In Borsetshire the eldritch mists have gone. Or rather, have been replaced with a blanket of knitted fog. On the drive in this morning things loomed. Lots of things. It seems I must have upset the local countryfolk somehow.
How can I tell? Well they all seem to be looming out of the fog on the wrong side of the road. Mine that is. And with visibility down to 20 yards (approx 18m for metric readers) this made for a tricksy drive all round. There were three landies, two of them pulling horseboxes, one horsebox, unattached, abandoned roadside but pointing in the wrong direction, sundry well camouflaged dog walkers ambling kamikaze style in combats(!), one bike, sundry pigeons, a plethora of street urchins in Edwardian costume, and at least one soot begrimed chimney sweep with an execrable cockney accent*.
So here's the thing, with all this mayhem on the roads, how come I managed to get in to the surgery a full fifteen minutes earlier than normal, even after the usual ten minutes delay in intended departure time as the kids played their ritual game of hunt the sports kit / homework / wossname-- oh really Dad, you know, that thingy.....
Seems that the Ambridge fog distorts the fabric of the space time continuum or opens up some kind of wormhole effect to speed the passage of the big red bus. So now here I am expecting the sudden arrival of Daleks and Cybermen in my wake. Still we should be ok. After all I am the Doctor.
Now where did I put that sonic screwdriver?
* the last two only come out in the fog to "charm" our American cousins. Them and Nannies flying their umbrellas.