I could have sworn that I was in my office when I read the newspaper report that triggered this book. My memory has me reading the words on the monitor on my desk, then gazing out of the window at the brickwork on the building across the road. Indeed, I cannot picture that article except on my monitor, and I cannot separate my first thoughts about it from the view of the brickwork. They are forever fused.

When I return to the article I am astonished to learn that it was pub­lished on December 31 2011, for I was on holiday then, in southwestern France, and must have read it on my laptop, sitting on a couch in front of a log fire. Of this, I have no memory at all...

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