Time was, from the Enlightenment to Ante-Bellum days, a gentleman could dabble in an expensive hobby without fear of being found odd (one would have said "queer" then, but this is now). Dilettantes, they were called. Or Renaissance men. They wrote poetry. Designed gardens. Created elaborate fishing lures. Made dandelion wine. Played expensive violins badly. But never were they expected to do anything so crass as make money at it. That, indeed, would surely have spoilt the fun. Nowadays there are many more pastimes suitable for a dotty elderly shut-in. I myself trade casually. And opine on the relationship of trading to Eastern philosophies, or how trading is like the many women I have slept with. Or make obscure literary references to the follies of traders. I am not alone on ET in this. But we are a passing phenomenon. With the new three year lifetime of posts, we surely will leave no legacy for future generations. Despite this, I shall here from time to time share petits morceaux of trading wisdom meant not to make you money, but to enhance your enjoyment of trading.