The man appeared in the air ... about a metre above the statue of Dr Johnson, at the rear of St Clement Danes church. I stopped immediately I saw him. A rather frail-looking man of Mediterranean appearance, hair brushed back en brosse and wearing a Burberry trench coat, bumped into me, held his hands out open palms towards me in a gesture of apology, and said, 'Pardon Monsieur. Totalement ma faute. J'étais loin.'The man in the air seemed to be around my own age which was twenty-eight. His hair was dark, his eyes blue, and his whole expression calm and serene. He was surrounded by a very brilliant light, more brilliant than the sun, but it did not hurt my eyes. He did not say anything.I was on my way up to the Youth Hostel Association shop in Southampton Street to buy a small backpack. It was now the end of March and the full breath of a new springtime was definitely here. During the past week I had felt I could breathe that change in the air in the tangy breezes that came up from the Thames at Victoria Embankment as I made my way to work in the mornings. In that first true intimation of springtime each year I had always experienced strange, unsought feelings of anticipation and exhilaration. And I always felt a restlessness and a need to change things. This coming weekend—Sunday was April Fool day—I had planned to go on a cycling trip; perhaps down through the green and calm of Sussex.I stood by the kerb-side and looked and looked. Some passers-by began to notice me and, despite the undoubted vision I was seeing, I became embarrassed. Suddenly the vision was gone …So begins a journey. A strange and extraordinary journey.