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‘It doesn’t feel like we’re in England. It feels like we’re in France or something.’

No idea why France in particular except, perhaps, that my memories of that country shimmer with light and heat, and the sun was beating down that day.

Such days, in an English summer, are still rare and may be that, to my mind, made the place suitably ‘other’?

How habitual it is to rationalise.

Almost second nature, as if one nature were not more than enough!

We were in Glastonbury for a symposium, a weekend of alternative lectures and radical thinking…

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