From as far back as I can remember, I have always had a feeling that Dragons are real. When you look at a wide sky there is a glimpse from the corner of your eye which must surely be a Dragon whisking past. I always regarded the stories of monstrous fierce Dragons as being completely wrong and I detested stories of St George and his dragon killing tendencies. When I was still a small child my grandfather gave me a copy of Kenneth Grahame's The Reluctant Dragon. It made complete sense to me - a Dragon living in a secluded cave, wanting only peace and quiet to write poetry.