This week the FT asked some of the great and the good about how they spent their summers. Here I gate crash the party.
How are you spending the summer?
July in Quebec, September in Umbria. August in London, cycling to and swimming in the Serpentine, days out walking the South Downs and evenings going to the theatre or the proms. In between, drinks and alfresco meals in Vivien’s lovely garden.
Dr Johnson, no end of conversation and someone as grumpy as I!
Just finished the brilliant Cormac McCarthy’s “all the pretty horses”,by a delightful mistake I am rereading the sadly missed Kent Harif’s “The Tide That Binds” and I have just ordered Stanley Price’s well reviewed book on the Joyce and Svevo friendship.
When I look in the mirror I see a 25 year old thruster, when I see the photos I notice a 70 year old man. No more photos.
A bust of Mussolini made from Sicily’s Etna rock.
Two weeks in South Wales when the children were 6 and 8 and it rained everyday. There is only so much Monopoly you can play.
Galle in Sri Lanka or Arthog in North Wales.
When going to the theatre or travelling long distance the money spent on better seats is never wasted.