"I'm hungry, "  said Geoffrey.

"That's a good sign.  So am I.  We must be returning to normal."

We had just spent a week spinning round in the Corryfreckle whirlpool-cum-tidal race, and it had knocked us quite sick.

Now it was High Springs, and we were Out.

"We're hungry also," bleated the trailer-load of orange-fleeced, wooden-toothed sheep. "Does that mean we're returning to normal also?"

"Of course!" I lied.

"Whatever 'normal' is," added Geoffrey.  Then "THEY'll never be normal!" he hissed out of the side of his mouth,"Stop giving them false hope!"

"Oh do shut up Geoffrey, and have a goji berry flapjack.  Fling a couple back to the sheep while you're at it."

"All right," he agreed meekly.

Things were definitely returning to normal, I thought smugly.  Geoffrey being meek was a Very Good Sign.

Mind you, one of Val Nark's goji berry and raw oat flapjacks wasn't going to hit the spot. I needed sausages, and I needed them fast.  I glanced behind me at the trailer-load of sheep....could I turn on my own kind, in a tight spot?  Could I turn...cannibal?