inspiring him to relive his youth, make himself a net and join in, setting them on a jagged bit of driftwood. Soon we found that the collector was a schizophrenic looked after by his long-suffering wife.

The time came for Peter to start school – but there had been two cases of infantile paralysis in Lee Park, so Lynne and I stayed on with the two little girls. It seemed silly to take them back into danger.

So I missed a fantastic party given by Cedric Dover in an Indian restaurant. He had been offered a permanent job in the USA, a lectureship in race relations, and was taking his female partner. After a long, delicious meal he took his friends back to the flat and started to pack, taking all night. What he couldn’t pack he gave to his guests and left for America at seven o’clock in the morning.

I did go to London to see Peter for one night, leaving Lynne in charge in Dorset and taking his driftwood set butterflies with me. The train was very crowded so I had to stand clutching the four foot flotsam and calling “mind the butterflies” when anyone got up to leave or have a fag in the corridor. Peter was pleased to see them and me, and we had a very pleasurable re-union.

As I ran into the station next morning I called to the guard, “Is this the train to Bridport?”
“Yes, but hurry! It’s just going!”

I jumped in and settled down to read, but presently I began to sense that something was wrong.

“This is the train to Bridport?” I asked the man opposite.

“No! This is the non-stop to Newport!”

I considered pulling the communication cord but decided to keep perfectly calm and resign myself to a long day in the train – first to Newport, then back nearly to London, and finally to Bridport.

Lynne was extremely relieved to see me.