I'd just finished playing Mendelssohn's Violin Concerto in the lotus position with one hand tied behind me - at least, I think it was behind me, chatting to K on the videophone - when I heard an odd noise - a sort of squealing bump.
"Good grief!" I said to myself and opened the sitting-room door. Whatever it was lying there had come from top to bottom - down three flights of spiral staircase.
It just lay there crumpled and torn, flat as a pancake, pale brown with battered edges. Paper bag didn't look too good either!
So - I took the poor thing in, showed him where the ....... is, how to maintain the ....... and key secret agent know-how like cleaning the car, pressing my suits, and polishing the eye-patch.
And he's jolly useful. the slightest whiff of danger and he's off like a rocket.

Memo on Penfold.

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