Now that I am incapable of profound thoughts, or even complex deductions, I dream of meeting and falling in love with an equally unambitious woman, and living a life of mild anonymity in the suburbs, just getting to know the neighbours and not thinking of travel too much. I want to talk about food, beer, sport and domestic repairs. I want to work hard all day and come home tired. I want to greet my wife and children every afternoon and just love them, and be loved in return. So private is this sunny fantasy that it has the cast and character of a sinister perversion: a disembowelling of character in the honeyed sunlight.