EDITOR’S LETTER
Perhaps it’s a universal desire, or perhaps it was Noel Streatfeild’s Circus Shoes that did it, but for about a year of my childhood, I planned quite seriously to run away to join the circus. Having no gymnastic ability whatsoever, and being afraid of heights, I knew that my only hope was to be taken on as an animal trainer. So the long-suffering Labrador was put through intensive coaching, until he could leap a course of hurdles at a word of command without dislodging his teddy-bear jockey. We never got our big break, alas, but the sawdust has not quite left my veins. It is in that spirit that I now invite you to roll up, roll up, ladies and gentlemen, and take your seats for the greatest show on…