March 2 Appeal over ‘German wall’ mystery

Harold paced out the distance between his front door and the wall once more. Twenty two paces, seventy odd feet thereabout. Not too far enough away for him to have failed to hear it's erection during the previous evening, yet he had slept like a baby, ein kinder even.

The wall was made of large bricks, each double the size of a regular brick and it encircled the whole of his property like a miniature cooling tower or a garden wall on steroids with no doorway yet as the wall was no more than seven foot he'd been able to clamber over and back again a number of times during the day. The first time he got over the wall he read ' welcome to berlin' daubed on the outside. The word Berlin didn't have a capital B and this too irritated him but not as much as being incarcerated whilst he was sleeping.

Forty four paces there and back, Harold pulled a chair from the kitchen out and set it facing his new wall wondering what to do next (as the sun would set a little earlier than usual he had brought a cardie). Against his better judgement Harold felt a hint of excitement at interruption to his life and wondered whether he needed to rush into making hasty decisions, he was after all getting more exercise now he had to climb a wall to leave home.