State Of The Nation

Well, not the state of the nation, really, but the state of that godforsaken blot that is Mr Key’s mental bailiwick. This weekend I have mostly been poking about in the flues of Mr Key’s Shorter Potted Brief, Brief Lives, doing a final bit of dusting before I tie the manuscript to the leg of a postal pigeon and wave it away, into the blue beyond, to be deposited on the desk of my editor at Constable. With the book done, at last, I shall be able to return to full-time active service duty at Hooting Yard. Watch this space.

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