June and I, each holding a slither of wood from our ancestral totem poles floated down stream (incidentally her pole had three unmatching shoes on top while mine had an upside down flagpole - needless to say I have never raised the flag). We met the bearded giant resting against an old tree; we conversed with whispering straws in our mouths and shouting strawberries behind our ears. After the giant went off in an oversized sun hat we collectively admired the interior of a garden shed recently spat out by a whale called Jonah. In reality the shed used to stand in the next but one garden from ours and was much used for clandestine bicycle affairs until the older monocyclist put a stop to it. We travelled further afield than normal pulling a protean patch of water behind us.