June got up on holiday and then after an electronic interruption had to get dressed for work. I put my arm above the trenches and got shot in the hand with flower petals. After a reincarnation of the Piltdown Man had knocked on the door with matching belt and braces I examined the marks made by tiny men with helicopters landing on their heads - I was tempted to keep one inside in lieu of a fan as the sauce pan afternoon had started to boil over. June got home late but still in time to see the rabbit bend a length of wrought iron into a supreme example of Celtic art - I reciprocated by whittling a matchstick into the shape of the Madonna and Child. I had to wait for the evening to change its shirt before taking the dog out with a pattern of Anglo Saxon field boundaries on my chest.