Although restricted to a wagon hitched to the back of four horses, it reminded me of rolling hills. One hill was bags of potatoes, piled high and unstable, but somehow held in place securely by an old woman who appeared... dead? Her arms were skin and bone. Her face skull like. Every time she spoke it felt like the depths of hell were screaming directly into your eyeballs. But there she sat, her arm holding back an avalanche of dirty vegetables.

Another hill was made of people. Children and their parents. You could see clearly that one parent was happy that they had decided to have a hillside of children. They laughed and joked and threw one child whilst two others hung onto their back. The other parent looked like they would happily jump under the horses and be trampled to death. Death by deep massage was the dream. Occasionally this hill would interact with other hills. Running and jumping and laughing. Some of the other hills did not like the interactions of the hill of children. One of the interactions ended in tears when, one very large man who made up a separate hill all by himself, swiped a child away, almost out of the wagon. Gruffly saying something about pests. The child screamed in pain. The old potato woman screeched some unwanted parenting advice. The wagon driver yelled for calm before the horses freaked out.

The rolling hills of the wagon slowly regained a semblance of calm and my attention was drawn to the two figures on the hill next to me. Their hill was made of sacks. Neither of them owned the sacks but they made it clear that this was their hill until they left the wagon. It seemed they had never met each other before now, and were exchanging stories like it was a fairground competition. One upping one another the amounts and the lengths and beauty of the prize. Adventurers the both of them, they had me open mouthed and staring.

'There was that other time a few years ago. I had stopped in Riverside to pick up some things I had left before the great snake hunt of that summer. I sat to have a relaxing beer and of course... an evil wizard decided to try take my pants off. So I quickly finished my beer and I turned around and I said, I said - "These pants.... THESE pants, are yours. take them. But you will never take, my Tomas Randle Steel." I pointed all that heard me to the sword in my hand I did. And I ripped off my pants and threw them at the evil wizard. I got into my battle stance like this"

The speaker got off the sack she was sitting on and stood in a battle stance holding a sword that was not present at the time.

'And I cried at the evil wizard and all around me "Are we going to do this or what?!" and by the time I finished grand standing, my brother had stabbed the evil wizard in the heart from behind. Because no one... NO ONE messes with the Randles when they are drinking'

As she sat down the figure next her shook his head and muttered... 'Your brother sounds great, but... MY brother....'

I once sat down at a table, a month of work with kids ahead of me. 4 days on, 4 days off. During the 4 days off I would be on my own in a town not my own, in an apartment alone. Maybe I should try an MMORPG, I thought. And what would a funny name be to illustrate my love of Sandwiches but also my power and domination. A Captain. Of... wait... SAMMICHES!!

One uses ones moniker more than once and so here we are. Again. Capt Sammich be mine name.