Petronella Wyatt

My father was the best of England 

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issue 20 July 2024

I always think of my father at this time of year. In particular, I go back to the summer of 1997 – the year he died and the year the England he knew died as well.

You went to bed in the confidence that tomorrow could only bring the same happiness as today

We always spent July and August at his house in Italy, with gardens that tumbled down to the sea.

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