BY NICHOLAS FOULKES
THE CURATED LIFE
“IN THE SPRING a young man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love,” wrote Alfred Lord Tennyson in 1835. Now that I am a middle-aged man, however, I find that when the bluebells hover like a cobalt mist inches above the woodland floor and the daffodils inspire one’s inner Lake poet, my fancy wanders in the direction of a new pair of sunglasses rather than fresh romantic complications.