Shepherd
…and his flock
Claire with Father Woodstock
One of the many fine memories of our tour: my treasured friend Dudley overlooking his acres. Our first long talks at Cambridge, now more than 50 years ago, have continued unfailingly over the years. How long has he been looking out over Abberton reservoir – is it 40 years? Close to that. Before and since his Abbertonian tenure (for a few years, at the end of the ’60s, I was his colleague at the University of Essex, thanks to his good offices) we’ve debated everything under the sun, through youth and middle age and now into advancing age. As with my oldest friend, Steve – it’ll soon be 60 years we’ve been hashing over the lives of the head and the heart, a little calmer these days, and is it wiser, or simply more rueful? – what a singular privilege to have known such loyal and deep-thinking companions of an entire life!
Next photo features Claire and a quasi-legendary ancient, Father Woodstock, largely addressed now as Grandfather Woodstock, a colorful fellow who blesses the town from a small eminence – bench or stool – with arm tirelessly raised. As Bishop of Woodstock I revere him.
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