June had a day off work and stood like a silent paperback in a choir of singing hardbacks - I meanwhile was contemplating what might come after M-theory (a little voice in my head said N). I didn’t have time for a proper dinner before walking June to the bird headed people place where she planned to sit in a hedge emulating an ancient apple tree. She returned home much later with a hunting party of long tailed tits fluttering about her top branches. I had unwittingly sat in a growing chair so long I had disappeared through the ceiling; I was just about to examine the markings on the great bell in the loft when a young gypsy girl with a goat helped me down again. June never mentioned the girl but wanted to know what I was doing with the goat.