All writers of fiction should be required by law to go out and do a bit of reporting from time to time, just to remind them how different the real world in front of their eyes is from the invented world behind them. This is what Frayn did in mid-career, when he took up his old trade, journalism, and wrote a series of occasional articles for the Observer about some of the places in the world that interested him. He wanted to describe not the extraordinary but the ordinary, the typical, the everyday and his accounts became the starting-point for some of the novels and plays he wrote later. From a kibbutz in Israel to summer rains in Japan, bicycles in Cambridge to Notting Hill at the end of the 1950s, they are glimpses of a world which sometimes seems tantalisingly familar, sometimes vanished forever.