There was a clatter, which interrupted my very intricate photographing of a daisy. Not that I needed a photo of a daisy, which is probably a good thing. As I twist to see what the comotion was all about, it is clear to see that yet again Rafferty was in the middle of it and is now making his getaway. Only a kayak paddle to worry about this time, unlike the other day when he came back smelling of Branston pickle. I hate to think which one of the builders in the neighbouring house had to go without lunch.