The other thing, other reel I have from Zurich was about a graveyard. The thing is that the stone had the man’s date of birth on it and nothing else. Later I remembered the date and it was my own date of birth. There’s no doubt about it. I sat in one of those plastic hotels you get in big cities and saw the stone with my mind’s eye and read the date letter by letter. There was room left for the rest. So I got back on the road again with a hire car. I must have gone high to get across the mountains and this was—I think—because a hearse kept following me. I must have dodged it by going up a side road, one of those that are only used by foresters. There are blank bits here because I remember coming down the Italian side and finding the treeline below me. God knows where I’d been. Then I stopped because I’d detected a movement in the earth. Well, where I was, it wasn’t earth but mud. The track was stones and gravel with nasty drops round it here and there and outcrops of rock which hadn’t done the hire car any good. Well, I sat in the driving seat, and I saw old roots and bits of tree trunk or branches sticking out of the mud beyond and above me and the thing is they were moving. Then I saw that all the mud was moving down, the skin tearing and mending itself and the sticks and things writhing as in pain or waving as if for help of which there was none, natch. It hadn’t occurred to me you could have an avalanche of mud but there it was and it missed my hire car but cut the track so that not even a tank could have got through. I had to slither and slide and climb and scramble. I came on Italian workmen doing things to the road at the bottom and when I explained I’d left my auto up at the top they laughed at me. I had a lot of being laughed at and fuss.