I let the precious loose-leaf atlas of Middle Earth drop from my hands at just the wrong moment. The fragile leather binder that held Tolkein’s hand-drawn maps fell to the floor of the railway carriage. It slid along the parquet and slipped through a hole onto the track.

TPR was furious that I had not taken better care of this relic of international lireary significance. At great personal danger, he disembarked at the next station to walk along the tracks to try and retrieve it.