We discuss what needs to be done as I search the house for anything to eat or drink. It is stinking hot and I’m wearing jeans. I peel them from my sides and seek refuge in a pair of black shorts. I frown at my slightly stubbly legs but shrug it off easily. There is no one here to impress.

I resume my search for sustenance and come to the sad conclusion that I will have to fill myself with only strawberries or organic bread. Naturally, I choose the berries as bread on it’s own makes me gag. The patio table I sit at is barely big enough for my plate and rocks so much it feels like I’m at sea. I barely begin chewing when I’m informed we must go.

“We don’t have much time. There are things to be done.â€?