You all know A Pinnate Leafed Twig. This is the sequel. A log appeared in the garden by the cat bowl partially hidden by foliage. A brouhaha occurred with Bob, the leaseholder, outside the front in discussion with a representative of the landlord and his sidekick, Ian, in the garden pointing to where the log might be, saying to another representative of the landlord, “So you see what I mean?” I subsequently asked Diana, who was sitting out downstairs, what that was all about. Being almost totally self-concerned she didn’t know and couldn’t’ve been less interested in what didn’t directly impinge upon her. What she did say was she’d asked Bob, gardening, if he’d accused John, me, of putting a twig in the garden and planting weeds. Answer came there nane. The log disappeared.
That Friday I asked the caretaker, Frank, if he knew what the fuss had been about. A report had been made to the landlord that a small tree had appeared in the garden and he had been given the job of removing it, as he had done, placing the log on his shoulder and carrying it, with a pause for a pint at The Red Cow, to another estate of the landlord’s where he deposited it in a pile of the unwanted.
A log appeared in the garden by the cat bowl partially disguised by a workman’s rubbish. When that was lifted, the log remained, more evidently since the hedge and foliage had been meanwhile pared. On coming home from shopping I sighted a log at the end of an alleyway the other side of the garden wall and, on going in the block, saw Bob in his garden, so deduced he had pushed the log through the hedge over the wall on thinking that’s where it had come from by the hand of some malign agency.
The log reappeared, by the cat bowl. It has since disappeared to I know not where.
A stick appeared in the garden and disappeared after noon.
Months later the bin-like log and the other reappeared in the garden and re-disappeared after noon.