June left the house an as ingredient for a recipe, leaving me to stir the dog and then take a large cup of tea for a walk. Another ingredient rung sometime after, although by then I was no longer hungry, and all finally returned home to cook a meal. I wanted to eat on a battlefield of painted crockery but June had already dropped my breakfast bowl and wrote no on a small piece of bandage lent to her by a mummy from an early part of the Late Kingdom. By coincidence I had been thinking of writing my memoirs on peeling tree bark (I found out later that someone had cut down the tree). As June went to listen to the television I hung a painting over the radio and waited for a large meal to swim past our sailing ship house ticking loudly.