One of the finest Shakespearean productions I recall was the Rustaveli Company’s Richard III at the Edinburgh Festival. It was played in Georgian and I didn’t understand a word. Memories of a visit to Tbilisi and to a village in the mountains beyond the city where, at the dinner after a poetry festival, one of my companions was admiringly presented with a portrait of Stalin – local boy made good – kindled my appreciation. Georgian history offered parallels to England’s Wars of the Roses. Richard III made excellent sense in Tbilisi.