I woke June moments after I had dragged myself from the cobweb wreckage of our flying tree house; she went downstairs to sit in a goldfish bowl holding a scale model of the Bismarck while I went out as HMS Hood. I visited the old maestro in the silence of his music room and talked in major chords. He left the house a few bars before me and I came home with part of the library of Alexandria hidden in a string vest. June had turned the front garden into a landing strip, although we both took off instead. Ignoring the oases we visited the desert but came home with as much in our pockets as we had when we left - although I had bought a drink using a handmade balsa wood glider and she had thrown the lining of her gloves on the table.