The Rake

Vale Sir David Tang

I was once staying in Scotland, at a pretty grand house — the kind in which a grand piano does not look out of place. Walking down the stairs to breakfast, I was greeted by the crystalline notes of what might have been Schumann (I am no expert) floating on the still morning air. It is one of those moments that sticks in the mind, a glimpse of perfection and tranquillity that demonstrates the power

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