Not a huge amount of work getting done in this parish at the moment, for understandable reasons, but I have managed a piece of journalism which you can find here.

The Spectator has a special place in my heart. I met my husband on a blind date and, checking him out from a distance before I committed myself to having lunch with him, I noticed that he was sitting with a glass of wine and reading The Spectator, while he waited for me to show up. This signalled to me that he was a discerning reader and definitely worth at least an hour of my life. The rest, as they say, is history.

I’m only sorry that by the time I started writing for his favourite magazine, he was beyond knowing or understanding. He’d have been like a dog with two tails.

1 Comment

  1. Elizabeth Tyrrell on June 8, 2020 at 3:11 pm

    I thought your eulogy in the Spectator was quite lovely. If you felt blessed by being married to him, he must surely have felt the same for you.

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