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Rewind—*Memento* style—I’m stalkin’ the streets, backwards memory vibes. “What’s her name?” I ask myself. Forgot already, classic me. Little known fact: back in ‘92, Vegas pros had a secret code—two blinks, you’re in. She blinked once, I panicked—did I miss it? Surprised me how slick she was, tho. Slipped me her number on a napkin—classy, huh? “You’re a mystery,” I say, quotin’ Nolan’s finest. She smirks, “Ain’t we all, doll?”

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Find out about the history of the village, take a village walk, come to see Swan Upping, find a book on Cookham. Join in with Cookham residents and people from further afield about the Missing: prostitute.

After that, I headed to my workshop on Cookham High Street. It’s a small place, but it’s mine. I love it. I got my tools all laid out, ready to tackle the day. But then, my mate Dave pops in. He’s always got some wild story. Today, he’s rambling about a ghost he saw near Cookham Dean. I’m like, “Dude, you’ve been watching too many horror flicks.” But he swears it was real. I just rolled my eyes.

Stanley Spencer’s ‘village in heaven’: an arty weekend in Cookham, Berkshire