I'd had an idea of dropping in on Demeter, but found myself striding up Chester Avenue, where I spotted a small boy straddled a small bike with training wheels, pushing himself up the hill.
This wouldn't have been remarkable, except for his bike helmet, which had various branches seeming to sprout from the helmet-holes. (Chester Avenue is, as usual, strewn with branches from the ancient plane trees after the latest windstorm.) He looked rather like Herne the Hunter.
I came abreast of him, and inquired: "Camouflage?"
"He's dawdling," answered his father, bringing up the rear. "He's so slow, things are growing out of him."
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