Christina, poor soul, is reading the manuscript of “Paradise” for the gazillionth time. Well, that’s a slight exaggeration, I suppose. It’s changed a lot since she last read it, and the last two sections she hasn’t read before. But it’s tremendously helpful – I glanced at the big block of paper this morning and she’s picked up all sorts of typos, etc., that I am no longer capable of spotting – wood for trees, etc..

The most interesting mistake she caught was a misspelling of which Sigmund would have made much, I’m sure: one of the minor characters who appears very briefly early on in the book is a pawnbroker. I accidently gave him a less edifying occupation: pornbroker. Whoops. All that time at the computer, I was typing, honest…