Arabella Pike, my long-term editor at HarperCollins, suggested that I write this memoir of my early years. Without her generous invitation this book would have remained unwritten. As so often, Heather Godwin read and improved my first version; if a few feeble jokes fell to her perceptive axe it was in a just cause. My wife Jackie once again tolerated the selective amnesia of the writer at work. My gratitude to all three is beyond measure.
For details of my story I tested the memory of my sister, Kath, and now I can apologise for what she endured at the hands of her older brother. My old geological friend David Bruton kept diaries when I failed to do so, and generously allowed me to quote from his record of our adventures in Spitsbergen. My father’s early years were elusive, but I discovered what an outstanding sportsman he was by contacting Worcester Royal Grammar School; the school secretary Joanna Weaver provided much evidence of his prowess as recorded in old numbers of the school magazine. This was most helpful. My father’s fishing achievements were equally remarkable, and I must record my gratitude to Peter Hadwin of the Watford Piscators for looking into records from the River Gade. It seems my father’s trout record may still stand. My old school, Ealing Grammar School for Boys, no longer exists, but the old Ealonians do, for which I am thankful. I reproduce herein a sketch of Forge Cottage drawn by one of my school contemporaries, and I wish I could be precise about its attribution. Two of my schoolmasters – John Railton and K. E. Williams – have earned my thanks for significantly shaping my life. Both of them are no longer alive, but that does not diminish the gratitude they deserve. Friends from my schooldays, Bob Bunker and Robert Gibbs, have recalled the curious world of the grammar school, and stimulated my own recollections. From my university days, Victor Gray and Michael Welland prompted memories of my time as a young dog, and I am saddened that Michael died before he was able to read my stories. Clive Wilmer helped revive my young poetical self.
Rob Francis provided the photographs for this book, and I am indebted to his skill as a photographer. Jackie Fortey and David Milner trawled the manuscript for the errors that passed unnoticed by the writer. I never kept diaries, so despite my best efforts there will be errors in my account of distant decades. I admit full responsibility for any such shortcomings.