There is a book that casts a long and twisted shadow over my various interests, hobbies and activities.
It is a 500-odd pages hardback tome, wrapped in a pink dust jacket, and it’s called Pleasure of Ruins, by Rose Macaulay.
It was originally published in 1953 but my copy is an integral reprint by Thames and Hudson.
I believe other abridged editions exist.
Rosa Macaulay was a prolific novelist, a woman of learning, daughter of a famous Classical scholar.
From her bio on Wikipedia I find she was related on her mother’s side with the Conybeare family – and Conybeare is a well-known name to me, as one of Macaulay’s close relations was a well-respected (if somewhat sarcastic) paleontologist.
Karavansara 