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“Could you tell me, please, if there’s anywhere nearby I could stay for the night?”

“The closest motel is 40 miles from here,” replied the man, waving his hand to the side. “You’ll get there by the morning,” he grinned. His *Hoch Deutsch [*standardised German] was flawless. “You can spend the night here.” The man nodded towards the house.

I agreed without hesitation. I slept like a log and didn’t have any dreams. The bed and the pillow felt like the greatest inventions of mankind.

I woke up early to drizzling rain pounding outside. The small room he’d offered me was dark and cool. In the corner, an old clock was loudly ticking away. It was 5.30am. The owner of the house was walking around. I could hear the creaking of floorboards. I stretched and was about to get up when I saw a dog and startled. A large black Labrador was sitting in the middle of the room and was staring at me.

“Alicia” called the voice of the man, and the dog jumped up and ran out of the room.

I got dressed and followed her through the living room and into the kitchen, which emitted the wonderful aroma of fresh coffee. The man was conjuring something up at the stove. Alicia, the unusually named dog, was sitting next to him, apparently waiting for breakfast.