Mr Whisketts kept us all enthralled and sweating and jumping and shouting and desperately reading without delay until our fingers hurt and our eyes bled – till we couldn’t stand straight but found it far too painful to sit.

And then W disappeared (well… snuck off into a warm corner for a while) and we sobbed and kicked and cried and sweated some more and pined and pined.

But the jungle beats have sent the message that 5B4 may have seen its day and dug its ditch but 40×50 has risen from a phoenixeral-pile-of-paper to keep us hopping and grinning and giggling and screaming-till-hoarse. So the rumours were true and we shall not sink into the ocean along with California… we shall sit in the sunshine and drink our cocktails with silver reflectors balanced on our knees and cigarettes dangling from our fingers while busily looking at more pictures, more books, more prints, more joy.

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