It seems that my hard-drive is all right and that it was in fact a chicken. Signor Francatelli was wrestling with the creature in the corridor, it had made its escape from the kitchen after declining to be cooked. Stupid chicken.
I asked Signor Francatelli to inspect the various vegetables and herbs that my children have been supplying to him from their allotments at Swiss Cottage. It transpires that many of them are of an 'interesting' nature, possessing as they do, hallucinatory qualities.
This could possibly account for my son Arthur's claim that he is being pursued by a meringue, of a most menacing and unpleasant nature. Personally if any meringue should be foolish enough to pursue me I should not hesitate in eating it.
I have to go now as Arthur is on the roof gesticulating wildly at the heavens and cursing all forms of pastry. Stupid boy.
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