So we returned from that challenging Frankfurt Book Fair of 1975, physically and mentally battered but with promises under our belt. Now the embryonic ideas had to be converted into real books. Jacquetta Hawkes was not a problem – her chapters, written in an elegant mandarin style, were delivered with reassuring regularity, and she was supported by a fellow archaeologist in the research for the maps we created. John Seymour, however, lived a life of companionable disorder,
easily distracted by offers to go fishing or by extended
afternoons in Elsie’s front parlour. Besides which, he was struggling to make the farm productive with the supine help of the hippy apprentices.
But it was easy to forgive him ...