In his final years he [John Ogdon] gave an interview to an American journalist who noticed that “his handshake is a boneless fadeaway. His response to a lengthy anecdote from a close friend is likely to range from a non-committal ‘Mmmmmmm’ to a rare ‘Very interesting’.”

I named him Cason; it was my grandfather's middle name and the second that he was born, I could see that it suited him.

While the latter was being sung, we were told how our neighbor had a falling out with her mother just before her husband died, and how the mother aforesaid would not attend the said husband’s funeral; but, subsequently, the mother met this afflicted daughter somewhere on the highway, and seeing her child dressed in deep mourning, the unnatural parent called at a milliner’s store, where both parties traded, and remarked to the shop-keeperess that she had just seen her daughter, and that she looked sad.

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