I have nearly used up three of the six birthday presents from Crocodile Uppsala…four presented and two to come which works out at one a decade. The best present I could have wished for and sufficient unto itself is Nicholas John himself. I am pleased at the way he has turned out and watch his life unfold with curiosity. The next item on my wish list is grandchildren. Andrea has travelled the world with him for seven years so my hopes are not misplaced.

How much credit I can take is a moot point. Any man can be a father but not every man can be a daddy. I made an inspired choice for his mother…although there is the thorny issue of who did the choosing. I am on my third viewing of the Jennifer Ehle and Colin Firth’s courtship rituals in seeking to understand this. Mr d’Arcy proposed last night and was refused. Marriage & Misunderstanding would have served as well as Pride & Prejudice…but not as catchy.

Ayn Rand’s first-raters have something of the Jane Austen about them. The two appear together in book lists but few feminist writers have had the courage to tackle a comparison of the Austen and Rand heroes and heroines. The pitfalls of the political incorrectness of both in gender matters is no doubt the reason…but there is common ground in the insistence of both Austen and Rand that the exchange of true value is the only basis for truth and love in marriage.

Before Nicholas John left home in 1994 to go to university…by way of Nambour High School…his mother took principal parenting responsibility while I took over during summer vacations…a long one in America and Sweden stretching through June to September…a mixed blessing for Ingrid as midsummer is a magic time for the Swedes.

Ingrid has all the photographs from our 15-years together and I dropped a subtle hint…as subtle as a sledge hammer as Connie was fond of saying…that a CD of these would make a rather nice present. I live in hope. The apartment is the fourth gift. He did not go to Mozambique to give me five weeks of glorious Swedish summer but not everybody makes their place available when they are not using it. Perhaps if they did house prices would plummet. Housing Benefit has a Six-Week Rule for the property-poor. Why not one for the property-rich? It’s Common Wealth.

On my arrival here three weeks ago alongside the note of welcome was a Svenska Filminstitut Presentkort with 200 kronor on it…and enough money for three trips to Ljusterö and back. Yesterday I spent half my film ration on Davy Jones’ Locker. The film was much too noisy…the current Hollywood fashion…and needed editing and some pretty basic rescripting as the plot is too convoluted. Enjoyment comes from special effects…and Johnny Depp…not from the story line. But films are made for computer games and merchandising so closer acquaintance may solve this.

In 1982 when David Halprin and I were working on the Center for Conspiracy Studies project I used to spend the occasional afternoon relaxing at Harvard Cinema with its rolling two-film daily programmes. You could sit as long as you liked. Some of the pairings were pretty weird…like Singing in the Rain and Yellow Submarine.

Susan May and our four children would often accompany me. Oscars Theatre is reviving the Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers classic so I thought of Susan as I walked past the theatre after the film on my way to Fridhemsplan. Phantom of the Opera ran there for several years and made my niece Anna Lundell a minor celebrity…though not for the best of reasons. Anna was pencilled in to crew for Vemara in September 1998 but managed only Visby to Klintehamn after the weather delayed us and then Connie fell ill. Susan sent me a transcript of the talk she gave to the Jackson Historical Society in New Hampshire earlier this year about her uncle Jake May...and tells me she is on the mend.

It was around this time that I met up with a larger than life character O. Richard Maeglin from Muscatine Iowa…a 40-something Huckleberry Finn who had turned fence painting into a successful local enterprise and owned the local bank, the travel and insurance agencies and a warehousing business on the Mississippi which ran through the town. Dick was in Cambridge looking to put some matching funds into the Anti-Nuclear Movement.

David Halprin and Dick Maeglin had a mutual acquaintance at the Tides Foundation in San Francisco who turned out to be one of Rachel Kowalczyk’s former boyfriends. This explains why I was drinking coffee in Berkeley wondering where the sixties had gone...and if there was any truth in claims made for it...while on my way to persuade the Tides Foundation to throw some funds at a rather under-researched project so Dick could match them.

The outcome of my Californian trip was some money from the Tides Foundation for David Halprin to carry on doing aikido, Dick Maeglin scuttling back to Muscatine to save his bank as his business empire started to implode in the wake of his imminent divorce…and me high 'n dry with no money, no wife and my romantic love affair on the ropes.

Dick…bless him…despite his dire finances still put his fingers in the till to take out the last few thousand dollars for my sorely depleted coffers which kept American Express at bay for a few more weeks. ‘I promised it and I keep my promises!’ ‘But you didn’t promise it and you need every cent you can lay your hands on.’ ‘I may not have promised it to you. But I had decided to do it. That’s good enough for me!’ Only John Galt and Mr d'Arcy would argue.