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“It is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples, extracted from many objects, and indeed the sundry contemplation of my travels, which, by often rumination, wraps me in the most humorous sadness” (As You Like It)

As a devoted husband I have to keep Joan happy, and that is why you’re reading what I’ve written. You see, Joan cannot abide me slobbing about, as she calls it. In fact the old trout, so to speak, has recently been in danger of turning into quite an old carp, or nag even, ha, ha, on the vexed subject of me being more productive, having a project or something. On the bright side, she probably thinks at least it’ll help keep me alive. Anyway, I’m banking on a weekly effort to keep the peace.

Whatever you think, you have Joan to thank, and so, much, much more than you, do I.

My huge thanks are also due to Anita, our dear friend and neighbour, who suggested the perfect quotation above, and has been a most helpful, witty and encouraging editrice of my fumbling attempts. Ben, her husband, has given me much encouragement too. My thanks I give to both.