I am not afraid of mess, I think there is magic in it. Unlike many of my sex I lack the will to cleanliness. I can function in any kind of shambles because my eyes are inside-out. However, even I admit that the pile of festering rubbish we had cultivated in the concreted area at the side of the house was a bit over-the-top. You miss the bins once or twice and it all builds up, supplemented with cardboard boxes, oddments of excess furniture and the bottles. Oh, all those bottles. Strangely enough, there were never any flies, just hundreds of worms underneath.
Now the landlord has taken it all away my thoughts turn to patio furniture. Or at least taking the wheelchair outside. We found the wheelchair in the garden one morning. It was in a bad state, but we took it in and it proved very comfortable. We have found quite a few things in the garden. I found a laminated wooden plank that was perfect for propping across the top of the bath so I can do my puzzles while I soak. We found a painted, totemic stick. One afternoon shortly after we moved in I was in my bedroom up to no good when I heard a chorus of children expressing high disgust. When I went outside there was a snow-white cat lying dead at the door. There is only one explanation. They are offerings. The neighbours have decided to worship me as a god.