The oddness of Carles Puigdemont’s life is apparent as soon as I arrive at our meeting place, a comfortable, anonymous flat in Berlin. Four silent minders – two police bodyguards and two supporters, all from Catalonia – usher me into a room.

These are his “people”. He maintains he is followed by the Spanish secret service. He still feels shaken from discovering a tracking device fitted to the Renault Espace he’d been travelling in and claims that the Spanish media is infested with government spies. Puigdemont now communicates via encrypted networks.

I was therefore expecting a long wait, or a last-minute cancellation, a body search and, eventually, a big entrance. Jordi Pujol, the president of Catalonia from 1980 to 2003, insisted that journalists stood for