At that first blow, for it came more like a continuous Mariah, I washeld, perplexed, in an inexplicable recognition at only a shocked moment’sflash that identified with only a glimpse of that of the massed grey gardenpigeon. Now pinned within the saddle of two points of apex approaching theincline, I then dropped to the green, where my position seemed something of aflight flue that channelled both these improbable winged beasts, as well as anun-Holy siren, in harmonic pitch that was set with some bedevilled beat ofimpossibly metered drum of flight escape. Then, something overheard that seems even more alien to the early sunburning away the fog from over my shoulder, and I realise that I am heldbetween the early glare and the figure beyond so I hopefully maintain tosurvive unseen by whatever is beyond the crest. I lift my head a little, andagain, I am certain that I have heard an inexplicable insanity. “First rank . .. fly!” Then the snookered slap of the winged rat itself? Now, to my ongoinginsult of all expe