Saturday evening in Durham. My in-laws and I had just begun our usual postprandial shout about Donald Trump when my niece appeared at the door, pale and serious. ‘There’s been another terrorist attack in London,’ she said. ‘I’m scared.’
The veins of the men in my husband’s family run with a sort of event-activated coolant.
Already a subscriber? Log in
Get 10 issues
for $10
Subscribe to The Spectator Australia today for the next 10 magazine issues, plus full online access, for just $10.
- Delivery of the weekly magazine
- Unlimited access to spectator.com.au and app
- Spectator podcasts and newsletters
- Full access to spectator.co.uk
Or
Unlock this article
You might disagree with half of it, but you’ll enjoy reading all of it. Try your first month for free, then just $2 a week for the remainder of your first year.
Comments
Don't miss out
Join the conversation with other Spectator Australia readers. Subscribe to leave a comment.
SUBSCRIBEAlready a subscriber? Log in