“Don’t go down there”, she warned; “Don’t go down there ever, my boy.”

I was two-thirds ready to heed her when I suddenly realised where I’d heard her voice before. The inn at Milton Abbas – the twisted crone with no fresh lemon slices! I turned to the woman and bellowed, “Oh, down there you say? Well if you think I shouldn’t then that’s good enough for me” – and then marched straight off in the direction she had been damning.

What else could I do? Although I was alone in the world and facing a journey that would shame a hobbit, my sense of adventure had not been completely cowed; I was determined that a miserable old barcrone would not keep me from my course.

Influenced by The Garden of Unearthly Delights this morning I feel!