Among the crinkled, scored photos laid out on the table, one remains mysterious to me. There’s no date, but it must have been early summer of that year. Alex and I are standing in front of his old Citroën on Hampstead Heath, dressed in narrow dark suits and wraparound sunglasses, looking a little like half of the Beatles. If this image doesn’t resolve easily, it might be because a few years ago I saw Alex again after all these years.
Always a pleasure to read you Tony! ❤️
I didn’t remember this from the book. And loved ‘Native States’. I’m sure I told you that years ago. Now I’m going to read it again.