I’ve just returned from an adventure. It involved a TV show. I would tell you more, except I signed a nondisclosure agreement — in blood — and if I breach it, SAS commandos will fast rope from a helicopter and throw German Shepherds at me. Or something. When I signed the agreement I wasn’t wearing my reading glasses.
Once the show is broadcast, I can spill the details. For the moment, I can tell you that the show should air this spring, that I was asked to take part because I’m a crime writer, and that I now need to clean broken glass from the bottom of my shoes.