A friendship immortalised

In February last year, a very good friend died. 'Very good friend' of the kind who live in your heart but you may not see or hear from too often. I didn't hear about his death until I got a Christmas card from his widow. That hurt, it really, really hurt. I missed the funeral and that's something that never can be regained. I've always had cross-gender friendships and perhaps I forget, in my innocence, how worrying they can be for the partner. Anyway, I've been in correspondence with her and all was forgiven and forgotten, until. . .

I discovered today that Pallas and the Centaur is available on a site selling 'antique collectibles' at a very nice price of £30. It was made collectible by it having been signed to my friend and his wife, and part of its historical attraction is that a postcard I sent to my friend was found between the pages.

Well, I folded up and moaned, that she had got rid of my books. Authors often have the misery of finding copies of their works in second-hand and charity shops. One poor mutt found a copy of his signed 'To Mum and Dad' in Oxfam! So I'm used to it and the pain was fleeting. Then I read the catalogue entry again and realised that my friendship had been turned into a piece of history, made diamond. It gave me a sense of destiny being out of one's control. An author's true fate lies in the antiquities catalogues of the future.

So, apply here for your investment copies of my novels! I will give you, at no extra cost, a signed dedication and may be even a postcard. All you need to do to realise its potential is to die young leaving a widow with a canny sense of business.