Amiable, self-deprecating but rigorous, with a famous voice that conveyed authority and trust, the journalist, presenter and writer Edward Stourton had an insatiable curiosity about the moral and spiritual underpinning to good storytelling.

“It was very good to see you last night, and it reminded me that I owe you an email. Sadly my cancer news is not good – the Marsden has pretty much run out of ideas, and I have been told I should think of my remaining time lasting for months rather than years. I am hoping to go on working for a while yet, but I am going to have to slim things down, and I feel this is the right time to resign as a trustee of The Tablet. I have been on the Trust for an alarmingly long time, but I have loved it and am hugely proud of my association with your wonderful magazine. What a privilege.”

I last bumped into Ed Stourton at a drinks party in the Archbishop of Canterbury’s garden a few weeks ago. He was wearing what looked like a new seersucker jacket. As always he was more interested in talking about The Tablet than about himself.

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