Welcome

"A Shout From The Attic," my autobiography, is a more-or-less chronological loosely-grouped collection of life events and non-events derived from a variety of discrete sources, including:

• what I think I was told
• what I imagine I saw
• what think I deduced
• what I remember suspecting
• what I believe overheard
• what I had cause to invent to avoid dealing with life's harsher realities, and, 
• what I think I remember of my life, including interactions with family, friends, non-friends, and a small number of enemies that labour - or did labour - under the delusion that I have harmed them in some way, or deduced that I have acted against their interests, or else they have imagined - no doubt due to a trick of the light - that I have looked as if I might have considered doing something they wouldn't like if I had done it, which I haven't, and is nothing more tangible than the product of their failure to see inside the deep chambers of my heart.  

My recollections range from infancy up to this present time if I survive when you read them.  All of which depend on a kaleidoscope of random variables invoked and dismissed, second by second, by the actions of malignant whimsies, and the accordance or denial of access thus granted - or not -  by what I am pleased to call my mind.

  In addition to such sterling resources it is well to remember other handicaps, such as the not-always-forthcoming co-operation of arthritic fingers, coupled with my unreliable judgement about what is fact, and what is phantasy.  

 The vignettes that lie between the extremes of balderdash and wishful thinking have better chances of being close to the truth.  In this regard, I advise you to keep in mind that it is is my word against theirs, and the difference is that I always tell the truth even when it is clearly against my personal interests so to do.  And this I have done without fear or favour.  If you consider you are worth a greater reputation than you read here, then you ought to have taken history into consideration when it was in your hands.  Now it is too late to change the past, although the wise soul will not be slow to change the future before it too sets like cement.

Enough of this talk; let's to the tale ...