After a long hiatus, which involved lazing around, working on a couple of projects, getting a new job, getting both horrible and fantastic results in university and at least one man-sized cat, I have returned to preach the upper middle-class word.

This is more or less me. Now to sum up my thoughts with song. The dreams living in my head. A lot of the time. I need to do something about this box of memories. I left lying on the floor. It is never too late for anything! .

2 Put it on shuffle. 5 When you go to a new question, press the next button.

An escapism occasionally fraught with danger. One night when I was five years old, we drove past a house that was on fire. The fire made the rest of the scene seem so much blacker- the only thing I could see was the fire. It was all through the house, it must have been, because it was spewing out of both the front windows, tendrils a metre and a half high. The front door was a just a rectangle through which fire glowed at the edges.

Across the river, we boarded a two day boat to Luang Prabang. As seems to always be the case, the boat was full of French people. One found my sister amusing, and grabbed my camera to photograph her. French cameramen cant resist Kathryn? The view from the breakfast table was pleasant. Enjoyed photographing a bloated corpse that floated past.