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Under the midday sun, on a lane in Pomerol, two men are locked in a frenetic waltz that might also be a fight.
One Monday night this spring I found myself gazing over the shoulders of the potter and author Edmund de Waal and Rachel Johnson, editor of The Lady, as we listened, rapt, to Baroness Susan Greenfield’s
Sting and I live in New York most of the time but in an ideal world I’d