Thou ſhalt be leader of this thouſand horſe, Whoſe foming galle with rage and high diſdaine, Haue ſworne the death of wicked Tamburlaine.

‘And whadda you want?’ the barman spat at me. Above his head was a large sign that read ‘Fertilize the Bush – Doze in a Greenie’. I was dressed in a flannelette shirt and army trousers – exactly like the Greenie protestors they′d been battling the previous year.

The boy became volubly friendly and bubbling over with unexpected humour and high spirits. He tried to persuade Cicely to stay away from the ball-room for a fourth dance. Nobody would miss them, he explained.

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