“You have a very large parcel”, Zeinab, my secretary said breathlessly as she struggled up from the post room with a copy of this enormous book. It seemed all the heavier as I lugged it around the London bus network from the wilds of East Acton on my way home and then back to work several times. Contained in a reinforced Harrod’s bag, which was the only thing I could find that was strong enough to hold it while I elbowed my way through the myriads of commuters that were forced to travel by bus in lieu of the non-existent Central line, I felt my back pain had returned with a vengeance and did not know whether to take up weight training (where the book would come in handy) or admit defeat and …