At 10pm one recent Sunday evening, Sir David Attenborough received a knock at the door of his Richmond home. It was a concerned neighbour who had just read on Twitter that the veteran broadcaster was dead.
"My daughter answered the door and the neighbour asked if it was true," the 93-year-old recounts with a devilish twinkle in his eye. "She said: 'Wait there and I'll go and ask him.' I was watching the news on television."
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During the panicked age of Covid-19, Attenborough's name is one of a number of national treasures to be bandied around social media in recent days as the latest to succumb to the virus. But when we meet in a London hotel shortly before the country started to go into lockdown, he is full of vim and vigour and comfortingly dismissive of the whole damn thing.
"We don't need to think that if you catch coronavirus you might as well jump into the grave and pull the grass over yourself," he says. "If you're old like me or if you have some respiratory problems, it's going to be quite serious - but at the same time we need to keep a sense of proportion."