I find that I’ve mislaid a few good friends over the years. Unfortunately googling for ‘Kevin Jones’ produces a profusion of results, none of which are me. There are also a lot of entries for Kevin Jones on Facebook. This makes it very difficult for those old friends who are still living (and unfortunately, for one reason or another, there are a fair number who aren't) to track me down. Hence this page.

So which Kevin Jones is this? Well I was born in Exeter, and lived in Sheffield before moving to Purley, Surrey before buying a house in Croydon in 1981. I left Croydon a few years ago and moved to Derbyshire. I have a sister, Pippa, who is now married, and has three daughters.

Those I particularly miss are Spaniel, who knows me from the Ship, Gasfire, Chris Matlock aka Chris Judd (ironically I'm now living not far from your home town, and I definitely owe you a drink), Bill Osborne from Abbeydale Grammar School in Sheffield, Adedapo Adenyi (also from Sheffield), Dickie Wu (my first sensei), Pete Maduro's widow Lorraine (sorry, lost your address in a computer crash), and Diane, who I last saw in Selhurst not long after her marriage (now found and contacted).

Last, but not least, there's Miho Yamaguchi from Tokyo. We first met on London Bridge station in 1980 when she was 23-24 and I was 25. I was returning from a dojo in Old Street, where I'd just bought a katana, and we got talking. She was doing a degree in English Lit at the time, and had an interest in the Renaissance, particularly in Florentine architecture. I was working for a chemical firm. I last saw her at Victoria Station in 1981 or 82, when she caught the Gatwick Express to fly back to Japan. Before she left, I gave her a necklace, and she gave me a fan.

If I haven’t mentioned your name, don’t presume that I’ve forgotten you or don’t want to hear from you. Then again, perhaps we've already spoken, as I did with one of my old sensei recently.

Basically, I'm now 60. I'm not immortal, and it would be nice to see people once more before I shuffle off this mortal coil. It would be nice to chew the cud over an email or - even better - have a laugh and a pint together whilst we find out what's happened in each other's life since we last saw each other. Or, if that's not possible, at least know where to send flowers.

You can find my Facebook entry here. Otherwise you can email me here by sticking kevin@ on the beginning of the domain name.

It's a bugger losing track of friends, but it happens; addresses get lost in house moves, hard drives crash, and so on. And yes, it may be a bit of a forlorn hope, and it is quite probable that I'll never see any of them again in this life, but that's no excuse for doing nothing. I prefer to get out and do whatever can be done, however little that may be. Sometimes even the most unlikely things work out.

In the meantime, here's my MA dissertation, which rejoices in the title 'Celtic Wheel Symbolism: The Archaeological and Iconographical Evidence for Links Between Time, Agriculture, and Religious Ideas in the Celtic World from Later Prehistory to the Roman Period'.

I've also done a herbal, though it is now out of print. When I get time, I'll try to convert it to HTML or PDF, and put it up here. Hopefully I'll get to revise it some day.

Finally if, by some miracle of links so outdated that they belong in the Stone Age, you were looking for my business, it's here.

That's me, aged 13, standing next to my best mate, Dave Hayler. He died less than a year later from leukaemia. He was the first of a lot of friends to die over the years. Yes, it's a long time back; 1969.

Me aged 20. This was before I grew the beard. I grew the beard a few years later whilst out camping along the South Downs Way. I reckoned that I could be packed up and over the next hill in the time it took me to shave. After that, I kept it.

Helping out in a charity advice centre, aged 31.

Relaxing in a pub, aged 36.I forget who took the photo; probably Gasfire.

A passport-sized photo from my BA course. I was 45.

The same year as the last photo. Me with a friend, Mark, at Chicago Navy Pier. The next day my wife (now ex-wife) and I drove across country from Chicago to Oklahoma. We arrived at 4 am on September 11 2001. We were woken up at 9am when the first of the aircraft went into the Twin Towers.

2001, when I got my first degree, a BA in archaeology and history, aged 46. Not my favourite photo. I had to tidy up for the graduation ceremony. Three years later I got my second degree, an MA in archaeology.

A self-portait of me at 52-53. A lot of water has gone under the bridge since I was 31. A lot of things seen - not all of them good - a lot of experiences (ditto), and more adventures than most. Adventures are over-rated you know. They all sound wonderful when you're hearing someoe tell them in warmth and safety but at the time you're generally thinking "How the hell do I get myself/us out of this?" :-)

Me using a Victorian Alldays and Onion portable forge at night, aged 54. Thumping red-hot metal with a large hammer is very therapeutic. :-)