I Am Never At My Best In

I Will Write Another Book If I Feel Like It.

I Became A Connoisseur Of That Nasty Thud A Manuscript Makes When It Comes Through The Letter Box.

Over The Years I Knew Her She Always Looked At Me Like That - As Though I Was A Quite Pleasant But Amusing Object - And It Always Did The Same Thing To Me. It's Difficult To Put Into Words But Perhaps I Can Best Describe It By Saying That If I Had Been A Little Dog I'd Have Gone Leaping And Gambolling Around The Room Wagging My Tail Furiously.

And The Peace Which I Always Found In The Silence And Emptiness Of The Moors Filled Me Utterly

It Was Sunday Morning (one A.m.), A Not Unusual Time For Some Farmers, After A Late Saturday Night, To Have A Look Round Their Stock And Decide To Send For The Vet.