My wife is a great fan of Harrison Ford; although pseudo-intellectual snobbery prevents me from admitting it to her, I suppose that I am too. We thoroughly enjoy many of the films in which he stars. As I write, several, including Working Girl and The Fugitive, are being shown on television. Barry Norman, in the Radio Times, reminds us, however, that we might well have been denied the pleasure that Ford gives us, for in the early seventies Ford became seriously dissatisfied with the sameness and blandness of the work that he was being offered so he gave up acting and became a carpenter instead (Norman, 1997). In point of fact, he became a very good carpenter and examples of his work are to be found to this day in many a home in Beverly Hills (ibid.).