We were back in business. Baldness and children still a long way over the horizon.
Without further mishap, aside from my friend planting his white shoe in a glistening cluster of sheep dung, we made it to the tower.
At the top of the plinth there was an arched door.
It was slightly ajar and propped shut by a house brick. We surveyed the landscape once more. The coast was clear. I picked up the brick. I have always been something of an expert when it comes to bypassing high-tech security systems.
Inside, we were met with a beautiful sight: white steps cleanly cut and rising in a spiral.
Bravely, I stepped back and allowed my friend to lead the way.