I had read this before but asked D for it for my birthday last year.
Enjoyed it less 2nd time round; Robinson seems a bit mannered (not sure that is the right word) when not writing about Banks. The quality of all the food, drink, etc, in this book, is impeccably middle class, all from John Lewis.
But, it is a very good story about a guy who comes back to his native Yorkshire when his partner dies, buys a big house, and finds that the previous owner's wife had been hung for his murder in the early 1950s. And a hell of a good story is hung around this premise.
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