I’m reading Live and Let Die at the moment. I bought the first three James Bond novels over Christmas and recently sped through the marvellous Casino Royale with glee. If one excuses or ignores the hard yards of political incorrectness that permeate the paragraphs then there are plenty of soaring scrapes and thrilling japes to enjoy hungrily. Fleming’s stories are quite different from the films I’d suggest. Bond seems colder, heartless even, on the page and, without the cinematic need for explosive set-pieces to keep the movie lover interested, more room is available for really beautifully phrased descriptive passages. I particularly look forward to any Bond mealtime; each course is depicted so thoroughly that the lucky reader is almost able to taste every mouthful.
My favoured rugby club,