A deeply-lined face of pasty-white skin, framed with braids of wiry blond hair, wearing knickers and high yellow socks, like a full-sized munchkin Fred lives upstairs, strumming a guitar, a few feet above my head, leaving only to close a bar.

Roland was an alcoholic actor who paced the attic of a communal mansion, pounding the floor with a cane, cursing at phantoms out turret window, his three-legged dog-from-hell hobbling outside, slobbering/pissing on whatever he could.