In the morning, walking along the tightrope which links the bedroom to the bathroom, followed by parachuting down to the terrace for a breakfast of dragon’s eggs and pancakes, we were then happily reading the GoodNewsPaper. 

The headlines made us laugh and dream big dreams. 

When the door opened a stagecoach was waiting in the driveway.

We took the car instead, pedaling in unison.

Some days are just made for the same old, the familiar and predictable.