You Learn A Lot, Writing Fiction.

Grief-stricken. Stricken Is Right; It Is As Though You Had Been Felled. Knocked To The Ground; Pitched Out Of Life And Into Something Else.

The Photograph Is Concerned With The Power That The Past Has To Interfere With The Present: The Time Bomb In The Cupboard.

But Who Knows Their Own Child? You Know Bits - Certain Predictable Reactions, A Handful Of Familiar Qualities. The Rest Is Impenetrable. And Quite Right Too. You Give Birth To Them. You Do Not Design Them.

I Didn't Want It To Be A Book That Made Pronouncements.

I'm Not An Historian And I'm Not Wanting To Write About How I Perceive The Social Change Over The Century As A Historian, But As Somebody Who's Walked Through It And Whose Life Has Been Dictated By It Too, As All Our Lives Are.