When I was caught with a demand for more income tax than I could manage to pay, I had to sell up our lovely Orchard House, swimming pool and all; I took my family to live in Moreton Road at Number 16, the last house in the street. There I began to write about a planet called Helliconia. Further along the road, at Number 6, lived a young man and wife, above a dentist; he was teaching Shelley and also writing a novel. His name was William Boyd.
Boyd and I became great friends. He would stroll down the street, or I would stroll up the street, and we would drink a few glasses of Shiraz together, and converse.
Soon, Boyd became very successful. In 1981, he published A Good Man in Africa. Extremely funny, we all thought, and cheered. Since 1981, he has never looked back. Not just novels but films and plays.
He lives in London now – of course not at No.6, Moreton Road. Nor is there a sign on the door to commemorate his stay.
One cannot imagine that worries him at all.
In 2005, Boyd was made Commander of the Order of the British Empire. His is a real success story – an encouragement to all budding writers, many of whose buds tend to wither on the branch.
