I called the others, Vincent Price amongst them, to look out of the front window. A large cherry picker had arrived and a small child was being elevated on the platform. It seemed oddly dangerous. And why wasn’t the child in school?

The workmen – and child – shrugged off my safety concerns and set about tidying the blueberry bush in the back garden. In order to do this they had dug a hole and filled it with quartered strawberries and sugar. A swarm of wasps was enjoying the feast.