“You live a somewhat mysterious life,” the slim tall big-hair lady in the dark power suit and high heels that were sinking a little into thin sand said to me, and, “I do a little, lately,” I agreed, before continuing with, “increasingly lately, obviously,” but then I added, “I don’t create the mystery though, the mystery creates me,” to which she said “eh?” to which I said, “think about it,” to which she said, “You like being mysterious don’t you?” to which I said, “I have no choice, for the mystery…” but before I could finish with my perhaps annoying repetition she snapped, “shut up!” but she was smiling, with a big white-toothed grin set brighter by the shocking red lipstick that seemed just a little more than way too much to me, so I did indeed shut up, and I smiled too. I doubt if we will ever meet again, mysteriously. I rather hope not. I turned and looked at the aircraft carrier in Rosyth dockyard, some distance away to the west, and I thought about my past few days, in Cheltenham, then Cumbria, then what could loosely be described as a laboratory, then a lecture room, then an Edinburgh restaurant, then North Queensferry, near Rosyth... and I started "joining the dots", as some people like to say, to construct a tale that might, some day, develop, as fact and fiction and faction all mixed up, mysteriously. It will take many more than 39 steps to get there though, and I am not sure I have enough steps left to make that walk, or if I really should. This one step is quite enough, meantime, for tonight. I am very tired, but I cannot sleep.