I woke to see a partially shrouded figure reading to me from a book and then saw myself getting up holding onto a stained and ragged page. I was still holding hands with my imagination when the little people arrived, their ears tall enough to look in a first floor window. We visited the spotted cat (but not the tabby dog) with clean sheets of paper and a step ladder of plastic animals. Coming home as space conquistadors in a galactic wagon train we held onto each other with paper boy hands - as usual I missed the first edition. After a break standing among the footprints of unknown soldiers we all went out to eat at a point where supposedly rude and polite tongues meet. I called it the etiquette crossroads while the others called it a roundabout and knocked a coconut off the back of a seaside donkey.