Renewing an Acquintance.

I bumped into an old friend today. Remember the llama, the one I met after my encounter with the woman with amazingly dark eyes in Tesco? I went out into the garden earlier and there he was, peering into the branches of my apple tree.

‘Hello,’ I said, ‘it’s been a while since I saw you.’

‘And how does that compare with a minute?’ he answered without turning to look at me.

‘How does what compare with a minute?’

‘A while. How long is a while?’

‘It’s just an expression. It means I haven’t seen you for a long time.’

‘Vagueness, vagueness, always vagueness. You humans are a strange breed.’

‘I’d say that’s a matter of opinion, actually. What are you looking for anyway?’

‘Would you mind if I answered the question with a question?’

‘I suppose not.’

‘What sort of tree is this?’

‘An apple tree.’

‘An apple tree. I thought as much. And since llamas are not renowned for their interest in arboreal structure, the perching mechanism of birds, or the foraging habits of tree-borne insects, would you not think it reasonable to presume that a llama looking into the branches of an apple tree should be looking for apples? Do you have any anchovies, by the way?’

'Anchovies?'

'Little fish, rather salty.'

‘You haven’t changed much, have you?’

‘Why should I change? How should I change? What benefit would I gain from changing? I’m a llama, pure and simple.’

‘A llama, right, just any old simple llama. So how did you get here? Oh, I forgot; I think I asked you that once before. You just appear anywhere you want to appear, is that right?’

‘Not exactly.’

‘Well you didn’t walk up the lane, did you, chatting about the state of the weather to the local horses?’

‘I did actually – walk up the lane, that is. Only I didn’t talk to any horses because I don’t speak their language.’

‘Did anybody see you?

‘Of course not. The only person who can see me is you.’

‘Ah, now we’re getting somewhere. You’re a hallucination, right? A figment of my disordered mind?’

‘No.’

‘No?’

‘No.’

‘So you’re real?’

‘Yes.’

‘How can that be?’

‘You wouldn’t understand.’

‘Try me.’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

At that point the llama finally turned his face to look at me. He thrust his nose close to mine and said:

‘Look into my eyes and tell me what you see.’

I had no idea what I was supposed to be looking for but I looked anyway, long and hard.

‘Well, what do you see?’

‘I see the sky reflected in them.’

‘Nothing more?

‘No.’

‘That’s why you wouldn’t understand. Are you sure you have no anchovies?’

‘Quite sure. I’m vegetarian.’

And then he disappeared and I had toasted cheese and sweet pickle for lunch. I expect the fishy taste was all a matter of auto-suggestion, whatever that might be.