I have been asked, very kindly, if I have any writing on the subject of fun to contribute to an internet page. I can't tell you how stymied I was when I read the email. How could I possibly write about fun? What, after all, did I really enjoy?

When I think about it, though, there are a few things I enjoy. I enjoy being with my girlfriend. I enjoy being with my friends. I enjoyed it when we were all walking arm-in-arm across the Racecourse after closing time the other weekend, drunk and shouting songs we'd made up into the cold midnight air. I love having a cat sit on my lap paddling until it's ready to sit down and sleep. I like it when it rains. I love eating a peanut butter sandwich on the first slice of fresh bread from a new loaf. I love reading Chinese and Japanese poetry and feeling through them the majesty and peace of old mountains and rivers...their old wisdom that applies still today.

So maybe I'm not as miserable as I first thought when I opened that email. Maybe I will try to put something together this weekend. Although as soon as I write anything formally these days my inspiration seems to vanish like a dubious rumour.