Fuddland

When I got back from my travels, everything seemed fine with the house — all fish accounted for and no signs of a disturbance. Sadly the phantom grass-cutter hadn’t visited so the lawn is in severe need of mowing, but something very odd has occurred: the spare bit of fence, stored down the end of the garden, has been turned around.

I know it’s been rotated, because it’s been there so long that one side is as weathered as the rest of the fence, and the other looks nice and new. The question is: who rotated it?

It wasn’t my friend who I asked to check on the house every now and then, and she’s the only one with keys. There are a couple of footballs which have landed in the garden from some neighbour or other, but you’d think that if kids climbed over to retrieve them and accidentally knocked down the fence, they’d still take their balls with them after putting the fence back up again.

It’s very perplexing, and I’m not sure I’ll be able to get anything else done until I figure out why this piece of fencing has been turned around.