Dear Bernard Cornwell, I am sure that for you, as for many of us, the Internet must be both a blessing and a curse. It enables your readers to write to you with impunity, and I shudder to guess how many emails you must receive. I apologise in advance for adding further to that well-stuffed Inbox. I have only recently been introduced to Richard Sharpe - my husband and I moved to Spain in 1992 and somehow managed to miss the surge of interest that was stirred up by the television series. About this time last year, whilst flicking through the vastness of channels picked by the satellite dish, I caught part of a Discovery programme in which you were participating and outlining the hardships that were suffered by our soldiers during the Peninsular wars. Christmas was not far ahead, and with our knowledge of Spanish history very sadly lacking, I decided that a couple of books describing some of the events of the wars in Spain might make an acceptable gift for my husband. I subsequently visited our local English book shop (Bookworld España) and there on the shelves were two Sharpe novels: Sharpe's Havoc and Sharpe's Escape. Having no prior knowledge of how the series flowed, I snapped up the books, wrapped them in Christmas glitter and thought no more about them. The books lay untouched for the first few months of the year - both of us expecting that they would make interesting, but probably dry and heavy reading. Finally my husband read Sharpe's Havoc. He said he enjoyed the book and that I should read it, although his praise was not over effusive. Therefore it was not until several months later - May of this year - that I was plunged into the world of Mr. Richard Sharpe. I am an avid reader and am never without a novel by my side. I have devoured the works of Wilbur Smith, Daniel Easterman, Stephen King, Dean Koontz and Alexander Kent, to name but a few, but I had never before encountered a series of books which were so exactly attuned to my emotional wavelength. These were the books that I would have written if only I had the talent, and I could not believe that someone had done it for me, and done it so perfectly. I am a slow reader, savouring every word and phrase, but on average it has taken me 3 days to complete a Sharpe novel - an unheard of swiftness. On finishing a book I go back through it, searching out the passages and events that I have enjoyed the most, and re-reading them. Then I return to the previous book in the series and re-read it, before plunging forward onto the next instalment. I have to confess that for me 2005 has been dominated by Richard Sharpe, and also that I find myself not a little in love with him, a fact that I would never admit to my husband! I have just 2 more books to read and I am dreading reaching the end, not only because I will be bereft of reading matter, but also for fear of what unknown fate awaits him. He has endured all manner of suffering throughout the series, but at the end of every book I have been left with a feeling of contentment and perhaps a little sadness. I am holding on to the trust that you will not treat him cruelly in these final years. The real reason for this mail, therefore, is basically to thank you for the pleasure, entertainment and wealth of knowledge that I have gained from the Sharpe novels. They have also inspired me to learn more about history in general, an area of study in which I am sadly ignorant, having always been a future orientated person and a lover of Science Fiction. Equally importantly they have inspired me to try my hand at writing again - something I began 30 years ago, but then the family got in the way! I hope you have time to read this mail, but will understand if it's fate is to land in the Trash box unread. I hope it will give you a moment of pleasure to know that you have acquired one more loyal reader who has been thoroughly won over by your unpretentious and infectious style of writing. With many thanks and hopes for even greater things to come, Best regards, Sandy Fawle PS Thank goodness that wretched Jane is out of the way PPS How could you have let Hogan die so carelessly?