'I think prison has done me very little harm and some good. I am now far better read, far less smug and conceited, far more tolerant and considerably more capable of looking after myself' In 1930, twenty-one-year-old Roger Mortimer was commissioned into the 3rd Battalion Coldstream Guards and spent the next eight years stationed at Chelsea Barracks. He lived a fairly leisurely existence, with his parents' house in Cadogan Square a stone's throw away, and pleasant afternoons were whiled away at the racecourse or a members' club. Admittedly things got a little tricky in Palestine in 1938, when Roger, now a captain, found himself amid the action in the Arab Revolt. The worst, however, was yet to come. In May 1940, while fighting the Germans with the British Expeditionary Force in the Battle of Belgium, he was knocked unconscious by an exploding shell. When he came round he was less than delighted to find that he was a prisoner of war. Thus began a period of incarceration that would last five long years, and which for Roger there seemed no conceivable end in sight. Vintage Roger is Roger Mortimer at his witty, irreverent best, exuding the charm and good humour that captured the nation's hearts in Dear Lupin and Dear Lumpy. Steadfastly optimistic and utterly captivating, these letters, written to his good friend Peggy Dunne from May 1940 to late 1944, paint a vivid portrait of life as a POW.

'I never usually know what to give the men in my life but I've found the perfect book: VINTAGE ROGER by Roger Mortimer, a collection of letters from the author's war years. He manages to be hilariously funny, even about the most gruesome encounters. I laughed and cried and enjoyed every word' Jilly Cooper (Good Housekeeping festive pick) I think prison has done me very little harm and some good. I am now far better read, far less smug and conceited, far more tolerant and considerably more capable of looking after myself. In 1930, twenty-one-year-old Roger Mortimer was commissioned into the 3rd Battalion Coldstream Guards and spent the next eight years stationed at Chelsea Barracks. He lived a fairly leisurely existence, with his parents' house in Cadogan Square a stone's throw away, and pleasant afternoons were whiled away at the racecourse or a members' club. Admittedly things got a little tricky in Palestine in 1938, when Roger, now a captain, found himself amid the action in the Arab Revolt. The worst, however, was yet to come. In May 1940, while fighting the Germans with the British Expeditionary Force in the Battle of Belgium, he was knocked unconscious by an exploding shell. When he came round he was less than delighted to find that he was a prisoner of war. Thus began a period of incarceration that would last five long years, and which for Roger there seemed no conceivable end in sight. Vintage Roger is Roger Mortimer at his witty, irreverent best, exuding the charm and good humour that captured the nation's hearts in Dear Lupin and Dear Lumpy. Steadfastly optimistic and utterly captivating, these letters, written to his good friend Peggy Dunne from May 1940 to late 1944, paint a vivid portrait of life as a POW., ,

Nostalgic, witty and filled with characters and situations that people of all ages will recognise, Dear Lupin is the entire correspondence of a Father to his only son, spanning nearly 25 years. Roger Mortimer's sometimes hilarious, sometimes touching, always generous letters to his son are packed with anecdotes and sharp observations, with a unique analogy for each and every scrape Charlie Mortimer got himself into. The trials and tribulations of his youth and early adulthood are received by his father with humour, understanding and a touch of resignation, making them the perfect reminder of when letters were common, but always special. A racing journalist himself, Roger Mortimer wrote for a living, yet still wrote more than 150 letters to his son as he left school, and lived in places such as South America, Africa, Weston-super-Mare and eventually London. These letters form a memoir of their relationship, and an affectionate portrait of a time gone by.

Lucky Lupin is a poignant yet light-hearted story of survival against the odds, based on Charlie Mortimer's life with HIV/Aids during the early years (1984-1996), when there was neither treatment nor cure. Using a combination of good luck, gallows humour, Fray Bentos pies and copious quantities of Solpadeine, Charlie survived not only the illness but the hysteria that accompanied the so-called 'gay plague'. Anyone infected became a social pariah; had the local launderette got word of his illness they wouldn't have washed his sheets but burnt them. Whilst taking full responsibility for the consequences of his behaviour - 'The fact is you don't get AIDS from watching telly' - Charlie initially took to the sofa and prepared for death, but, in time, he found the inner strength required to confront his fatal diagnosis, becoming, among other things, an antiques dealer and contemporary art collector. With blistering and often hilarious candour Charlie also recounts his childhood where he developed a passion for cars, cultivated by his adventurous mother 'Nidnod', his dizzying array of careers and somewhat curious domestic arrangements including the 'adoption' of a bank robber for twelve years. He also confronts head on his experiences of coming to terms with confused sexuality, addiction, epilepsy and clinical depression before finding lasting contentment. Praise for Dear Lupin: 'As well as being the funniest book I've read in ages, it's also extremely touching. A delight then, on every front.' The Spectator 'Very, very funny.' Sunday Times 'Wry, trenchant, often extremely funny, but also charmingly forbearing and forgiving.' Country Life