George Frew finds Ann Widdecombe is not as formidable as she seems

Feeling like one of Lord Raglan's doomed 600 Cherrypickers charging into the Valley of Death, I enter the swish portals of Oxford's Randolph Hotel to make my appointment with the formidable Ann Widdecombe.

Miss Widdecombe and that's a defiant 'Miss' is in town to sign copies of her first novel, The Clematis Tree, an everday tale of love, family and euthanasia. Now, there are those who mock Ann Widdecombe with a corrosive vengefulness bordering on the spiteful, like acid burning into an ulcerated stomach.

What they find hard to bear is the former Lady Margaret Hall undergraduate's uncompromising positions and strongly-held views on every subject from prison reform to abortion. She's an easy target, it has to be said, but when you meet her face to face, you come away with the impression that her cruel nickname of Doris Karloff actually says more about the people who sneer at her than it does about Miss Widdecombe herself.

True, you wouldn't want to be the man to bring her home an opened pay-packet, but she's not nearly as alarming as you might first expect. The cannon, you feel, are still there in the Valley, but she wouldn't just fire one at you for no good reason.

"People frightened of me?" she harrumphs. "Nonsense. Are you frightened of me?" "No, Ann," I reply, but before I can add, "but I can imagine being so", she turns to my photographer George Reszeter and demands: "Are you frightened of me?"

"No," George replies.

"There you are then, " says Ann. "No-one is frightened of me. I've been delighted by the reviews my novel has received, but at the moment, I am not giving up politics. Instead, writing is like the start of a new hobby for me and when I do retire, I shall devote more time to it."

Politicians publishing fiction is nothing new, of course. From Lord Archer's tall tales to Edwina Currie's spiced-up sex stuff, the bookshops shelves are adequately stocked. Ann didn't think a lot of one of Mrs Currie's latest efforts and, typically, she doesn't hesitate to say so. "No, I didn't read the whole book, but I read enough of the extracts to know that it wasn't the sort of book for me."

Ann is not an enthusiast of the Currie penchant for sexual gymnastics, you understand. But she bears remarkably little malice, considering Edwina savaged Ann's debut tome.

"All good, clean fun," she says dismissively. "A huge number of people have enjoyed my book. They've read it and been surprised that it isn't a platform for my views. Sometimes, it's hard to divorce the politician from the writer like with Jeffrey Archer. With Jeffrey, it's very difficult to start an Archer and not to finish it. That's a skill in itself.

"I have always wanted to write books, but not as a platform for my political views. I had seven or eight ideas for this first novel, and was always aware of the danger of the subject matter being seen as a personal tract but it isn't." From 1969 to 1972, Ann Widdecombe studied at Lady Margaret Hall and has fond memories of Oxford (custard pies notwithstanding). There's a picture of her at that time standing beside a handsome young fellow who, had things turned out differently, may well have been a future husband. Instead, she lives with her two beloved cats and her mother.

I ask her if writing brings her an emotional fullfilment. "Fullfilment? No, no. My main thing in life is to have a sense of purpose and my politics and my Catholicism give me that. If you actually look at history, it's full of single people like Florence Nightingale, who had tremendously important roles.

"I'm still very anbitious I want to be Home Secretary. Most politicians don't look much further forward than the next reshuffle, but I belive in what Horace said: Carpe diem, seize the day." Contrary to other public Tory utterances, Ann Widdecombe believes that the Conservative Party can and will win the next election, and that Tony Blair does not have a God-given right to govern this country.

"I think he is a deeply arrogant and complacent man and I look forward to wiping that smile off his face at the next election," she says firmly.

The woman lampooned mercilessly as a fire-breathing Tory dragon says her next novel will be a tale of love, set in World War II France.

And whatever you think of her poilitics, you find yourself wishing that Ann Widdecombe had a love of her own whether it comes from her role in the House of Commons, her mother, her cats or her religion.

And no, she doesn't scare you in the slightest . Even up close and personal.