It's good to know our politicians are keen not to waste taxpayers' time – well, not this one's, and not today– so getting down to business suits me fine. We're sitting at a table in Constance's modest office in the Scottish Parliament, with a press officer. Presumably he's there to make sure the Minister for Youth Employment doesn't say anything stupid – not that he need worry. Every word seems considered.
Constance learned a lesson in February when, on the same day 300 young people marched to the Scottish Parliament protesting at levels of youth unemployment and just days after cuts were announced at careers agency Skills Development Scotland, she was criticised for calling the issue "endemic".
"I can't win," she says. "People either think I'm seeing the world through rose-tinted glasses or I'm being overly negative. One of the things I have to learn in politics is that people analyse every word you utter."
Today, she is wearing a bright yellow prom-style dress and leopard-print wedges. At the risk of stereotyping the sartorial style of women in government (an assessment that does not apply to male politicians) Constance isn't dressed like a politician.
And when the MSP for Almond Valley says things like: "I have the great privilege of representing the constituency I hail from" in that smooth politician's voice, she seems to mean it.
Constance, 41, was born and raised in West Lothian – the eldest of five – and despite not coming from a political family, she says she's been interested in politics since she was in primary four.
"The 1979 failed referendum marked me out as a Nationalist," she grins. "I instinctively felt Scotland was a nation and that we should be running our own affairs."
Her mouth slips easily into smiles but Constance is guarded in a way that could be interpreted as frosty. I suspect she's nervous. Despite being thrust into her new, high-profile role in December – at a time when the economy is bleaker than a dull day in Mordor – Constance hasn't given many interviews. And she certainly seems more at ease talking about her politics than her personal life, a fact confirmed later when the birth of her four-year-old son, Cyrus – a picture of whom hangs proudly on her wall – comes up in conversation.
It would be hard to discuss her life without mentioning him. Constance was 17 weeks pregnant when she was first elected to the Scottish Parliament in 2007. Emotions must have been high.
"It was interesting because, as an expectant mother, your first priority is your unborn child and, in many ways, that helps you keep a lid on your emotions. I had this lifelong ambition to represent the area I grew up in, but this was my first child and that was my priority."
Any mixed feelings about dealing with parenthood at the exact moment her lifelong ambition came true? "Well, they're both lifelong dreams," she corrects. But simultaneously? "I suppose it's fatalistic," she replies. "But I felt positive. The fact I was having this long-awaited child at the age of 37, I felt the omen was good for winning the election too, so I was remarkably calm throughout the whole thing – even at the count."
When I ask why her son was "long awaited", Constance is tight-lipped. "There are issues there," she admits. "Privately, it's something I'm comfortable talking about. I'm very proud of the fact I have my son, proud of the circumstances in which I had my son – they weren't easy – but I'm not going to say more than that."
However, ask about her work tackling youth unemployment and Constance, on cue, springs into dialogue. Youth unemployment in Scotland for January to March is down on the previous quarter, at 94,000 compared to 102,000, but it remains up on this quarter last year. So what's being done? Like a well-rehearsed politician, she trots out the various Government initiatives and speaks of policies, stats and targets. But how does she feel she's done?
"Well, erm, needless to say, it's a challenging portfolio ..." she begins. "Everybody knows the current economic climate is difficult – I'm not under any illusions that there is a massive job to do. It fires me up all the more for the need for a Scottish Parliament with full economic powers."
Is she building to an excuse – and one that plays into her politics? Maybe. But some could argue it's a valid point. "The frustration," she emphasises, "is we need a Parliament with job-creating powers, so in that sense I feel I'm being held back."
Constance cites this lack of power no less than four times in the course of discussing the topic, but insists she's hit the ground running in her ministerial role. "Nobody's saying it's easy for any government, but at least with full economic powers you have a fighting chance. But there is always more to do and I look forward to climbing the hill."
Is it one that's too big for her? "You can never feel that," she replies. "I won't subscribe to the politics of despair – that just gets you nowhere."
Constance is convincing in her passion for the issue, citing her youth under Margaret Thatcher's Britain when unemployment was rife. "Growing up in a mining village [Addiewell, West Calder] shapes your outlook and my dad was one of those statistics. Tackling unemployment is more than a political commitment for me, it's a personal one."
Constance knew early on she wanted to be in politics. A self-confessed "goal-setter", she was president of the Students' Representative Council at Glasgow University and ran in her first local council election at 21. She lost, but was elected in 1997, the same year she became a social worker. She then spent 10 years juggling her career with being a local councillor before taking on motherhood and Parliament.
It's corny, she admits, but her motivation comes from wanting to make the world a better place. "You have a more acute sense of responsibility as a parent. I'm a mother before I'm an MSP and a Minister." She recalls coming into vote when her son was only 10 days old. "Breastfeeding at stage three legislation was a challenge," she laughs.
It's a cliché asking women how they balance career and family but I can't help but wonder how Constance juggles both, and how she feels about being asked?
"It's difficult because, irrespective of how you answer, you're inevitably judged by it. I'm not different from any other working mother. Mornings tend to be pandemonium – and I only have one child. I'm fortunate my husband [Garry] is self-employed, so he has a bit of flexibility. And you just have to plan."
Constance exemplifies the multi-tasking woman. This, perhaps more than anything, is why she shouldn't be written off. Even if some critics feel she hasn't risen to the challenge of her new role, there's a steely determination that makes me think she's too proud to fail.
When, in 2005, she lost a by-election, the knock made her more determined to win in 2007. "I thought, 'I'm a good parliamentary candidate; I can do this'. It was a very instructive low."
It's an ambitious nature, matched only be her passion for Scotland. "In the way that I know what's best for my child and family – and would defy anyone to tell me otherwise – I feel the same for Scotland as a nation."
She's optimistic about the independence referendum and cites how far the SNP has come since she was chapping doors for the party years ago. "When I joined the SNP at 18 after seeing a political party broadcast, there wasn't even a Scottish Parliament."
She believes it's not just the SNP that need to attract more women, but politics in general. "It's on politicians like me to demonstrate and tell women that we need them to be involved."
But she doesn't consider herself a role model. "Coming from a working-class background, you have to remind yourself you're as good as anybody else. I can be my own worst enemy. I tend to ruminate on things I could have done better or said better and over-analyse my own performances."
She admits everybody has a public face but says: "Ultimately, you have to be yourself. You can pretend to be someone you're not but you'll be found out."
Angela Constance Minister for Youth Employment
We're sitting at a table in Constance's modest office in the Scottish Parliament, with a press officer. Presumably he's there to make sure the Minister for Youth Employment doesn't say anything stupid – not that he need worry. Every word seems considered.
Constance learnt a lesson in February when, on the same day 300 young people marched to the Scottish Parliament protesting at levels of youth unemployment and just days after cuts were announced at careers agency Skills Development Scotland, she was criticised for calling the issue "endemic".
"I can't win," she says. "People either think I'm seeing the world through rose-tinted glasses or I'm being overly negative. One of the things I have to learn in politics is that people analyse every word you utter."
Today, she is wearing a bright yellow prom-style dress and leopard-print wedges. At the risk of stereotyping the sartorial style of women in government – of which many, unlike their male colleagues, are judged on – Constance isn't dressed like a politician.
And when the MSP for Almond Valley says things like "I have the great privilege of representing the constituency I hail from" in that smooth politician's voice, she seems to mean it.
Constance, 41, was born and raised in West Lothian – the eldest of five – and despite not coming from a political family, says she's been interested in politics since she was in primary four.
"The 1979 failed referendum marked me out as a nationalist," she grins. "I instinctively felt Scotland was a nation and that we should be running our own affairs."
Her mouth, covered in bright red lipstick, slips easily into smiles but Constance is guarded in a way that could be interpreted as frosty. I suspect she's nervous. Despite being thrust into her new, high-profile role in December – at a time when the economy is bleaker than a dull day in Mordor – Constance hasn't given many interviews. And she certainly seems more at ease talking about her politics than her personal life, a fact confirmed later when the birth of her four-year-old son, Cyrus – a picture of whom hangs proudly on her wall – comes up in conversation.
It would be hard to discuss her life without mentioning him. Constance was 17 weeks pregnant when she was first elected to parliament in 2007. Emotions must have been high.
"It was interesting because, as an expectant mother, your first priority is your unborn child and, in many ways, that helps you keep a lid on your emotions. I had this lifelong ambition to represent the area I grew up in, but this was my first child and that was my priority."
Any mixed feelings about dealing with parenthood at the exact moment her lifelong ambition came true? "Well, they're both lifelong dreams," she corrects. But simultaneously, I press? "I suppose it's fatalistic," she replies. "But I felt positive. The fact I was having this long-awaited child at the age of 37, I felt the omen was good for winning the election too, so I was remarkably calm throughout the whole thing – even at the count."
When I ask why her son was "long awaited", Constance is tight-lipped. "There are issues there," she admits. "Privately, it's something I'm comfortable talking about. I'm very proud of the fact I have my son, proud of the circumstances in which I had my son – they weren't easy – but I'm not going to say more than that."
However, ask about her work tackling youth unemployment and Constance, on cue, springs into dialogue. Youth unemployment in Scotland for January to March is down on the previous quarter, at 94,000 compared to 102,000, but it remains up on this quarter last year. So what's being done? Like a well-rehearsed politician, she trots out the various government initiatives and speaks of policies, stats and targets. But how does she feel she's done?
"Well, erm, needless to say, it's a challenging portfolio..." she begins. "Everybody knows the current economic climate is difficult – I'm not under any illusions that there is a massive job to do. It fires me up all the more for the need for a Scottish Parliament with full economic powers."
Is she building to an excuse – and one that plays into her politics? Maybe. But some could argue it's a valid point. "The frustration..." she emphasises, "is we need a parliament with job-creating powers, so in that sense I feel I'm being held back."
Constance sites this lack of power no less than four times in the course of discussing the topic, but insists she's hit the ground running in her ministerial role. "Nobody's saying it's easy for any government, but at least with full economic powers you have a fighting chance. But there is always more to do and I look forward to climbing the hill."
Is it one that's too big for her? "You can never feel that," she replies. "I won't subscribe to the politics of despair – that just gets you nowhere."
Constance is convincing in her passion for the issue, citing her youth under Margaret Thatcher's Britain, when unemployment was rife. "Growing up in a mining village [Addiewell, West Calder] shapes your outlook and my dad was one of those statistics. Tackling unemployment is more than a political commitment for me, it's a personal one."
Constance knew early on she wanted to be in politics. A self-confessed "goal-setter", she was president of the Students' Representative Council at Glasgow University and ran in her first local council election at 21. She lost, but was elected in 1997, the same year she became a social worker. She then spent ten years juggling her career with being a local councillor before taking on motherhood and parliament.
It's corny, she admits, but her motivation comes from wanting to make the world a better place. "You have a more acute sense of responsibility as a parent. I'm a mother before I'm an MSP and a Minister." She recalls coming into vote when her son was only ten days old. "And breastfeeding at stage three legislation was a bit of a challenge," she laughs.
It's a cliché asking women how they balance career and family but I can't help but wonder how Constance does juggle both, and how she feels about being asked?
"It's difficult because, irrespective of how you answer, you're inevitably judged by it. I'm not different from any other working mother. Mornings tend to be pandemonium – and I only have one child. I'm fortunate my husband [Garry] is self-employed, so he has a bit of flexibility. And you just have to plan."
Constance exemplifies the multi-tasking woman. This, perhaps more than anything, is why she shouldn't be written off. Even if some critics feel she hasn't risen to the challenge of her new role, there's a steely determination that makes me think she's too proud to fail.
When, in 2005, she lost a by-election, the knock made her more determined to win in 2007. "I thought, 'I'm a good parliamentary candidate; I can do this'. It was a very instructive low."
It's an ambitious nature, matched only be her passion for Scotland. "In the way that I know what's best for my child and family – and would defy anyone to tell me otherwise – I feel the same for Scotland as a nation."
She's optimistic about the independence referendum and cites how far the SNP has come since she was chapping doors for the party years ago. "When I joined the SNP at 18," – after seeing a political party broadcast," she admits almost sheepishly, "there wasn't even a Scottish parliament."
She believes it's not just the SNP that need to attract more women, but politics in general. "It's on politicians like me to demonstrate and tell women that we need them to be involved."
But she doesn't consider herself a role model. "Coming from a working class background, you have to remind yourself you're as good as anybody else. I can be my own worst enemy. I tend to ruminate on things I could have done better or said better and over-analyse my own performances."
She admits everybody has a public face, but says: "Ultimately, you have to be yourself. You can pretend to be someone you're not but you'll be found out."
