In Kew Gardens Start at the pagoda, as good a place as any – there must be a beginning somehow. The garden is peopled with trees in gregarious knots shadowing the land, neighbourly and kind.   Past the Japanese gateway, that’s not for now. Travel grass paths to bluebells: their illiterate heads, empty of clappers, are bowed in the shade.   There is my father, … Continue reading ‘In Kew Gardens’ by Angela Topping