If you ever visit us you will notice there are plenty of books lying around plus lots of notebooks and pieces of paper with ideas, jokes, schemes, half finished film scripts and novels and so on. On top of this I write letters to people. I sometimes send them but they often end up being burnt in a dramatic manner thanks to some advice my mother gave me years ago regarding cleansing your soul from other's bad vibes and protecting yourself from psychic vampires. Good ol' mum! However, it is not a nice thing to come home to said pieces of paper before they are consigned to the funeral pyre and thinking that maybe, just maybe they are directed at you.  I got a phone call while chilling out down the huerto from none other than Mr van de Ven. His voice was faint and not his usual exuberant self. ''Is this addressed to me?'' he asked. ''Dear arsehole, YOU SUCK ALL THE JOY OUT OF EVERYTHING, have you ever asked or wondered why your life is like this? You know, one shitty drama after another, and then you have the nerve to say to me.....(indecipherable)...who are you all of a sudden? F#cking Buddha?'' He thought, mistakenly, that he had found a so called Dear John letter. You know, a letter writtten to a man by his wife to inform him their relationship is over. Suffice to say it was not directed at him. If it were I would be long gone. Who was it directed at? Well, all will be revealed. If you wanted me to write something nice about you then you should have been less of a c#nt.