Rob Perkins came into my life by way of Daphne Astor, who he had known somehow in Boston; but then Daphne knew everyone. It turned out later that he had overstayed his welcome in Cambridgeshire, so Daphne had recommended he come and visit us.

I think his father had been a banker in Boston, he had gone to private school, then Harvard, but had some kind of breakdown and turned into a filmmaker and adventurer. He lived partly in Zion National Park and partly in Lamu on the coast of West Africa. He followed my blog and I would occasionally get messages about posts. Then, I just heard that he had died quite a while ago and, of course, I didn’t know. You don’t get an email from someone who is dead.