We had a literary festival in Walthamstow, so every one joined in, the literate, semi literate, and the completely befuddled. I considered a couple of Hiku or dashing off a poem, but settled on a novel.

There is an irony here. I got the book in Oxfam, I thought it a pretty cover, in the process of gluing up the pages I became fascinated buy the book and author. It is a grand piece of satirical nonsense by the then author of Punch and worth a few bob, a few bob more than the sculpture.