THE wide open spaces. The solitude. Being so far from the real world. It was a dog’s dream.

You guessed it – I’ve been at the Scottish Conservative conference. 

What a journey it was.

My owner, who ditches me five days a week for this newspaper’s offices, had been tasked with covering the event.

I’m never one to turn down a camping trip, and I’d been told to expect an airlift up to Aberdeen. Apparently someone called Carrie intervened saying there would only have been room for me, and not my humans. So I had to slum it in the campervan instead.

READ MORE: We ask MPs at the Scottish Tory conference to list Brexit benefits for Scotland

That was a disappointing start, but we made it to Balmedie Beach nonetheless. And there, I couldn’t be contained. I was running laps, spinning around in circles, changing direction so fast that a photographer asked if I was one of the “Scottish Tory MPs” – whoever they are.

You’d think a gorgeous Scottish staycation setting like this would be bliss for a golden retriever. But the hours dragged on. I was excited for the big day tomorrow! I’d heard so much about the “tail wagging the dog” whenever the Scottish Conservatives were mentioned – surely there would be new friends for me to make?

The hours passed into a starless night.

Followed by a starless day, as the climax of the event rolled around.

The National:

I was up sharp. I had been informed that a man called “Murdo Fraser” would be making me a dog’s breakfast – and what’s a camping holiday without a treat as the sun rises? I trotted off alongside my owner, with a 20-minute journey to the venue. We reached it at 9am. Only two humans were there.

It quickly emerged I had got the wrong end of the stick, anyway. “Alister Jack” was the man delivering, saying that the UK is “one of the biggest aid donors to Russia”.

READ MORE: Boris Johnson compares fighting war in Ukraine to voting for Brexit

I was scared we’d get kicked out when they found out who was responsible for the growling dog. It was just my stomach! If they’d only fed me, I wouldn’t have had to drool over those electronics. And yet I got the blame when “Douglas Ross’s autocue” kept repeating some quote about the SNP’s obsession with independence.

This staycation was in serious danger of disappointing. I was ready to leave faster than a Rishi Sunak speech. (Him, I do know. I have a WhatsApp with Larry the Downing Street cat.)

I needn’t have worried. I had barely made it off the beach and the speeches were already over. We were back in the main hall and my owner was making me proud. He was chasing people down, clearly inspired by my own antics, asking them questions that I couldn’t understand – but they didn’t seem to get them either, since they usually put their hand up after the first line and walked away.

(Except a "David Duguid". He stayed. The clue is in the name, and the proof is on The National’s Facebook page.)

Still, the lingering disappointment in my eyes must have been easily noticed. I was told I looked like the Tory press office when they hear The National has another story on a Conservative local election candidate.

I was taken back to my beach camp and, finally, served some substance.