Around twenty years ago, my wife and I were walking through Peterborough when we visited a bookshop. Inside, we saw David Attenborough walking down the stairs while we were walking up.
He smiled politely at us while we started in disbelief. He was walking with a walking stick and looked rather frail.
It turns out he was there for a book signing. So we quickly bought a copy and got him to sign it.
Ever since then, my wife has been too afraid to read the book. She said she wanted to keep it pristine, as she adores the man.
Well, twenty years later she finally started to read it, but soon after she started, she had a dream that the day she finished the book... Well, you know...
In many ways, although we both know it's ridiculous, we feel as though her not finishing the book is the only thing keeping him alive...
She currently has fewer than 60 pages left...