I'm now an agnostic but I grew up on the King James version, which I'm eternally grateful for.

And in another year everything will be different yet again. It is always like that, and always will be; you are forever standing on the brink, in a place where you cannot see ahead; there is nothing of which to be certain except what lies behind. This should be terrifying, but somehow it is not.

In old age, you realise that while you're divided from your youth by decades, you can close your eyes and summon it at will. As a writer it puts one at a distinct advantage.

I didn't write anything until I was well over 30.

Grief-stricken. Stricken is right; it is as though you had been felled. Knocked to the ground; pitched out of life and into something else.

There's a fearful term that's in fashion at the moment - closure. People apparently believe it is desirable and attainable.

I rather like getting away from fiction.