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`Advice, eh,’ said the old woman again. `Just sort of general advice, you say. On what? What to do with your life, that sort of thing?’

`Yes,’ said Arthur. `That sort of thing. Bit of a problem I sometimes find if I’m being perfectly honest.’ He was trying desperately, with tiny darting movements, to stay upwind of her. She surprised him by suddenly turning sharply away from him and heading off towards her cave.

`You’ll have to help me with the photocopier, then,’ she said.

`What?’ said Arthur.

`The photocopier,’ she repeated, patiently. `You’ll have to help me drag it out. It’s solar-powered. I have to keep it in the cave, though, so the birds don’t shit on it.’

`I see,’ said Arthur.

`I’d take a few deep breaths if I were you,’ muttered the old woman, as she stomped into the gloom of the cave mouth.

Arthur did as she advised. He almost hyperventilated in fact. When he felt he was ready, he held his breath and followed her in.

The photocopier was a big old thing on a rickety trolley. It stood just inside the dim shadows of the cave. The wheels were stuck obstinately in different directions and the ground was rough and stony.

`Go ahead and take a breath outside,’ said the old woman. Arthur was going red in the face trying to help her move the thing.

He nodded in relief. If she wasn’t going to be embarrassed about it then neither, he was determined, would he. He stepped outside and took a few breaths, then came back in to do more heaving and pushing. He had to do this quite a few times till at last the machine was outside.

The sun beat down on it. The old woman disappeared back into her cave again and brought with her some mottled metal panels, which she connected to the machine to collect the sun’s energy.

She squinted up into the sky. The sun was quite bright, but the day was hazy and vague.

`It’ll take a while,’ she said.

Arthur said he was happy to wait.

The old woman shrugged and stomped across to the fire. Above it, the contents of the tin can were bubbling away. She poked about at them with a stick.

`You won’t be wanting any lunch?’ she enquired of Arthur.

`I’ve eaten, thanks,’ said Arthur. `No, really. I’ve eaten.’

`I’m sure you have,’ said the old lady. She stirred with the stick. After a few minutes she fished a lump of some- thing out, blew on it to cool it a little, and then put it in her mouth.

She chewed on it thoughtfully for a bit.

Then she hobbled slowly across to the pile of dead goat-like things. She spat the lump out on to the pile. She hobbled slowly back to the can. She tried to unhook it from the sort of tripod-like thing that it was hanging from.

`Can I help you?’ said Arthur, jumping up politely. He hurried over.

Together they disengaged the tin from the tripod and carried it awkwardly down the slight slope that led downwards from her cave and towards a line of scrubby and gnarled trees, which marked the edge of a steep but quite shallow gully, from, which a whole new range of offensive smells was emanating.

`Ready?’ said the old Lady.

`Yes…’ said Arthur, though he didn’t know for what.

`One,’ said the old lady.

`Two,’ she said.

`Three,’ she added.

Arthur realised just in time what she intended. Together they tossed the contents of the tin into the gully.

After an hour or two of uncommunicative silence, the old woman decided that the solar panels had absorbed enough sunlight to run the photocopier now and she disappeared to rummage inside her cave. She emerged at last with a few sheaves of paper and fed them through the machine.

She handed the copies to Arthur.

`This is, er, this your advice then, is it?’ said Arthur, leafing through them uncertainly.

`No,’ said the old lady. `It’s the story of my life. You see, the quality of any advice anybody has to offer has to be judged against the quality of life they actually lead. Now, as you look through this document you’ll see that I’ve underlined all the major decisions I ever made to make them stand out. They’re all indexed and cross-referenced. See? All I can suggest is that if you take decisions that are exactly opposite to the sort of decisions that I’ve taken, then maybe you won’t finish up at the end of your life…’ she paused, and filled her lungs for a good shout, `… in a smelly old cave like this!’

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