Prince Philip (the tortoise previously known as Lenin) is half way dug into the soft earth along the church wall. The question is: should I haul him out by the back legs, tap him on the snout and tell him to get digging harder, winter draw(er)s on? Or should I assume he knows what he is doing and it's only his front end that is cold at night while, during these glorious days, he pops out and suns himself?
Or should I act as if he has fallen fast asleep in the middle of getting under ground and bury his rear end in compost? Queen Elizabeth II (formerly etc., Rosa Luxemburg) has disappeared weeks ago. But we all know she's a little minx and leads poor Lenin/Philip quite a dance.
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