And again about a knife. Last night’s gig was very vodka. Arriving home bushed, heels over head, I have put things down to achieve key and adjust abrasive thong, and all in absent minded my handbag in the Hof.

We live high in the rain in Berlin again, on the 4th floor. There is one goods lift, which is very goods for I am heavy baggage, remarkably at night. But even so my red bag blemished down and out from 3am to 8am, when it was rummaged by a table-maker.

He has put sign Handtasch gefunden. He alleged what was weird, was in it: a melodica, false eyelashes, rabbit, red suspenders, thirty euros, a sock puppet and big new silver shiny knife. He looks us askance, always we are return from gigs late at night with bodies in bundles, spooking business building by living in it and the elevator. We pull red leather trolley with music machines inside. It has a squeaky wheel. We are bad goods and trashbags.

So here my stuff covered in sawdust and a bit wet. Mr Puppet will not speak to me.