My wife, Jackie, and I used to be a lot more rock’n’roll than we are now. Before we moved to the country, we lived in Greenwich, south-east London, and we used to get a bit ginned-up and very excited about things. I remember it being quite close to my birthday in March; we were watching some David Attenborough thing on TV. They had a decorator crab on, which creates a camouflage by encrusting itself with whatever it finds around it, making it near invisible. I fell in love with the whole concept and remember waxing lyrical about dropping beads, sequins and diamonds into a tank so that a decorator crab could use them.
Obviously, I was extraordinarily, grandiloquently overenthusiastic and my wife was so desperate to grant my wish that she did indeed buy me a decorator crab for my birthday, at considerable inconvenience and, I would imagine, expense. Of course, the problem with a decorator crab is that you can’t just buy it a little bed and a lead; you need a whole ecosystem. Basically, we ended up with a coral reef in our kitchen.
