(Credit: Mount & Blade: Warband)

My grandmother piled cream buns on the table until the heaps towered over my head. I ate one while I was sure she was looking, threw another to the dog while she wasn’t and hid two more in the large pocket of my hoodie, then I slipped away to take refuge in the garden. Hopefully, my father would be able to eat enough to satisfy her.

They had an old apple tree in the back of the garden, which had once supported a tree house. Now there were only two rotting boards left, nailed to the bark, but it was still great for climbing. From the top, I tossed the two uneaten cream buns into the neighbour’s rhododendrons. Then sat down swinging my legs on each side of a large branch and contemplated my next move. The dog was still inside, sniffing around under the table probably, hoping for another bun. My father had to entertain my grandmother, and the neighbour didn’t have any kids, so it seemed I would have to invent another one-person-activity.

Something red caught my eye so I swung down from the branch and dropped to the ground. Right up to the hedge there was a ring of red, white spotted mushrooms, like the ones the Smurfs lived in. Or like the ones Vikings used to chew before going into battle. I could be a Viking, I thought. So I took a bite of one and pretended smashing axe against shield, until the one cream bun I had eaten was rather suddenly expelled from my stomach. I had to practically crawl back to the house, and held a bucket between my knees all the way to the hospital.