Two weeks holidaying on top of the cliffs, overlooking the sea and ragged rocks of Cornwall. Sea mist rolling in, invisible hands unfurling a white carpet across the bay between the cliffs either side. Nature’s magic moment.
This morning, the mist cleared quickly, there between the sky and the edge of the sea sat an island that didn’t belong there.
How can the mist have carried an island into view like something from Gulliver’s Travels?
No, wait. I believe I am looking at Avalon, the island where Arthur was carried by the blind ferryman to heal, while Merlin watched…