I Came To London. It Had Become

In Our Island Myth This Was The Prescribed End Of Marriages Like Mine: The Wife Goes Off With Someone From The Cercle Sportif, Outside Whose Gates At Night The Willingly Betrayed Husband Waits In His Motorcar. The Circumstances Were Slightly.

Men Need History; It Helps Them To Have An Idea Of Who They Are. But History, Like Sanctity, Can Reside In The Heart; It Is Enough That There Is Something There.

I'm Thought To Be A Tough Writer, But I'm Really A Softie.

I Grew Up In A Small Place And Left It When I Was Quite Young And Entered The Bigger World.

Whatever Extra There Is In Me At Any Given Moment Isn't Fully Formed. I Am Hardly Aware Of It; It Awaits The Next Book. It Will - With Luck - Come To Me During The Actual Writing, And It Will Take Me By Surprise