My mother rang this morning to tell me that I was born at St Luke's Hospital, Darlinghurst, at 3.20am, 65 years ago today. I invariably forget things like that. I've forgotten my blood type too, which my wife Ann says is a kind of capital crime. I think that if you squint hard enough, its possible to imagine that it might be so.

I am surprised to have made it thus far, for there was a time when I didn't think I would make it past thirty. But God had other plans for me and so, no matter how much time is left, I will try to unravel them as best I can.