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This man says to me "have a gorilla".

But I had to decline. "No thanks", I was forced to reply. "I've just put one out."

It was a lie. I gave them up years ago. I didn't want to alienate him, given that we were alone in a lifeboat in the South China Sea.

Actually, I made that up. I have never smoked them. They're too big, I find.

I prefer the flying phalanger. Lighter, and far more mellow, to boot.

If you do boot them, they really take off. It's their wrist-wings.

Sugar Glider
Mahogany Glider
Squirrel Glider
Northern Glider
Yellow-Bellied Glider
Biak Glider

There's so much choice.

Well, there was. The local tobacconist used to stock them all. Now there's only Morrisons fag counter or the Newsagent, and they respond with baleful visages if you so much as hint at a hankering for Fine Phalanger.

Back in the lifeboat, my companion smiled. "Rough Shag then?" he offered. This was getting serious. "No, sorry", I replied, trying to conceal a note of desperation. "My piles have been playing up ever since we left Shanghai I'm afraid."

A sailor's life was conducive to falsehoods, I learned, in my seafaring days.

I bet Conrad went through the same thing. Hence all those stories.

And as for Moby Dick, well, he was a giant of a man from Cape Cod, who I met on a fishing...(cont. on page 231)

You know very well this should be longer and deveoped into an article. Holidays! Hrrmph see what they do to a man.

Were you opium eating in Grasmere?

Erskin

I like how this was wonderfully lucid in all directions taken.

You will have to treat us with more of this in equal measures from time to time.

Hear! Hear! or Here! Here!

LG