Earlier this week I read a fascinating article about Ian Fleming’s wartime mistress Maud Russell, a fashionable society hostess, who was seventeen years his senior. The bulk of the article is made up of excerpts from her personal diary, which was written during WW II; and one of the things that struck a chord with me is how often she mentions that Fleming is tired. At the time Fleming worked for the Admiralty in the Intelligence Corp, was involved in a multitude of meetings with top-rank officials and undoubtedly feeling the pressures of war. Russell writes of Fleming, ‘He is...
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