The first rough draft of history
There has been a lot of work chat these past few months. You know, not so much about a particular project, challenge or journalistic assignment, just more generally about direction, horizons and opportunities post-Covid. I found myself desperately trying to be present with my partner and two daughters, yet my mind and thus the conversation would, like rainwater on a cambered road, run back endlessly to the subject. Even when I was with friends, relaxing on the August bank holiday, it dominated my thoughts; sometimes, however, I found, such shop talk served as a helpful reminder of where I’d come from. Travelling at speed in a Land Rover Defender in Hampshire – five adults, eight children and three dogs (two pug tzus plus a Rhodesian ridgeback) crammed in like human Haribo…