There is a spot I go to in my little house that sends me places. I can tread countless continents with no passport; time and space is completely pliable, the only constraint is my own wretched imagination.
After spending many years wandering through strange markets, dodging eight handed pick pockets and avoiding the sellers of the deep space, pink bellied whale (a delicacy known to cause reverse hair growth), I’ve avoided — for the most part — laying my tales before living eyes. But I think there is a good reason to now.
To follow me on my journeys you will need a suitable passport which I will endeavour to provide. Just how to get this to you dear one, I do not yet know. But I will get right on it after I have dealt with the thief who has made up with my sandwich bag. He may lose a hand for this!