I’m sitting on the top of a bunkbed in the garden looking at the sky. It’s a bright blue with the occasional cloud. I spot something that’s high up and misty, yet it’s too curvy and fine to be mistaken for something that’s naturally made. As I watch, it drops quite rapidly then steadies itself from a horizontal position to a vertical one as if it’s being inflated. I deduce that it must be a weather balloon. The balloon drops again and I decide to follow it. I throw back the sheets and I fly up and over the garden fence and across the allotments towards the school. In the distance is a hill where some new houses are being build on its summit. I head to the other side of the building site where I see a large blimp parked in the next field. Three men are chuckling as they look out the carriage at me all sporting pilot’s uniforms and brown moustaches.
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