A young man unemployed, bored, and living in a caravan just outside Sheringham, north Norfolk, has a brainwave. At a cost of £15, he changes his name by deed poll from Nick Copeland (regular serf and nobody) to King Nicholas. He thinks, rightly, that this will add a certain frisson to signing on at his local dole office, and to life in general. His caravan becomes a Kingdom, and in doing this cheeky thing, he acquires notoriety and a book is published on his elevation from commoner to royalty. Hail King Nicholas.
If only I’d thought of it first. Actually, I haven’t been thinking of much recently. I had a virus and then I had the blues and then along came Christmas and the blog…well, it has been ignored. But, no longer…I am back; still poor in that relative way we in the developed world are. Still not gainfully employed. Still hoping for a break.
And there’s nothing like a new year -- 007 -- to get warm pink optimism going. Talking of 007, have I mentioned that in the late 1960s I was in a drama group with Pierce Brosnan? In those days, he was an Irish guy of no discernible talent; now a Hollywood king. Fortune has smiled on him. She's capricious is Fortune. Let's hope she smiles on us, too. Happy New Year to all my readers -- there's at least 18 of you!