To Edinburgh yesterday, for the funeral of John Davidson, an old friend going back to early Aberystwyth days, who died far too young. The funeral was done with great aptness to the man. The poet Jeffrey Wainwright read ‘Stoic’, which he had written some ten years since for and about John. “The brook’s lullaby” from Die Schöne Müllerin to conclude (for John found endless solace in Schubert’s songs). Then later glasses were raised at The Scotch Malt Whisky Society members’ rooms in Leith, and old acquaintances seen whom I suppose we are not likely to come across again with a last link gone. A hard day.

And on getting back to Cambridge I was shocked and saddened to hear of the sudden and quite unexpected death of Peter Lipton here.

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