My wits grew idle and, of course, I turned to mischief. Now, as you know from my former journals, I have always cursed doctors. I don't call them liars. I only wish I had their money. Have you noticed how everyone is deeply interested in their own health? My last wife was a good example. She called in a physician, when all she really wanted was an audience. My dear little chaplain not only complains of diseases for which there are no cures, but of some for which there are no names. At the same time, you can't heap all the blame on physicians. They come with their zodiac charts and urine bottles, boxes of pills and powders. They scratch their heads and know they won't be able to leave, or charge their patients, until they have pronounced sentence and produced a cure. Anything, be it the balls of boiled dogs or the juice of the acorn. So you can appreciate my deep interest in medicine. Why should I be a teacher? (What I didn't tell Benjamin is that I never forgot the ruffian who taught me when I was a boy. On a winter morning, the bastard would whip us for no other reason but to warm himself up. On another occasion he would beat us for swearing and, as he did so, swore the most horrible oaths.)

Benjamin however, knew of my interest in physic and tried to advise me. 'Remember Vicar Doggerel!? You gave him a cow-pat to cure his baldness.'

'Yes, but I didn't tell the silly bastard to smear it on his head on Sunday morning and stink the church out,' I retorted. Benjamin smiled and shook his head.

My ambition to make a fortune in the world of medicine received further encouragement when I received a letter from my old friend Dr Quicksilver: a true charlatan who pretended to be the greatest physician on earth but who lived his life in the slums around Whitefriars. He wanted more elixirs, and who was I to refuse him? So I went back to my games. Oh no, nothing dangerous: the mixing of thyme, camomile and hyssop as an aid to rheumatism. (It actually worked!) Or the skull of a hare and the grease of a fox, crushed and warmed, to be rubbed in the ear to cure deafness. I loved distilling these concoctions. One day Benjamin called me into his private chamber. He sat behind his desk which was piled high with horn books. ‘Roger, my dear friend.' ‘Yes, Master?' I asked innocently.