We left the house in partially drugged state, and began to wander back down Thames Drive. The visit to the house in London Road had been unexpectedly deflationary. I had anticipated a rich experience. Perhaps I had supposed the house would be as it always had, a palace of variety. Instead we had been confronted with an empty container. I sensed that Roderick had not understood why I had brought him there.
There was a feeling that something now had to happen to provide meaning. I felt an unusual freedom together with an interesting sense of danger. Perhaps it was the nicotine circulating in my system like a conquistador gradually taking possession of a new world, occupying and assessing the virgin land for productivity and likely life-span.