As a family man this is the case for me each and every day. I try to make the most of this wonderful opportunity because, like life in general, it will not last forever. Before I met Caroline I did have some friends outside of my family but there is just no time for such extravagances anymore. My wife Caroline is my best friend. My other best friends are my children: Harriett (9), Heidi (7) and Henry (4). They bring variety to the table of life and every day is an enriching experience of learning and discovery. I am a lucky man.
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Some are perhaps made of more stories than others, though. When thinking of friends and acquaintances who have long since passed, some stand out above others for their stories. For instance, I had the good fortune of working for an energetic and genial man called Paul Cave, who lived to be 90 years of age. In 1960 he founded Hampshire the county magazine and continued running it until he died. A force of nature, he was manager of the legendary crooner Frankie Vaughan and he employed the racing driver Stirling Moss as his first motoring correspondent. A journalist through and through he worked for the Daily Mirror and was heavily involved with the Labour Party. I had the privilege of being his advertisement manager for five-and-a-half years. “I wish I’d met you years ago,” he smiled at me as we discussed the pleasing revenues I was generating.  
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No, I’m going to keep wearing this hat. It hides my receding hairline nicely. I seem to have more hair on my face than on my head these days. It’s hot in here. I’m starting to sweat. Might have to take my jacket off. What shall I have to drink? I wonder whether that girl behind me might like a drink.
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I am listening to my favourite musician, Alberto Giurioli play Tutto e Bellissimo. He is such an accomplished pianist, I can only dream of playing like him. The world can rush by and I am happily lost in the moment. What a welcome break, if only for a few minutes. There’s only seconds left until the end of this piece. I might just listen again before re-joining the hectic rush dash of the commute.
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