We stood there, in the pavement, on the dark, surrounding the sugary offering to the gods. An owl came in to land on the Pavilion roof. Then Jonas arrived. Believes in Jesus you know. He was pissed off with the police arresting him. And can’t he have our food. The food and energy juice was not ours to give. The Triathlete and the Iron Man had disappeared on the out and back a few minutes ago. And without my companion for the day I could not work out the splits of when they were expected back. There had been an entourage following the matadors. Offering support, ensuring that they did not run of the edge of the world. They would return to where they had started much, much earlier. Now with the knowledge. This would be theirs forever.