There was a day in my life when I landed in Heaven and learned that the real name of the place was California.
Here is how it happened;
I don't know about you, but I never knew what Holland cloth was, or what it could do till one day in 1963, when I took my nightie hanging to dry on grandma's clothes rope, threw it on the floor of our balcony, and stepped on it. It turned into a tall ship (the nightie, you understand, not the balcony). It was the ship of my dreams, for that glorious morning my nightie and I took off and sailed high up in the sky all the way to the top of St. Michael's tower (you know, right by where the golden cross is), and from there I could see the whole town below, and grandma on the balcony looking up and down and left and right, sort of puzzled, as if asking herself: "Now where on Earth could that girl be, I swear she was here just a minute ago?"