It's Sunday afternoon here on the Island, but wierdly the calendar tells me it is Tuesday evening. It's been Sunday afternoon for at least a week and a half now. In the height of the frenetic summer everything comes at you fast and hard. Parry, volley or fire it back as fast as you can. When the summer ends here its as though your opponent has called in sick. Great!, for a while it is easy to bask in the quiet. The email flow slows to a trickle, and the perpetually demanding mobile phone stares back at you. You stare back at it, daring it to ring, but it declines. The respite is wonderful, for a week or two, until the realistation that these two brutal task masters pay the mortgage, fill the pantry and provide wood for the hearth. You, the hunter gatherer have to be a little more creative in these times. It is no longer suifficient to stoop and collect what lays at your feet. This season, this year more than ever you have to don the metaphoric deer stalker and go hunting for the buck.