Since I am far too old to be penning a curriculum vitae style biography, instead I present a short biographical sketch penned by my good lady wife, Mrs Ray Kennet:
Ray Kennet rises at dawn on his island of paradise in the Philippines; he drinks black sweet coffee, smokes and the moment he can see between the coconut trees, quits his rambling farmhouse and walks slowly across the lawn, watching out for snakes. He is off to move his bull buffaloes. He was born near the river Thames in Surrey in 1930 and today he is not a wreck of ages, not spritely, true, but fit enough to go through the first few hours of a tropical day. His mind is ever clear.
All the same he has an old man’s philosophy, he belittles all past achievements except his marriage. His Filipina wife has never uttered one word of personal criticism in fifty years of being together. He treasures that.
Ray is interested in a bit of everything, from black holes and climatology to Victorian poetry and twentieth century literature. Way, way back he made his fortune from ghost writing the biographies of the rich and famous. He has forgotten the self disgust of such labor.
After the bulls have been tied on fresh grazing he visits his bird hide, a hut, and watches the birds for a while. Then he moves on to the vegetable gardens.
About 19 30 he returns home, has a snack and a rest. Then it is time to go below.
The basement is cool with air con if needed. He has four books; three manuscripts nearly finished and one just started. They may never be read by the world because he wrote them purely to amuse his mind. If they are, it is because his wife knows all about e publishing.
They drive to the beach in the evening to eat barbecued fish, drink beer and enjoy another island sunset.