FRIENDS appeared unusually pleased to see me when I called in my local after a holiday.
It seems that while I was away there was a suggestion that I was dead.
Somebody had seen something on the internet about Alan Calvert’s death and — because I was not around to prove I was alive — there was speculation. I typed my name in to Google and, sure enough, one entry was headed: “Alan Calvert: Death”.
It was an obituary notice in a newspaper concerning another Alan C who was slightly younger than me.
Like that of Mark Twain, news of my death was somewhat exaggerated.
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