said one of my friends of another.
This weekend I went to the Wellcome Collection and stretched my brain on the question of why any man would wish to own a large collection of torture implements.
I suppose if my wife had an affair with Somerset Maugham, I’d feel threatened too.
I mean, sources indicate they possessed different interests, but I think it was his stubborn refusal to alter his ludicrous beard.
Talking of possession, I have finished the Byatt novel of the same name and am at an absolute loss as to what to read next. I almost threw it under the tube a few times but at the end was extraordinarily enamoured. I felt bereft.
Suggestions on a long-hidden love letter.