Between the shuffling hooves of ibex, past the kneeling okapi and gemsbok, darted a mouse, late, holding high above her head a foil-wrapped parcel with a bow. She skidded to a stop beside an antelope, who turned to her, and smiled her a sympathetic smile.

“Sorry sorry,” she panted, “sorry!” She scurried to Robert. “Happy birthday!”

“Thank you, little mouse.” He replied.