The town was strange, even stranger than it had seemed at first. It was inhabited by shadows, and those shadows talked about it in a strange way. It transpired that all the barometers in this town always showed “fair”, no matter what the weather was – if there was any. All the towns’ streets led to the North – even if you went in the opposite direction, you’d still end up in the North.
There were weathercocks in the town, too. Every night they would gather together and creak on about something known only to them, but in the morning they would all amicably face in opposite directions.
The clocks in the town would go forwards for half a day, then backwards for half a day. Twice every twenty-four hours the hands would overlap and the clocks washed their hands. Water dripped onto the cobbles
