It is late one evening in 1904. You are in your club; an oak panelled affair in whose fading light you can still manage to pick out details on the book lined walls. The third brandy and your comfortable wing chair conspire – with the last remnants of a once cheerful fire – to do their work. The porter comes in to tell you that because of the January fog your Hackney carriage will be some time yet. Resigned to a tedious wait you sink further into your chair at which juncture one of the longer standing members slips into the room . . .

“Fox Junior (Jack), acting with his pa, was able to use the curious blood chemistry of father and son to bring a genuine warmth to the role, which takes him through writer, Charlie Mortimer’s life with dad’s letters as signposts . . . As a touching portrait of a particular take on humanity through the description of a father-son relationship it will undoubtedly find an audience to entertain. ”