Last December, on one of those surreal days ‘twixt Christmas and the New Year, I found myself wide awake at 6:30am in a house full of gently snoring relatives. I felt as excited as an Enid Blyton character on a quest for adventure as I leapt from bed, into my clothes and out of the sleeping house.
Shrouded in freezing fog and sparkling with frost, the deserted streets were magical. A pale sun was just making its appearance as I alighted from the train and went in search of a particularly lovely river view.
I searched in vain. There was nothing to see but fog; a blank wall denying the existence of any river. It was eerie and enchanting, but also disconcerting. Peering into the whiteness, I could no longer imagine the familiar scenery.
Today I find myself equally befogged, staring hopelessly at a blank screen which refuses obstinately to reveal what I’m struggling to find. I have no questions to answer, no quirky theme to explore or axe to grind.
But life’s like that… some days the sun shines, others we’re lost in the fog