Saga, the Norse Goddess of Story wandered over the Icelandic plains. It was late winter and everything around her was surrounded in gloom. Saga herself was all of a dither for she didn’t know which way go or which stories to nurture. Things on planet Earth were going from bad to worse and so many of the stories people told each other were ending badly. Chaos was rearing it’s ugly head left, right and centre. “It’s all going to hell in a hand basket,” Saga muttered to herself.

Far in the east the first light of the returning sun glowed dimly. As it gathered strength landmarks began to emerge from the gloom. Directly in front of her Saga spied a signpost with direction markers pointing every which way.

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