The boy (nearly always a boy) who was the clever geek, no friends, rarely spoke, terrible at PE, hair, clothes and shoes always wrong, often badly bullied or ignored. uk and we will contact you to make suitable arrangements to either refund the sale or replace the faulty goods.

In fact to be honest I’ve been ‘a bit ill’ for a couple of weeks – and on such occasions when I start being ill, one of the bizzare symptoms is that I suddenly decide that it would be a great idea, to either Talk or Tweet incessantly, make my way through dozens of wildlife blogs or articles, make potentially annoying, embarrassing and daft entries on some poor unsuspecting persons blog.OK Licensing might be introduced but many know that will not work and the corporate carnage will continue and then eventually the reasonable folk prepared to compromise (which would have been many of us until we woke up to the real reality) will see the light and sense will prevail through democracy (we are led to believe that we live in a democracy)? This slightly weird kid grew up to be a slightly weird, and troubled, adult, and the honesty of the book is what makes it very powerful. These were selected by a panel of experts from more than 270 titles nominated by the public last year. At the centre of the book is his relationship with the kestrel he kept; this reminded me of the excellent H is for Hawk. Upfalling from his warm cocoon he slowly ambled to the computing machine to make his tumultuous thoughts heard.

He is passionate about all things wildlife and conservation, an interest that stemmed from early in his childhood where he developed a fascination with all creatures great, small, dead and alive. It felt like he was detached from the events going on, and to a certain extent he probably was, but overall it is a really good read.When he talks about how "beneath the roots of long-gone oaks pike lay log-like in their frozen palaces", you can tell he's part of a noble, poetic tradition of nature writing. His introverted personality meant that he was a boy who didn’t fit in with anyone else at school; he was bullied, beaten up and suffered in some way every day.

Whilst described as a memoir it is more a collection of perfectly framed moments, some of which are hauntingly beautiful, others are heart wrenchingly sad and some are just downright icky. Lastly in other sections we meet him in his early 40's, apparently having counselling following a suicide bid.It has beautiful lines, draws the reader in, reveals so much about the author’s inner self and those with Asperger Syndrome and finally has fascinating information about many, many animals. I’ve lost a few friends and missed out on making them over the years because they didn’t know I was ill and I didn’t understand, and accept, the illness until some 30 yrs down the line. In his rich, lyrical and emotionally exposing memoir, Chris brings to life his childhood in the 70s, from his bedroom bursting with fox skulls, birds’ eggs and sweaty jam jars, to his feral adventures. He would spend hours outside looking for specimens, poring over his collections and boiling carcases to get to the bones.