Of the Seasonal Sort

It is perhaps inevitable that, having agreed to transcribe the remaining pages of my adventurous memoir Conversations with Speyer, my old friend Jean-Pierre Sertin has (in his words), ‘succumbed to an illness of the seasonal sort’. In light of this, I ask my readers to be patient in their wait for the next part in the series.

I could, of course, fill up the space with witty and perceptive anecdotes relating to my new life here in America. Unfortunately, in the face of such institutions as sweet potato chips cooked in maple syrup, words fail me.

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