In an attempt to amuse my friends and family, I would do impressions of Dean Martin, singing Everybody Loves Somebody. I secretly really enjoyed singing the song.

Thirty seconds into the conversation, and already he’d blown it. Grown men, he told himself, in flat contradiction of centuries of accumulated evidence about the way grown men behave, do not behave like this.

Here, sit down beside me. And do come a little closer. I don’t bite. Except . . . we’ve known each other for a very long time, and I suspect you know that’s not entirely true. Is it?

In valley drift we meet commonly with the bones of quadrupeds which graze on plains bordering rivers.

Written By Charles Lyell

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