Beginnings

I did not move to Septford, it somehow came to me. The exact date of its arrival escapes me, but it was cold and I remember the orange of the early morning sun low in the sky over our new town. This proved to be an omen, but only in retrospect, which leaves me wondering about the value of omens. The orange glow. A colour in search of a mate. A union which would define our new town, something to put on the coat of arms. The Mayor arrived later in the week, possibly by email rather than as a result of an election. Magisterial. Petronius the Great. Similarly for the councillors. Magical. Magnificant. Magenta.