The hermit’s most treasured possession came from a rubbish skip that he raided in the dead of night at a building site in the town centre. It was an entire heavy-duty plastic sheet that he carefully extricated from the refuse container, folded as best he could and carried back up to his woodland refuge. Delighted with his find, he took it to the stream in the morning, where he cleaned it thoroughly in the running water. He took his prized asset along the hidden trail to the hut where he had tended little Carole’s sore head. A busy day’s work lay ahead, but his task was better suited to these fine autumn days than later in the year when the rain and snow would make the task impossible.
The hermit was neither an architect nor an engineer. Indeed, he had little practical experience since he
