I've realised

that I would quite like to be Tom Ripley. Not the needy, rather unpleasant Tom from The Talented Mr. Ripley. The later, more settled Tom, circa Ripley's Game, pottering about in his big country house in France, reading books, collecting art and bits of furniture, going on the occasional sojourn with Heloise (or Rachel in my case), perhaps learning to play an instrument or doing a spot of painting. But without the forgery, or the murders. Well. Maybe. Let me think about that. Forgery and murder might be quite exciting. But definitely not the suppressed homosexual tendencies. Not that there's anything wrong with homosexual tendencies, suppressed or otherwise.

And in the 1970s, I think. Yes. That would be fine.