He took his Cambridge finals on the carpet, too, by himself, in a room where I was his personal invigilator. Having started him off, I slipped out to the pub for half an hour, only to find myself the target of his wrath at the end of the exam for the gross insensitivity of choosing a pub where the two of us normally drank together.
Charles was erudite, combative, searingly truthful and endlessly kind. Though he was in almost constant pain, he disdained, for the most part, to mention the fact. He died as he had lived: bravely, selflessly, realistically.
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Published on October 29, 2006 16:03