect.

My paternal grandma was a raving Thatcherite, one who had a xenophobic turn of phrase for most proceedings.

When your worldview is challenged, you'd be surprised how quickly you can find a way to dismiss reality.

When working at Women's Aid, I met countless women whose families had not believed them when they spoke of their abuse at the hands of another loved one.

It might be easy to brush away the febrile atmosphere online as a nasty byproduct of free expression: it's less easy when it happens to you.

I've carried witty banners against laws that would curtail my freedoms.

If the internet has taught me anything it is that people are either heroes or they belong in the bin.

When my children were little, I would chat with my husband or my mum friends about how we were superior parents to other people, or that so-and-so was lying about how their children slept through the night.

If a friend got a big promotion, I would outwardly congratulate them, but inside I would painfully compare myself with them and think that their success was a reflection on my failings.

I am not into self-exploration. My family would lose their eyes in the backs of their heads if people talked about personal journeys or finding oneself.

As a mother, I want the very best for my children. As a politician, I want what is best for all children.

In short, that politicians do or don't have families should no longer have any bearing on their abilities to hold office or to care more or less about the future of the country.

I'm not usually one to heap praise on Jeremy Corbyn but I love that he doesn't drag his wife on stage for awkward snogs after his annual speech at the party conference.

Political books are so often written from the perspective of the politicians, not from the point of view of the people.

In the world of fiction, politics usually appears considerably more exciting than it is.

Rhe language of politics is experienced by most as spin with the assumption of dishonesty.

The Labour party is not perfect but I have seen in my own life how it is the greatest vehicle for positive hopeful social change.

The politics of hope is harder to spread than the politics of hate.

I have felt the force of what governments can do. I remember my elder son being in the first cohort of kids who got a free nursery place, I remember the palliative care my mother got at home as I watched her die.

For me socialism has never been an intellectual pursuit. It comes from my upbringing and experience.

Today we're more distanced from each other, the bonds formed at the local shop replaced by the massive supermarket or the stressed driver thrusting a package through a letterbox. Instead of meeting in pubs, more of us sit at home with supermarket wine and Netflix.

Anyone standing for leader of the Labour party has a responsibility to speak truth, because without that we will never win power.

Lisa Nandy is absolutely right that we need to devolve economic power away from Westminster and learn from what Labour councils around the country are doing.