I got up early, before June the body but after June the voice. I checked the garden quickly for pottery shards after the frost giant’s party during the night and then walked up the chimney pot road as introspective smoke; the lady with the fluffy cat hat looking baffled by the miniature mountaineer climbing up my back - apparently he was trying an ascent of my unconquered North Face. I remembered to wave to a fragment of a person in the last house but one (unfortunately that was the only fragment not looking). I then found a pair of marching boots at the top of the road and climbed inside; disembarking outside a pair of clapping gloves. Cold feet talked to cold hands and then came home with a solar flare in a paper bag and a warrior ostrich in a haversack.