A very early morning (although it would have been even earlier if the skeleton in the cupboard hadn’t turned off my alarm clock) and I caught a bus beside the Southern Railway steam engine. Changing where the guard changed I followed the sleeping giant valley to the fully awake giant village. The old man was holding a mechanical cat and pointing to a mechanical bird when I let myself it. I cut down a hedge for the Madonna and Child next door – accidentally calling them Isis and Horus in the process. I came home tied to a slice of toast and cart wheeled through the front door with a shopping bag in each hand. June popped in at noon and we talked of a legendary bird god and the transcendence of the individual as she handed me a baguette.