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This week's Final Word comes from a writer whose metropolitan novel has a rural sound:

"In a way, too, you were a terrible little creature. If we were out together, on a blanket in the park - whenever you caught my eye you would give a brief quack of impending distress, just to keep me on alert. You were a terrrible little creature. But we are all terrible little creatures, I'm afraid. We are all terrible little creatures. No more of that. Or of this.

"So if you ever felt something behind you, when you weren't even one, like welcome heat, like a bulb, like a sun, trying to shine right across the universe - it was me. Always me. It was me. It was me."

The winner of last week's competition, who correctly identified Rudyard Kipling's Kim , is Mr B. Hattell of Plymouth, Devon.