Katherine and I were in the kitchen upstairs getting a cup of tea. How many stories start this way? Quite a few, in spite of the demise of the poster featuring a bowl of ducks' feet.
Anyway, a strange man said a poem at us about a bird in a tree. And we were reminded of a previous strange man on an earlier occasion who wanted me to give him my used tea bag for some apparently formidable woman from House Services whose name was meant to inspire awe in us, except we'd never heard of her.
Perhaps our work kitchen is a gateway to a parallel universe. One in which the very atmosphere is hallucinogenic.
Meanwhile,
back in New Zealand... ALSO:
This is a tiny picture of the famous poster with the bearded man thinking about a bowl of ducks' feet while being driven to work by a nurse. In case anyone wondered.