Hugh Pain

I never saw bibliophile Hugh's prized collection of first editions, but I often listened with pleasure and some envy to his stories of hunting around the second-hand bookshops of Bloomsbury for hidden gems - some extraordinarily arcane - which he would snap up for a couple of pounds to sell later for a couple of hundred. Hugh clearly loved his books, could turn his hand to repairs and restoration, and went to great lengths to protect his treasures. I recall him chuckling with glee sometimes at how he would occasionally spend more than was wise on a journalist's salary on some “must have” Thomas Hardy. In my book, Hugh's love of English literature and his antiquarian bent marked him out as a proper English gentleman of the old school, for whom I always had the highest regard. ■