The Distant Joke
I first heard it from a man who did not know he was telling it.It was in the reading room of the Bodleian, that great stone throat of a building that swallows sunlight and breathes it back as dust and footnotes. I had come to consult a parcel of nineteenth-century surveyor's maps — Ordnance Survey sheets, quarter-inch to the mile, showing Oxford as a grid of rational lines before the motorways...
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