The imperative to write has been upped lately as I note the profusion of publication: dear Britta has cornered the international market in graceful housekeeping and the redoubtable Jane and Lance Hattatt are the authors of the entire modern gardening canon. You yourself surely have a Human Resources manual on Best Practice Redundancy Procedures under your belt, or a pamphlet of poems. I do admire your poems.
Anyway, back to me. All I have to my name is a few academic publications, a contribution here and there to other people's books and a smattering of thanks in their acknowledgements. The thanks are never profound enough, if you ask me, never fulsome enough. My own acknowledgements will be lavishly sprinkled with adjectives and adverbs, pages of the things. Every acknowledgement will have a little barcode beside it, which the acknowledged can beep with their phones to automatically post in their social media feeds:
There will be a frenzied flurry of liking and favouriting and there we are: everyone will be happy.
All I want is for everyone to be happy.