FRIENDS appeared unusually pleased to see me when I called in my local after a holiday.

It seems that while I was away there was a suggestion that I was dead.

Somebody had seen something on the internet about Alan Calvert’s death and — because I was not around to prove I was alive — there was speculation. I typed my name in to Google and, sure enough, one entry was headed: “Alan Calvert: Death”.

It was an obituary notice in a newspaper concerning another Alan C who was slightly younger than me.

Like that of Mark Twain, news of my death was somewhat exaggerated.