carpediem1949 (63) from Essex

Physical bits: tall, slim, bald, beard.

Personality bits: quiet, even-tempered, no highs or lows (rather a constant high by having no lows) independent, and I like the same in others.

Social bits: I like my own company or that of someone special. I'm saddened by sheep-like followers of fashion.
Originality is a magnetic quality.

Psychology bits: a free spirit, a lover of independent travel to where others do not go.

Career bits: Books, I've written a few.

Spiritual bits. None. Thank God.

They all overlap really, but never mind. What it boils down to is that life is wonderful, it only comes once, and only people can spoil it. I've been called many things, some good, some bad, but never average or boring.

Extra bits:
I've written a few books, some good, some not so good. New books smell heavenly. Hold the spine to your nostrils and see what I mean. I spent much of my life in universities at home and abroad. It saddens me to say so, but I lament the collapse in standards at home. The fault of Major and Blair.

Food and drink: Gluttony is a joy for those who stay slim. Favourite drink? Authentic sugared mint tea with a lid to keep out wasps.

Religion: My spiritual dimension is zilch. I like it that way, and I hope you do too.

Heritage: White all the way through. I don't know if that's good or bad, but that's the way it is.

Politics: For someone as calm and unruffled as me, Blair's war in Iraq can drive me to quiet paroxysms.

Disabilities: I try to cook well, but fail; I try to put up wallpaper, but fail; I try to read hieroglyphics, but fail; I try to sympathise with boors, but fail.
Are these disabilities?

Languages: French, pigeon Arabic, erratic shorthand. Every time I go overseas and people apologise for their poor English I feel personal shame.

Animals: I once babysat a grasshopper in China. It escaped.

Music: guitar, but rusty fingers. Currently listening to Tinarawen from Southern Sahara. I once heard a Romanian band in Los Angeles playing that electronic thing where you wave the fingers through mid-air. What's it called? Ah, a Theramin. I think.

Sport: Squash, running, I did the London marathon once (slowly). My brother was once London tiddlywinks champion. There's a lot of skill in that. I'm currently touring Europe covering speedway grand prixs.

Books: 'Love in the Time of Cholera' is better than 'One Hundred Years of Solitude'. 'A Tale of Two Cities' is better than 'Bleak House'. 'Watership Down' is better than almost anything. Wilfred Thesiger is stern and lyrical on Arabia, and Lampedusa's 'The Leopard' (about Sicily) is so exquisite it makes me feel like quitting.

Newspapers: The Chinese People's Daily, for its dry humour, so dry it's baked. Al-Ahram, Egypt's classy daily, for its sophisticated insight into Western ills. American trash dailies, for the Dear Abby agony aunt column. The Daily Mail when toilet paper is scarce.

Ideal evening out: Anywhere where no one goes. Three's a crowd.

Ideal holiday: Trudging across Arabia's Empty Quarter or the vast expanse of Qinghai near Tibet. I've done the second, but am too feeble to do the first. Come to think of it, I also went down the Orinoco further than I thought I could.

Favourite films: Foreign films with sub-titles, because you can learn so much. 'The Blackboard' an Iranian film, should be networked by Odeon, and French cinema, however naff, reaches depths ours doesn't. Ever seen 'Monsieur Hire'?

In another life? I'd only want to be me, so long as I can be healthy, sane, and wise. In my head is peace; in the heads of many is angst.

How others describe me: Adventurous, Confident, Different, Eccentric, Independent, Intellectual. Ill at ease in raucous social gatherings. I plough my own furrow, and there is room in it for two.

Interests and miscellaneous: Travel, sport, writing, people-watching. Glad I don't suffer the passions of others. Wondering why people get irate over nothing, why they keep animals indoors and call them pets, and get gooey over watching celebrities on TV. Clive James sums it up: 'I've seen girls breathe on their finger nails, and wiggle them in the air.' Where would be be without such joys?

With luck, those tempted to reply will be serene, with no need for prozac and nicotine, preferably without (too much) make-up, feel most comfortable in jumper and jeans, and shun the idea of nips, tucks, tattoos, piercings, and worse. In short, the more natural the better.

Ideally, they will be independent in all ways, willing and able to jump on a train or a plane at short notice. Better still, they will have a twinkle in their curious eye, and be in their forties.

Do such exist? Failing to tick the boxes doesn't mean we won't click. We probably will.