‘You should think about it,’ Simon says. ‘At least do some research. It could be big.’

‘Sure.’ Strips of green serrated plastic in their billions, choking turtles after a working life that achieved nothing at all. Does someone have to make it? Really? ‘I’m serious about the degree, the history thing. And doing something with it.’

I’ve applied but I don’t start till summer. A BA in History at UAA, the University of Alaska Anchorage. Sometimes, I need to look up and see that there’s a horizon beyond toolboxes and an occasional house sale and the mechanics of each day. Skiing was the plan for so long that I didn’t have another. I can’t say, here and now, to Simon, ‘I’m going to teach history.’ That it’s something I actually think I want to do. It seems implausible this far away, on this humid day, with rich Hong Kong people visiting their ponies on the other side of the trees. He and I should connect better over history. I had hoped we would.

‘Sure,’ he says back to me, in the same unconvincing way I know I said it to him. I have started two degrees before and pulled out of both, one early, one late. But that was the nineties, long ago. ‘This could still be an option though.’

‘I think we already have bento grass in America.’

‘I bet if you work with Jo-Jo, you can land it cheaper.’

‘I bet.’

He takes another drink, gets the sun in his eyes, frowns. When Simon frowns, his mouth makes an inverted U, an actual frown shape, unlike most people, whose mouths just go flat and pencilled in and unforgiving. For a second or two, he’s a frown emoji, if someone came up with an emoji set called Middle-Aged and Crumbling.

‘It’s good to talk,’ he says. He looks around, in the direction of the equestrian centre, as if someone has called out to him. There’s no-one there. ‘There’s a lot to talk about.’

He’s on the brink of saying more when a text pings through to my phone. The name ‘Colleen’ comes up on screen.

‘Sure. It’s been a while. I’d better check this. Lacy’s mom. Mum.’

It’s a poop emoji.

‘I’d better . . .’ I point at the phone, start thumbing my reply.

Thanks, Colleen. If I can take this to mean all is regular down there, I’m happy for you. Alternatively, Cedar, please don’t use Grandma’s phone unless you have permission and she’s there beside you.

Two poops fly back in response.

I send him a toilet paper emoji. Now give her back her phone.