A lamb appeared at the door. He could tell because he had an Amazon Ring™️ camera and he’d got a notification on his phone. How odd, he thought to himself, a lamb, in Islington. He set down the two edge pieces whose compatibility he was just about to check, scraped his chair back over the wooden floor, and made his way down the half-flight of stairs—during which point the bell rang, and he said “Coming!!”—and down the little corridor to the door. He unbolted the bolt and unchained the chain, and twisted the key to the left two times to unlock the lock. It had frozen slightly shut, due to the combination of an unseasonably cold January and a leaky shower extractor pipe from upstairs. He gave it a good bash and a pull and it opened.

“Hello there lamb,” he said, looking down at the meagre-looking animal, “Are you alright?”

“I’m looking for the party,” said the lamb, “Is this Sarah’s house?”

And, a little puzzled, he replied, “Sarah lives next door.” And the lamb said thank you and trotted next door.