Today’s dispatch? The letters of George Lyttelton and Rupert Hart-Davis, two names that might as well be scrawled on the back of a dusty pub coaster for all the recognition they get in our lobotomized age.
Lyttelton’s name flickered faintly in my mind, like a half-remembered tavern sign, but I hadn’t a clue why anyone would bother printing his private s…
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