Pancake Tuesday. I make some pancakes for Harold. I nearly drop them as I clamber over the wall. I knock on his door. He doesn’t answer. I don’t know what to do: I would hate to waste the pancakes.
I decide to push the pancakes one by one through the letterbox.
There are seven pancakes in total.
Later on it occurs to me that this was foolish.
Fortunately, the next time we meet, Harold makes no mention of the pancakes-through-his-letterbox.
Perhaps he suspects it was someone else. I say nothing.