It was conceived in the skies over Ethiopia, delivered 12 weeks later in London, and celebrated in the company of friends.

It is in front of me as I write and I am inordinately pleased with it, for I am blind to its imperfections. It is my book, African Deadline: "Twenty-two years in the long grass of central Africa without a break". I published it myself, and few things have given me greater pleasure.

I am the first to admin that it is not what might be called a proper book, the sort you will see on the shelves at Hatchards, though at first glance it would be indistinguishable from the rest.