Talk about falling in love ..... Once I passed 60 I assumed I was safe from the follies of elderly males. But now Camille delivers not just one but *two* body blows to my equilibrium. She expresses a view of chemical psychiatry that I thought was confined to cynical old analysts like myself - & she overeggs the pudding altogether by suggesting a secret illustriousness of identity that makes me dizzy with flattery. But then, Goddamit Godot, having set me up nicely, she knocks me down with this: `...If you read further into the Hamilton biography (and I dip into that self centred hatchet job as little as possible) ...' It's some years since I read the book & I don't have it by me for reference but her description - `self-centred hatchet job' - doesn't at all fit my memory of it. Nor does it fit with an even hazier memory of my one meeting with the man himself in a London pub almost 40 years ago. He was introduced as (I think) literary editor of (again, I think) the Spectator & part-time poet. He was so self-effacing that my dominant impression remains one of great kindness & courtesy to a young punk like me who had not the smallest claim on his time or attention. Surely one can express a little scepticism about what looks to some of us like contrived reclusiveness without being labelled an axe man ? Scottie B.