The Independent - London, December 3rd, 2000
I was thinking about Malmesbury the other day. You know how it is with places you've never been. They sort of pop into your head. Sometimes it's Wenvoe, sometimes Oberammergau, if that's how you spell it. I wouldn't know. The spelling doesn't pop into your head; only the name. Like Adlestrop. The other day it was Malmesbury, and, just like that, up from the pages of my newspaper popped Bob Browning. Of Malmesbury. Malmesbury!
Well. Call it morphic resonance, call it quantum evolution, call it pop sci bollocks, there we were: me in my chair, Bob in his shed. Or garage. Whatever.
There's an ol...
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