Sal and I are visiting Richard Briers in his old house on an island, but the route is treacherous. I climb steep rocky steps and squeeze through a tiny window feet first pulling myself up into an odd metal contraption where I am held Houdini style. Now I am hopping from rock to rock across the island. At one point I am in a bed in an open wing of the house. The bed sits at the edge of the shore. I am told that if I sleep here at full moon all kinds of birds will appear and swim around me. It's a lovely image although I am a bit nervous the tide will rise and the bed will be swept away. I am assured there is no problem.
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