One has to ask the question why Jeremy, as he reflected on his chair at Goldhanger and five lives hung in the balance. Were you reminded of Suzette's children, with whom you used to construct a Lego tractor, but who had now absconded with the only woman you really loved and who never contacted you again, or were your thoughts on the miscarriage she suffered and deprived you of your child?
Was Jeremy pleased with the flow of proceedings as he stood outside hour after hour, his now restrained emotion waiting for the outlet Julie afforded as the action moved to Goldhanger and he stifled a chuckle behind closed doors, a compliant Julie transfixed by this man's aura of evil?
Would Angie Greaves have made him any happier installed at Moreshead Mansions, revived and regenerated for a time by the effervescence of the London crowd, or would that relationship too have ended in tatters as Jeremy headed off to a far-flung Tibetan monastery with Roland Pargeter, the only individual on the Farm he could to some degree relate to, a voluntary banishment keeping him content until some other sublunary calamity led inexorably to his own destruction, as Julie's Ariel now fled, yet with Jeremy's Prospero still enslaved?
