Three decades of blood and horror – just the sort of history I like

In the church just a few fields from where I live stands the handsome, painted alabaster tomb to Sir Richard Knightley and his wife Jane. Round the sides of the tomb are reliefs of their 12 children — four girls and eight boys — variously the ancestors of George Washington, the Queen and David Cameron.

But at least as impressive as Sir Richard’s dynastic achievements, in my book, are his dates — 1455 to 1534. Every time I go to see him, lying there with his SS collar (symbol of the victorious Lancastrians) round his neck and the dog (or is it a lion?) at his feet, I think, ‘You jammy bastard!’ and I fervently pray that some of that luck will rub off on me. To have lived to nearly 80 is remarkable enough in almost any distant age. To have done so as a knight during the Wars of the Roses is little short of miraculous.