This morning, for the first time in a very long time, it was really quite foggy here in Prague. We live at the top of a hill and it was quite bizarre driving up the hill into the fog. For a moment, my imagination was off and I half expected to emerge on the other side of the foggy wall in a parallel universe. Most disappointingly, I didn’t.

When I was a boy, there seemed to be much more fog. Maybe there was as in industrial Britain of the 1960’s it was smog rather than fog that we were dealing with. Perhaps, it was just Hull situated between the coast and the River Humber on the flat plains of Holderness. Always damp and cold, fog just seemed a natural part of the landscape. I recall walking to school in the thickest fog. So thick, you could hide a few feet away from people safely enveloped in thick white mist. It made the world seem mysterious as with only a foot or two of vision, that space took on more importance so that you really saw what was there. It focused your vision I guess. It was a safe sort of magical feeling that I have not experienced in many years.

By now the mornings fog has burned off and the Sun streams through my window. As I look down the street, I can see Prague below us reflecting back from the valley. Its an impressive view but it doesn’t photograph very well unfortunately.

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Meanwhile, my memory is full of foggy days and foggy fun playing hide and seek in the stuff with my brothers and friends. Fog is like a blanket white canvas on which you can project your imagination and as children, we did.

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