An early trip to the one eyed countryside with a cloud descending over Sidbury Hill reminding me of a girl wearing a Dreadnought Class battleship for a hula skirt. I found a Friesian cow inside a plastic tent and then conjured up a field of sickle holding arms being harvested by a bundle of wheat. I met the king of the sheaves in his hillside cavern and we talked of the future as if it was the past. After a breakfast I read instead of ate, I stooped in a splinter of garden while spearlike clouds scurried overhead. The sun checked its watch as I missed my connection on my serpentine return journey. I met some old friends by the side of the half way road; Dawn spoke at midday and we talked of the summer as if it was a set of numbers: starting odd and ending even.