Writing and General Thoughts

Apologies. I’ve not written for some time—a little under the weather. However, I’m coming back together slowly and should be able to recommence the second book in the Beemer Enigma series before long.

To get myself back into the swing of writing, I’ve temporally removed my time travel book, A Paradox in Time, from sale. This is rather different from my usual genre and on rereading, I reckoned a revamp and some extra editing would be in order. It’s more than a little unusual for this type of book and is based on the legend of a mythical Irish island and stories I used to tell my children. I plan to re-release it by the end of September.

Thank you all for your patience and understanding during my absence. Your support means the world to me, and I’m eager to reconnect as I ease back into the world of writing. Your enthusiasm and messages have been a source of great encouragement, and I look forward to your feedback, which will be invaluable.

Writing is a process which, no matter how good one’s imagination or ability to put the basis of a story down either on paper or a word processor, can only be learnt by gaining experience, and learning point by point exactly how to go about it in ways that you, the reader can enjoy without finding too much fault. Obviously, whatever we publish will never be liked by everyone, but the hope always is that the majority will like our books and pass on the word.

My original efforts were mainly of the scy-fi or fantasy genres and were terrible and not fit for human consumption. I have removed them.

Then, with hindsight, and just to see how bad they really were, a few months ago I re-read one. Strangely, it wasn’t quite as bad as I thought! The idea, I reckoned, was good. This could be improved upon. So… I put my newly taking shape thriller on temporary hold… and basing the story on the original, completely re-wrote the book. I thought the results were interesting, and so far everyone who has seen it before publication has been positive.

This is the great thing about having a select reader’s club. I can get feedback and valuable information before publication. I am grateful to John for info in how moonshiners many years ago used carbon in their illegal process. If you would like to join my club, incidentally, you can do so here and get some free stuff also.

The new book is entitled ‘A Paradox In Time’ and is now available on Amazon. The old book which I withdrew was called ‘Not Quite Saturday Night At The Cavern, a title which regretfully gave no indication as to the possible contents!

I would be interested, if you should read it, in your opinions. You can contact me via this blog at https://mylesbevis.com. I’m not asking for reviews, but if any were to be left… an author would be very happy. If it is liked, I will at some stage write another based on the previous book to that to complete the series… got to finish the thriller first though.

Can’t do the fortnightly special friends meeting at the local where I used to live owing to Covid rules, so I’ve been re-kindling some wonderful reading magic I discovered as a kid.

One of my favourites was ‘The Cat That Walked By Himself’ it had the species off to a tee I thought.

Here it is, especially for you, courtesy of public domain. Whatever your age, the youngest of the young or the oldest of the old… If you’re a cat lover or even the opposite, this is for you.

The Cat That Walked By Himself

EAR and attend and listen; for this befell and behappened and became and was, O my Best Beloved, when the Tame animals were wild. The Dog was wild, and the Horse was wild, and the Cow was wild, and the Sheep was wild, and the Pig was wild–as wild as wild could be–and they walked in the Wet Wild Woods by their wild lones. But the wildest of all the wild animals was the Cat. He walked by himself, and all places were alike to him.

Of course the Man was wild too. He was dreadfully wild. He didn’t even begin to be tame till he met the Woman, and she told him that she did not like living in his wild ways. She picked out a nice dry Cave, instead of a heap of wet leaves, to lie down in; and she strewed clean sand on the floor; and she lit a nice fire of wood at the back of the Cave; and she hung a dried wild-horse skin, tail-down, across the opening of the Cave; and she said, ‘Wipe your feet, dear, when you come in, and now we’ll keep house.’

That night, Best Beloved, they ate wild sheep roasted on the hot stones, and flavoured with wild garlic and wild pepper; and wild duck stuffed with wild rice and wild fenugreek and wild coriander; and marrow-bones of wild oxen; and wild cherries, and wild grenadillas. Then the Man went to sleep in front of the fire ever so happy; but the Woman sat up, combing her hair. She took the bone of the shoulder of mutton–the big fat blade-bone–and she looked at the wonderful marks on it, and she threw more wood on the fire, and she made a Magic. She made the First Singing Magic in the world.

Out in the Wet Wild Woods all the wild animals gathered together where they could see the light of the fire a long way off, and they wondered what it meant.

Then Wild Horse stamped with his wild foot and said, ‘O my Friends and O my Enemies, why have the Man and the Woman made that great light in that great Cave, and what harm will it do us?’

Wild Dog lifted up his wild nose and smelled the smell of roast mutton, and said, ‘I will go up and see and look, and say; for I think it is good. Cat, come with me.’

‘Nenni!’ said the Cat. ‘I am the Cat who walks by himself, and all places are alike to me. I will not come.’

‘Then we can never be friends again,’ said Wild Dog, and he trotted off to the Cave. But when he had gone a little way the Cat said to himself, ‘All places are alike to me. Why should I not go too and see and look and come away at my own liking.’ So he slipped after Wild Dog softly, very softly, and hid himself where he could hear everything.

When Wild Dog reached the mouth of the Cave he lifted up the dried horse-skin with his nose and sniffed the beautiful smell of the roast mutton, and the Woman, looking at the blade-bone, heard him, and laughed, and said, ‘Here comes the first. Wild Thing out of the Wild Woods, what do you want?’

Wild Dog said, ‘O my Enemy and Wife of my Enemy, what is this that smells so good in the Wild Woods?’

Then the Woman picked up a roasted mutton-bone and threw it to Wild Dog, and said, ‘Wild Thing out of the Wild Woods, taste and try.’ Wild Dog gnawed the bone, and it was more delicious than anything he had ever tasted, and he said, ‘O my Enemy and Wife of my Enemy, give me another.’

The Woman said, ‘Wild Thing out of the Wild Woods, help my Man to hunt through the day and guard this Cave at night, and I will give you as many roast bones as you need.’

‘Ah!’ said the Cat, listening. ‘This is a very wise Woman, but she is not so wise as I am.’

Wild Dog crawled into the Cave and laid his head on the Woman’s lap, and said, ‘O my Friend and Wife of my Friend, I will help Your Man to hunt through the day, and at night I will guard your Cave.’

‘Ah!’ said the Cat, listening. ‘That is a very foolish Dog.’ And he went back through the Wet Wild Woods waving his wild tail, and walking by his wild lone. But he never told anybody.

When the Man waked up he said, ‘What is Wild Dog doing here?’ And the Woman said, ‘His name is not Wild Dog any more, but the First Friend, because he will be our friend for always and always and always. Take him with you when you go hunting.’

Next night the Woman cut great green armfuls of fresh grass from the water-meadows, and dried it before the fire, so that it smelt like new-mown hay, and she sat at the mouth of the Cave and plaited a halter out of horse-hide, and she looked at the shoulder of mutton-bone – at the big broad blade-bone – and she made a Magic. She made the Second Singing Magic in the world.

Out in the Wild Woods all the wild animals wondered what had happened to Wild Dog, and at last Wild Horse stamped with his foot and said, ‘I will go and see and say why Wild Dog has not returned. Cat, come with me.’

‘Nenni!’ said the Cat. ‘I am the Cat who walks by himself, and all places are alike to me. I will not come.’ But all the same he followed Wild Horse softly, very softly, and hid himself where he could hear everything.

When the Woman heard Wild Horse tripping and stumbling on his long mane, she laughed and said, ‘Here comes the second. Wild Thing out of the Wild Woods what do you want?’

Wild Horse said, ‘O my Enemy and Wife of my Enemy, where is Wild Dog?’

The Woman laughed, and picked up the blade-bone and looked at it, and said, ‘Wild Thing out of the Wild Woods, you did not come here for Wild Dog, but for the sake of this good grass.’

And Wild Horse, tripping and stumbling on his long mane, said, ‘That is true; give it me to eat.’

The Woman said, ‘Wild Thing out of the Wild Woods, bend your wild head and wear what I give you, and you shall eat the wonderful grass three times a day.’

‘Ah,’ said the Cat, listening, ‘this is a clever Woman, but she is not so clever as I am.’ Wild Horse bent his wild head, and the Woman slipped the plaited hide halter over it, and Wild Horse breathed on the Woman’s feet and said, ‘O my Mistress, and Wife of my Master, I will be your servant for the sake of the wonderful grass.’

‘Ah,’ said the Cat, listening, ‘that is a very foolish Horse.’ And he went back through the Wet Wild Woods, waving his wild tail and walking by his wild lone. But he never told anybody.

When the Man and the Dog came back from hunting, the Man said, ‘What is Wild Horse doing here?’ And the Woman said, ‘His name is not Wild Horse any more, but the First Servant, because he will carry us from place to place for always and always and always. Ride on his back when you go hunting.

Next day, holding her wild head high that her wild horns should not catch in the wild trees, Wild Cow came up to the Cave, and the Cat followed, and hid himself just the same as before; and everything happened just the same as before; and the Cat said the same things as before, and when Wild Cow had promised to give her milk to the Woman every day in exchange for the wonderful grass, the Cat went back through the Wet Wild Woods waving his wild tail and walking by his wild lone, just the same as before. But he never told anybody. And when the Man and the Horse and the Dog came home from hunting and asked the same questions same as before, the Woman said, ‘Her name is not Wild Cow any more, but the Giver of Good Food. She will give us the warm white milk for always and always and always, and I will take care of her while you and the First Friend and the First Servant go hunting.

Next day the Cat waited to see if any other Wild thing would go up to the Cave, but no one moved in the Wet Wild Woods, so the Cat walked there by himself; and he saw the Woman milking the Cow, and he saw the light of the fire in the Cave, and he smelt the smell of the warm white milk.

Cat said, ‘O my Enemy and Wife of my Enemy, where did Wild Cow go?’

The Woman laughed and said, ‘Wild Thing out of the Wild Woods, go back to the Woods again, for I have braided up my hair, and I have put away the magic blade-bone, and we have no more need of either friends or servants in our Cave.

Cat said, ‘I am not a friend, and I am not a servant. I am the Cat who walks by himself, and I wish to come into your cave.’

Woman said, ‘Then why did you not come with First Friend on the first night?’

Cat grew very angry and said, ‘Has Wild Dog told tales of me?’

Then the Woman laughed and said, ‘You are the Cat who walks by himself, and all places are alike to you. Your are neither a friend nor a servant. You have said it yourself. Go away and walk by yourself in all places alike.’

Then Cat pretended to be sorry and said, ‘Must I never come into the Cave? Must I never sit by the warm fire? Must I never drink the warm white milk? You are very wise and very beautiful. You should not be cruel even to a Cat.’

Woman said, ‘I knew I was wise, but I did not know I was beautiful. So I will make a bargain with you. If ever I say one word in your praise you may come into the Cave.’

‘And if you say two words in my praise?’ said the Cat.

‘I never shall,’ said the Woman, ‘but if I say two words in your praise, you may sit by the fire in the Cave.’

‘And if you say three words?’ said the Cat.

‘I never shall,’ said the Woman, ‘but if I say three words in your praise, you may drink the warm white milk three times a day for always and always and always.’

Then the Cat arched his back and said, ‘Now let the Curtain at the mouth of the Cave, and the Fire at the back of the Cave, and the Milk-pots that stand beside the Fire, remember what my Enemy and the Wife of my Enemy has said.’ And he went away through the Wet Wild Woods waving his wild tail and walking by his wild lone.

That night when the Man and the Horse and the Dog came home from hunting, the Woman did not tell them of the bargain that she had made with the Cat, because she was afraid that they might not like it.

Cat went far and far away and hid himself in the Wet Wild Woods by his wild lone for a long time till the Woman forgot all about him. Only the Bat–the little upside-down Bat–that hung inside the Cave, knew where Cat hid; and every evening Bat would fly to Cat with news of what was happening.

One evening Bat said, ‘There is a Baby in the Cave. He is new and pink and fat and small, and the Woman is very fond of him.’

‘Ah,’ said the Cat, listening, ‘but what is the Baby fond of?’

‘He is fond of things that are soft and tickle,’ said the Bat. ‘He is fond of warm things to hold in his arms when he goes to sleep. He is fond of being played with. He is fond of all those things.’

‘Ah,’ said the Cat, listening, ‘then my time has come.’

Next night Cat walked through the Wet Wild Woods and hid very near the Cave till morning-time, and Man and Dog and Horse went hunting. The Woman was busy cooking that morning, and the Baby cried and interrupted. So she carried him outside the Cave and gave him a handful of pebbles to play with. But still the Baby cried.

Then the Cat put out his paddy paw and patted the Baby on the cheek, and it cooed; and the Cat rubbed against its fat knees and tickled it under its fat chin with his tail. And the Baby laughed; and the Woman heard him and smiled.

Then the Bat–the little upside-down bat – that hung in the mouth of the Cave said, ‘O my Hostess and Wife of my Host and Mother of my Host’s Son, a Wild Thing from the Wild Woods is most beautifully playing with your Baby.’

‘A blessing on that Wild Thing whoever he may be,’ said the Woman, straightening her back, ‘for I was a busy woman this morning and he has done me a service.’

That very minute and second, Best Beloved, the dried horse-skin Curtain that was stretched tail-down at the mouth of the Cave fell down–whoosh!–because it remembered the bargain she had made with the Cat, and when the Woman went to pick it up–lo and behold!–the Cat was sitting quite comfy inside the Cave.

‘O my Enemy and Wife of my Enemy and Mother of my Enemy,’ said the Cat, ‘it is I: for you have spoken a word in my praise, and now I can sit within the Cave for always and always and always. But still I am the Cat who walks by himself, and all places are alike to me.’

The Woman was very angry, and shut her lips tight and took up her spinning-wheel and began to spin. But the Baby cried because the Cat had gone away, and the Woman could not hush it, for it struggled and kicked and grew black in the face.

‘O my Enemy and Wife of my Enemy and Mother of my Enemy,’ said the Cat, ‘take a strand of the wire that you are spinning and tie it to your spinning-whorl and drag it along the floor, and I will show you a magic that shall make your Baby laugh as loudly as he is now crying.’

‘I will do so,’ said the Woman, ‘because I am at my wits’ end; but I will not thank you for it.’

She tied the thread to the little clay spindle whorl and drew it across the floor, and the Cat ran after it and patted it with his paws and rolled head over heels, and tossed it backward over his shoulder and chased it between his hind-legs and pretended to lose it, and pounced down upon it again, till the Baby laughed as loudly as it had been crying, and scrambled after the Cat and frolicked all over the Cave till it grew tired and settled down to sleep with the Cat in its arms.

‘Now,’ said the Cat, ‘I will sing the Baby a song that shall keep him asleep for an hour. And he began to purr, loud and low, low and loud, till the Baby fell fast asleep. The Woman smiled as she looked down upon the two of them and said, ‘That was wonderfully done. No question but you are very clever, O Cat.’

That very minute and second, Best Beloved, the smoke of the fire at the back of the Cave came down in clouds from the roof–puff!–because it remembered the bargain she had made with the Cat, and when it had cleared away–lo and behold!–the Cat was sitting quite comfy close to the fire.

‘O my Enemy and Wife of my Enemy and Mother of My Enemy,’ said the Cat, ‘it is I, for you have spoken a second word in my praise, and now I can sit by the warm fire at the back of the Cave for always and always and always. But still I am the Cat who walks by himself, and all places are alike to me.’

Then the Woman was very very angry, and let down her hair and put more wood on the fire and brought out the broad blade-bone of the shoulder of mutton and began to make a Magic that should prevent her from saying a third word in praise of the Cat. It was not a Singing Magic, Best Beloved, it was a Still Magic; and by and by the Cave grew so still that a little wee-wee mouse crept out of a corner and ran across the floor.

‘O my Enemy and Wife of my Enemy and Mother of my Enemy,’ said the Cat, ‘is that little mouse part of your magic?’

‘Ouh! Chee! No indeed!’ said the Woman, and she dropped the blade-bone and jumped upon the footstool in front of the fire and braided up her hair very quick for fear that the mouse should run up it.

‘Ah,’ said the Cat, watching, ‘then the mouse will do me no harm if I eat it?’

‘No,’ said the Woman, braiding up her hair, ‘eat it quickly and I will ever be grateful to you.’

Cat made one jump and caught the little mouse, and the Woman said, ‘A hundred thanks. Even the First Friend is not quick enough to catch little mice as you have done. You must be very wise.’

That very moment and second, O Best Beloved, the Milk-pot that stood by the fire cracked in two pieces–ffft–because it remembered the bargain she had made with the Cat, and when the Woman jumped down from the footstool–lo and behold!–the Cat was lapping up the warm white milk that lay in one of the broken pieces.

‘O my Enemy and Wife of my Enemy and Mother of my Enemy, said the Cat, ‘it is I; for you have spoken three words in my praise, and now I can drink the warm white milk three times a day for always and always and always. But still I am the Cat who walks by himself, and all places are alike to me.’

Then the Woman laughed and set the Cat a bowl of the warm white milk and said, ‘O Cat, you are as clever as a man, but remember that your bargain was not made with the Man or the Dog, and I do not know what they will do when they come home.’

‘What is that to me?’ said the Cat. ‘If I have my place in the Cave by the fire and my warm white milk three times a day I do not care what the Man or the Dog can do.’

That evening when the Man and the Dog came into the Cave, the Woman told them all the story of the bargain while the Cat sat by the fire and smiled. Then the Man said, ‘Yes, but he has not made a bargain with me or with all proper Men after me.’ Then he took off his two leather boots and he took up his little stone axe (that makes three) and he fetched a piece of wood and a hatchet (that is five altogether), and he set them out in a row and he said, ‘Now we will make our bargain. If you do not catch mice when you are in the Cave for always and always and always, I will throw these five things at you whenever I see you, and so shall all proper Men do after me.’

‘Ah,’ said the Woman, listening, ‘this is a very clever Cat, but he is not so clever as my Man.’

The Cat counted the five things (and they looked very knobby) and he said, ‘I will catch mice when I am in the Cave for always and always and always; but still I am the Cat who walks by himself, and all places are alike to me.’

‘Not when I am near,’ said the Man. ‘If you had not said that last I would have put all these things away for always and always and always; but I am now going to throw my two boots and my little stone axe (that makes three) at you whenever I meet you. And so shall all proper Men do after me!’

Then the Dog said, ‘Wait a minute. He has not made a bargain with me or with all proper Dogs after me.’ And he showed his teeth and said, ‘If you are not kind to the Baby while I am in the Cave for always and always and always, I will hunt you till I catch you, and when I catch you I will bite you. And so shall all proper Dogs do after me.’

‘Ah,’ said the Woman, listening, ‘this is a very clever Cat, but he is not so clever as the Dog.’

Cat counted the Dog’s teeth (and they looked very pointed) and he said, ‘I will be kind to the Baby while I am in the Cave, as long as he does not pull my tail too hard, for always and always and always. But still I am the Cat that walks by himself, and all places are alike to me.’

‘Not when I am near,’ said the Dog. ‘If you had not said that last I would have shut my mouth for always and always and always; but now I am going to hunt you up a tree whenever I meet you. And so shall all proper Dogs do after me.’

Then the Man threw his two boots and his little stone axe (that makes three) at the Cat, and the Cat ran out of the Cave and the Dog chased him up a tree; and from that day to this, Best Beloved, three proper Men out of five will always throw things at a Cat whenever they meet him, and all proper Dogs will chase him up a tree. But the Cat keeps his side of the bargain too. He will kill mice and he will be kind to Babies when he is in the house, just as long as they do not pull his tail too hard. But when he has done that, and between times, and when the moon gets up and night comes, he is the Cat that walks by himself, and all places are alike to him. Then he goes out to the Wet Wild Woods or up the Wet Wild Trees or on the Wet Wild Roofs, waving his wild tail and walking by his wild lone.

PUSSY can sit by the fire and sing,
    Pussy can climb a tree,
Or play with a silly old cork and string
    To’muse herself, not me.
But I like Binkie my dog, because
    He knows how to behave;
So, Binkie’s the same as the First Friend was,
    And I am the Man in the Cave.

Pussy will play man-Friday till
    It’s time to wet her paw
And make her walk on the window-sill
    (For the footprint Crusoe saw);
Then she fluffles her tail and mews,
    And scratches and won’t attend.
But Binkie will play whatever I choose,
    And he is my true First Friend.

Pussy will rub my knees with her head
    Pretending she loves me hard;
But the very minute I go to my bed
    Pussy runs out in the yard,
And there she stays till the morning-light;
    So I know it is only pretend;
But Binkie, he snores at my feet all night,
    And he is my Firstest Friend!

Rudyard Kipling

From my old blog… a timeless piece of interest.

Do you ever wonder about coincidence? What about the butterfly effect? Could a minor mishap result in total change to multiple lives if the event never happened?

For instance. You’re walking down a street and a rushing man knocks into you spilling stuff everywhere. No problems. You help him retrieve his bits and pieces and off he goes making suitable apologies.

How could this triviality make a momentous difference to his, and his families’ lives? He missed his train and was late to work? So what?

But; on that particular day, the train he would have caught was involved in an accident. Every passenger he usually sat with met their deaths, as would he, had he boarded at that time.

My father used to keep odds and ends in a miniature cabinet which was always on a shelf next to his favourite chair. There were two small doors which when opened revealed a few compact drawers, and whilst he was alive not even my mother was allowed to see the contents.

I’d had a brief look when I was sorting out after he died, but it was years later before I did a proper inspection.

The bottom drawers contained a couple of broken fountain pens,  a couple of dead watches and a few foreign coins. The two drawers behind the doors contained similar, with a few cuff links and collar studs.

Then, a small thin panel just above the top drawer moved a little. A slight push released the spring and a hidden drawer slid outwards.

And there it was, a solitary object. A small square dark red cardboard jewellery box.

I doubted there was something of value in it, my old man didn’t do value. So, half expecting nothing at all, I gently removed the top and looked at the single occupant.

In a bed of soft cotton wool… was a spent bullet!

An old bullet with the tip flattened. Didn’t take much thinking to work out it must have been the one he was shot with (nearly died) during the war. He’d kept it hidden away for all that time! Mum would probably have insisted he threw it away if she’d known… obviously why the crafty old lad had kept it so well concealed.

Now, the coincidences!

I knew he’d been shot whilst in the army as he’d told me part of the story when I was about seven years old, then a little more detail just before his death a few years ago aged 88. A strange very short little story, but with an almost supernatural twist.

During the early stages of World War 2 my father, then an officer in the Royal Marines, was shot in the back during rehearsals for an overseas mission. This rehearsal with live ammunition took place clambering up steep wooded mountains in what is now known as Snowdonia, North Wales.

He was shot by another in the squad who apparently lost his balance whilst navigating an obstacle and accidentally fired his service revolver. The part he kept secret until the very end of his life was that there was bad blood between these two men, and the implication was, the shot may not have been quite as accidental as reported to the later enquiry.

The next memory he had was poignant. He was hovering, defying gravity a few feet above a wounded man on a hospital operating table. A surgeon had made an incision in this man’s chest and was endeavouring to extract a bullet which had entered from behind.

The hovering man nonchalantly realised that it was, in fact, himself on the operating table and the surgeon was desperately trying to bring him back to life. Somehow he’d become detached from his worldly body and the strange thing was, it just didn’t matter.

A tunnel of light seemed to stretch into the distance with its opening just over his head and he thought he could hear voices calling him.

Next thing he knew he was suffering from a sense of extreme loss having been dragged away from somewhere he’d really wanted to go and his father was sitting on a bedside chair where he had been all through the night.

Eventually, my father made a complete recovery and rejoined the war, serving all over the world.

So, just another boring near-death occurrence?

As I said, when my father first told me of this I was very young, long before near-death experience became a general term, so it was a genuine description. I never heard anyone else mention the subject until hearing a discussion about the then new phenomena, on Radio 4 late ‘60s I think.

So, the twist?

My grandfather was an Engineer Captain in the Royal Navy. His ship had berthed in Portsmouth harbour for repairs, and he had made a long journey by rail to be at his eldest son’s bedside. The strange thing was, he hadn’t been informed of the shooting. He had felt a compulsion to contact the commanding officer of my father’s regiment to find out if all was well!

At approximately two o’clock in the morning whilst he was sitting at his son’s bedside, desperately willing the young man to survive, there was an air raid over Portsmouth and a bomb crashed onto his ship ripping through the deck and eventually ending up in the hold where it was defused. On its way, it sheared right through the Captain’s cabin completely obliterating the bunk. The bunk my grandfather would have been fast asleep in if his son hadn’t been shot and lying critically ill in Chester Hospital!

So; if my father hadn’t been shot? And my grandfather hadn’t had a premonition…?

And then what of the repercussions if he had died? This bullet had a lot to answer for.

People he had saved from death during the war would have died, any offsprings born after their homecoming would not have been born.

I wouldn’t have been born!

My children wouldn’t have been born.

My second wife maybe wouldn’t have had a second husband… or married a rich man instead!

You wouldn’t be reading this now!

Unlikely, but the whole world could even be a totally different place.

Perhaps, I should also treasure this bullet… I wouldn’t be here without it!

Interesting to think about, eh?