Seated opposite a large-headed man on an Edinburgh-bound train this morning, I remarked internally at how corn-like his hair was.
It was cropped short and blunt. Well, I mused, it is harvest time.
For the duration of the journey, I idly fantazised as to what it would be like to fashion crop circles upon his massive head.
It would be a quite singular experience I think and would undoubtedly involve a tiny scythe and a spirograph.
As I left the train (how did I not see this before?) I noticed that his noggin was leaping with field mice.