Why do people of nervous disposition do that sort of thing? Suppose you played it back the following day and heard two gravelly voices in conversation:
‘Can you eat them?’
‘Dunno. Are you hungry?’
‘Me neither. Let’s come back when we are and find out.’
Going to bed the next night would be a lot of fun, wouldn’t it?
* * *
It’s now the early ours of the morning of Halloween. Mustn’t forget to placate the little people with whisky and cake tonight. If the scotch has gone the following morning, I’ll assume the postman drank it. (But I won’t raise the matter with him.)