Sometimes when look out of my bathroom window at the rising
field beyond my garden hedge, I see a humanoid shape striding along the ridge
from left to right. I can tell from the height of the tree branches, the
hedgerows, and my occasional sightings of dog walkers tracing the same route,
that the figure is around 8ft tall. And its appearance is fuzzy as though its
body is covered in dense brown hair.
I have no doubt that it’s a sasquatch, and that pleases me because I like sasquatches. I even leave an apple in the wood at the top of the lane sometimes, just in case there’s one keeping itself carefully hidden up there. I’ve heard they have a fondness for apples.
And I suspect that the various chemicals to which the bathroom plays host combine to cause the mind to see favoured pictures where there are none.
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