I will confess to having an attack of nerves at the moment, nothing significant (more akin to the anxieties I have about a zombie apocalypse occasionally, my mind tells me its irrational but something about it sets me on edge) but enough to be noticeable. The reason?
“I’m not talking to you, you are a bloody idiot.“
Sometimes you spot odd things out of the corner of your eye when you are driving that just demand you do a bit of investigating.
I’ve been thinking about Kasper Hauser recently – no this isn’t me admitting secret feelings for a diminutive German foundling – and that it seems to have been an age since we had a good, honest fortean mystery.