My scarf having worked loose, I coiled it more tightly about my mouth. As I did so, I recalled the summer of twenty-one years earlier. The recollection brought tears to my eyes, or perhaps it was merely the wintry wind. That moment bore a cousin's relationship to the start of my first book - notably dissimilar, but bearing a curious family resemblance. That evening, I knew, I'd attempt to set this moment into writing. My feeling was that it would prove yet another stillborn start to a projected book.But Daisy urges: Start your book, Jane, and the goddesses will supply its content. Have faith.Jane starts her book, and the goddesses supply its content - as Jane's seemingly-settled life takes a series of unexpected turns. Aged thirty-seven, she finds herself attending university, before becoming a centre of attraction for cheering, flag-waving crowds. Her book will end with a trek through a snowy waste, on a quest to become a better teacher.