It’s raining, and Jonathan Self is outside waiting patiently for his dogs to do their business.
Here I am standing in our home field getting soaked yet again. I am wearing pyjamas, wellies and the first hat I grabbed as I came out, my Great-Uncle Martin’s giant pith helmet, a sort of wearable umbrella, if a shameful reminder of my family’s colonial past. Cosmo, our bichon frisé, and Elsa, our blue whippet, are doing their best to squeeze themselves between my legs…
