My father was very proud of the ‘Green Toy Car’ which his grandfather gave him when he was young.  Every time we sat round the table for lunch he would

I live in Oxford and I am a book collector. Once a month I go for book shopping to London, in Cecil Court, a street packed with twenty-odd secondhand bookshops and antiquarian booksellers

I was a problematic child, my parents said. They were dragging me from doctors to psychologists, to specialists on autism, to clinics for all kinds of tests, abroad to psychiatrists, but