With all due respect to Mr Clough, I am beginning to think that the struggle in fact naught availeth. I am in the position of the train driver who woke up late one morning - his alarm clock failed to go off - leapt out of bed and twisted his ankle, poured sour milk on his cornflakes, jumped on his bike and found it had a puncture, arrived at his locomotive three quarters of an hour late and had his pay docked accordingly, caught his hand, painfully, in a piece of machinery before finally getting the loco underway, and was zooming along the track at 75 mph when he saw an express train coming towards him at the same speed and on the same track. He turned to his fireman and remarked: with a sigh: "Tell me, have you ever had one of those days.....?"
Still, it's only a book, after all. Pity the bloody bird is all but extinct in Britain.
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