Every day I write the book

Don't tell me you don't know the difference
Between a lover and a fighter
With my pen and my electric typewriter
Even in a perfect world where everyone was equal
I'd still own the film rights and be working on the sequel

And nobody writes them quite like Monsieur Costello in my book.

OK, we have a winner: Glenn Gould, Gary Cooper and Fatty Arbuckle. So, Candlemaker – it's time to reveal your true identity to claim your prize! Will the real Candlemaker please stand up.

I wrote all day, well until about 3.30pm anyway when I began to climb the walls. That turned out to be an unsatisfactory pastime as the paint got under my nails, so I went for a long walk instead, across fields and byways, footpaths and hills. Then I came home and had a nice cup of tea and a biscuit. Whey-hey! It were grand ladee.

One of the Ovaltinees arrived with Dr Zhivago in tow for aperitifs (M&A had been shopping in the Bordeaux sales). By the time M had undone all his coat buttons, toggles, zips and Velcro fastenings and got his coat off, it was time for him to put it back on again. It was enough to have given Houdini a serious panic attack. Matching collar and cuffs though, which is always a boon. We walked up to the Chinese restaurant near the train station and enjoyed a delicious of meal. Crab and asparagus soup followed by prawns and straw mushrooms for me – and plenty of rosé naturellement.

The wind got under my flaps in the night, and they banged together like nobody’s business. There I was in my jimjams at 5am, risking life and limb hanging out of the second floor window in the rain trying to get the shutters closed. Oh it all happens, I’m tellin’ ya! Never a dull moment.