A few weeks ago, on a perfect autumn day, I took the train to Cambridge and cycled a rambling, rolling 84 miles home to London. I know what you’re thinking. Well, it represented some solid exercise and I had coffee with my friend Robert, whom I seldom see. And, as is ever the way, it …
When I was writing this, a friend came to visit with the news of a death. It was shocking and unexpected and it stopped me in my tracks. Coming back to my desk to think about books, I picked up John Drury’s beautiful and moving biography of the poet and Anglican priest, George Herbert. I …