I meet my granddaughter for the first time. She is 7 or 8 years old. Paul and I had moved away from the small town where she lives and had never gotten back before now. My granddaughter and I have a nice conversation.
My granddaughter rides her bike where all these cattle are kept. They are in a circular, fenced in, moving enclosure that goes around and around. Laura L. who is unusually thin, is in charge of them. She is to bring them some place. It is her responsibility.
Later, Laura and I are in a pub. We are getting something to eat and drink. There are a couple of “mob” guys there. They get a bit rough. One has a knife. He threatens to cut off my finger. I say “Uncle” and he stops. Later, I talk with him about photography. He is into photography. He wants to get together. I suggest we show our best photo sometime later at the pub. He agrees with this.