Just call me Misty.

The World turns and within the grand scheme of things the mists part, revelations are revealed and the plot thickens… such is life eh?

When the whole picture is obscured nothing is as it seems; nothing, however skilfully hidden, remains invisible for ever – the mists part giving a slight glimpse, for a second or two and pieces of the jigsaw fall into place.

The picture is not always a nice one; no bowls of over blown roses here, or rosey faced children playing with smiling Mother in the cottage garden, thatched roof n all, no, not with this one – more of a cauldron bubbling over a fire, tended by many but with one who directs the placing of the firewood, like a general on a battle field, barking orders but never taking part in the blood and gore, just in case the old uniform should get dirty old boy! Heavens, we wouldn’t want any blood on our hands either! But the blood soaks in anyway… such is life. Burnt fingers singed in the coals.

While the contents of the cauldron have not yet been seen, for the mists closed in just then y’see – they have been hinted at… so we wait until the next time, diligently donning overcoats and pulling on warm fluffy socks, knowing that the friend of my friend will part the mists and we can peep in, just for a sec…

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