Tangled

The weather is still very mild and the baskets on the High Street look fabulous.  There is an Autumnal feel to some of the shop windows and the  first Christmas window has yet to appear.

It's only a matter of time though. The thoughts in my head feel like tangled wool;  I will pick a loose end and tug on it for a while until it feels like it will be OK and then, without warning,  it pings back into the tangle, with whatever it was about, sometimes better and sometimes worse than before.

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