The twilight hour before bedtime which any sensible boy hopes will never arrive is the high point of his day, and young Vasily, who will be two next month, is no exception. We watch music videos – more or less the same playlist night after night after night – while I smoke my Toscano and savor my brandy, if there is any. The miracle is that I never get tired of these musical selections, whereof by now I know every darn word by heart, and anyone who has ever experienced a true miracle wants the world to hear about it.

Some years ago, I recall, a great deal of postprandial talk in England revolved around the term “nanny state.”  This did not come from libertarians, anarchists, or some other political fringe, but was very much a mainstream Tory gripe. The state meddles, they complained as they passed the port to the left, it interferes and stifles.