Dear Reader Yesterday I picked up the book I’d given you for your birthday, your last birthday as it turned out to be, and found where you had marked your place. You hadn’t got far with Noel Coward’s letters but knowing you I know you tried, in spite of being unwell because it was my gift.   Dear reader, how you marked your place in my life––and other lives, warmed by your kindness and courtesy. I loved the way you went about your reading, full of purpose, serious, planfully, tackling ancient history and the bible, following your favourite mountaineers, Antarctic…