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Having just returned home after a month away, I’m reading all my mail. You know, the old-fashioned sort that doesn’t follow you around the globe. One letter is a cheery note from my insurance company telling me that my home and contents aren’t insured against the consequences of (a) war, or (b) terrorism. This doesn’t bother me nearly so much as the fact that they felt the need to write and tell me….

© Copyright Quentin Stafford-Fraser