I was born in England to parents who were poor, honest, and loved nothing more than going for long walks, preferably in the rain. My education consisted of being forced to take written exams every five or six weeks, and eat school lunches of liver and onions-until I got to Oxford, where we had written exams every eight weeks and had lunches of pickled onions and Guinness. This was quite enough to make me flee the country and seek gainful employment in Vermont, where I have lived for 24 years, writing a great deal, playing the guitar, carving endangered alphabets, and trying to grow good raspberries.