Plot

• Sat 13 Aug 11: 0 (returning from Spain)
• Sun 14 Aug 11: 3 (morrises around for isabel bday)
• Mon 15 Aug 11: 5
• Tue 16 Aug 11: 2
• Wed 17 Aug 11: 0 (started?)

15Aug11 + 29 = Tue 13 Sep 11

• Sat 10 Sep 11: 2 (started?)
• Sun 11 Sep 11: 2
• Mon 12 Sep 11: 1

• Fri 9 Dec 11: 2
• Sat 10 Dec 11: 3
• Sun 11 Dec 11: 5

• Sun 12 May 13: 4

At the house, there is a garden; and in the garden, there is a cage. In the cage, there is a man.

Neither the house nor the garden are particularly remarkable - there are many like them in the neighbourhood: two-up, two-down cottages built a little over a hundred and fifty years ago, with a few yards of space for a small vegetable patch at the back.

This pocket garden lacks room for vegetables however, as the cage almost fills it: a cube of dull grey metal bars, about ten feet across, with each bar the width of two fingers. The man crouching in the cage appears lost in thought, staring out at the back fence a few feet before him. He does not appear as bored as you might expect, even though he has been in the cage for well over a hundred years. He wears his age lightly, appearing no more than around thirty to a casual glance (if, however, you were unlucky enough to meet his direct gaze without any form of protection, you would hurriedly revise your initial estimate in the short span of life remaining to you.)

The back door of the house flies open, and a somewhat younger man bounds into the garden, stopping a foot short of the cage bars. He looks cheerfully harassed, with a mop of unruly sandy hair and slightly lopsided spectacles topping off a suit that has seen better days. Seeing the cage's occupant studiously ignoring him, he smiles wryly and announces "Tobias! It's that time of day again!" Tobias lets out a theatrical sigh, and - more slowly than politeness would seem to dictate - stands up, turning to face his jailor.