Believe it or not, I cannot do cyrptic cross words to save my soul. The theory behind them is sound. Break down language into a code and get your victim to reassemble it. Its an appealing weekend pastime.
Lazily slide out of bed on a sunday morning. I mean a proper streching slide, where my torso stays in contact with the bed as my hips hook off the edge and cut obliquely down the side as my toes scratch along the carpet. Elongating every muscle as I go. Thats the only proper way to get out of bed of a sunday...
Sneak downstairs ninja style, because having to talk to anyone would contaminate the ritual. Put the kettle on. Before it whistles appropriate the crossword section from the paper ( kindly donated by earlier sunday morning risers) . Trial three biros before I find one that works. Take tea and crossword to my desk and be victimised by 1 across.
Having the mystifying become clear, one a week, every week.
But I just can't do them.