HIGH summer. The air is thick and dreamy. Looking down the long ride between the trees to the Royal Ballet School, the white Georgian building itself seemed to dance in the heat. Two female figures walking up the hill towards us emerged distinct from the haze, one wearing a sun-bonnet, the other with a wicker basket on her arm. ‘Pride and Prejudice!’ my daughter, Freda, and I said to each other in the same instant.
There arose in me an atavistic lust, the primitive hunter inside the modern human
A measure of the success of any
