So how do you tell your daughter, heartbroken by defeat, that there may be more important things in life than Scottish nationalism?

How do you tell her that the elusive grail of independence has driven men who have come and gone before her half mad and into early graves? That marriage and children and family and faith, if these are what she chooses, may be more fundamental to her happiness than whether this miserable and hapless and perfidious wee sod can arrange and run its own affairs? The answer is: you can't.

Not after 48 hours in which she and her new friend Sarah, the one that could probably talk Nigel Farage to a standstill, reached out to something like half of Glasgow behind a rudimentary stall on Buchanan Street, entreating and persuading their fellow citizens to vote yes for the chance of a fairer future.

Clare is inconsolable, and I try to recall if this was how I felt when Margaret Thatcher won a devastating second term in 1983 after I had spent weeks canvassing for Labour or when the miners were finally brought low by a sustained assault by the entire British establishment in 1984.

"I just can't believe it," she said on the morning after the night before in which she had no sleep and lots of talk about recrimination and deceit. "I really thought we were going to do it." And soon the words are tumbling out in a torrent of anger and frustration at having to live in a world that moves to a different rhythm than you.

"I cannot believe so many people voted against their own independence. I mean, why would you do that? The world must be laughing at us right now: the only country who refused a chance embraced by all others. But I was proud of the campaign and I was so proud of Glasgow and being Glaswegian.

"And what about Alex Salmond's speech? He is just brilliant. I was crying my heart out. Not like that Alistair Darling, all gloating and smirking.

"Dad, Labour are finished now, you can't vote for that party ever again – nobody in our family better had again. They betrayed every one of their own principles, they should all be hanging their heads in shame this morning, not celebrating," she said, echoing sentiments being espoused in tens of thousands of households all over the west of Scotland.

"Just you wait and see, you're all complacent about Ukip and the rightwing in this country. So many on the side of the rich and the powerful must have been cheering themselves hoarse about the no vote and there were Labour people, our very own, cheering and dancing with them. Well, I hope they're pleased with themselves. I don't think I would want to raise my children in a country that allowed Ukip into government, but they're already talking about it."

And then this from Sarah: "This society has become obsessed with celebrity culture and money. I honestly think that the reason why the BBC, an arm of government, puts on Strictly is to deliberately dumb down the people and reduce their critical faculties and expectations."

Perhaps politics really is important or perhaps it's just that it has become so again. Was the real significance of what has unfolded these last two years or so simply being translated into this, a young woman's litany of disappointment?

Many thousands of young people had engaged with a process that was about helping others and reaching out to their fellow citizens.

The yes campaign maintained a sense of verve, excitement and drama that was largely supplied by young Scots who had previously been left unimpressed by the normal methods of party politics.

Sure, all the old footsoldiers of nationalism did their bit, visiting houses, handing out leaflets, but there was a fresh sense of unbounded optimism; of we-can-achieve-anything, and it was this that drove them to the outskirts of victory. By contrast, more than 70% of Scotland's pensioners voted no, fearful for their pensions and their end-of-life care.

In the course of this campaign a new generation of Scottish nationalists has been conceived and born. Last word to Clare: "Dad, I will campaign for an independent Scotland for the rest of my life and so will all those other young people I've met in the last year. I'm so gutted that we couldn't do it for us, but even if I have to wait until I'm an OAP I'll do it again and this time it'll be like a gift for my children and my grandchildren."