The Knar is a bump, a burl, a growth of heartwood. It is a sacred spot on a sacred tree. To the Druids it would have been a suitable altar, a gathering of the vital energies. For me it is the name of my firstborn son. He inspires me to stand taller.

The Knarr is a ship, the finest ever built by the Vikings, the finest shipbuilders ever. It is a high-beamed, swan breasted sturdy boat, buil for carrying heavy cargo across stormy seas. I have the wind behind me now, and although we are taking on water and I must bail constantly, progress is being made.

Knar is fire in Arabic. It is the greatest of gifts we call inventions. The Knar is that spark that has ignited a burning desire to use this gift, to ask the burning questions, stoke the flames of desire for knowledge and immolate my resistance in a roaring, whooping bonfire of barbaric joy.