The small menagerie of Indiana Jones

Some weeks ago my daughter saw two men on the small sloping piece of grass at the back of a car park in Newtown. One of the men she described as Peruvian, the other as looking like Indiana Jones.

While the so-called Peruvian was playing on pan pipes, the Indiana Jones look-alike had lowered a small metal cage and then released, for a short run on the grass, a single guinea pig whose extraordinarily long and multi-coloured fur looked, she thought, as if it would have to be brushed every day to prevent it from turning into a dirty and tangled mat. She did not think that the Indiana Jones man – of whom she had felt a little afraid, for reasons she could not identify – seemed as if he was the kind of person to care for a guinea pig of that sort.