I had planned to write this week’s instalment from Genoa, Italy, from the villa of a friend. It was to be an insightful, witty, charming essay on local Italian food and the vagaries of life there, probably involving pesto somehow.
But the Italian clampdown on Covid-19 means that my dog and I may well be trapped in the town for at least 14 days if any cases of the coronavirus were detected. So rather than risk an enforced long quarantine, the simpler option was to sip more claret at home and scribble about a recent paper I encountered by chance.
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