I’ve just re-read online a wonderful piece by Matthew Parris that appeared in the Spectator on August 15, 2009. It’s about his father, who had died five years before but lives on, obstinately, in the memory of his son. I won’t attempt to summarise it. Suffice to say that Parris never gets through a day without some facet of his father emerging to lighten the darkness or bring him to the point of tears.

This is how it should be.