I’ve just had a wonderfully Kafkaesque moment. I walked a computer down to the High Street to get it fixed and entered the great rambling halls of Pelham House, where Stephanie and I had our wedding reception almost twenty years ago. I got lost in the maze of corridors and then found myself standing in front of a door which had a simple brass plate that read
Institute of Not-Knowing
I paused as if faced with a Zen koan and then knocked . . .
No-one opened the door.
I returned through the maze coming at last to the office of the computer fixers. I asked them about INK.
They didn’t know it existed.
Maybe it led to a broom cupboard…but just maybe it’s the place we’ve all been looking for!
I don’t know.