Eight Years I Have Waited

Eight years I have waited and they still keep me hanging on.

Like a lot of others, I watched last night’s episode of Game of Thrones and was glued to my sofa. My wife and daughters were also glued; we stick together in times of distress. And how more distressing can it get to have a whole bunch of daisy pushers come rushing at you from out of a very freak weather-event?

I have been watching people’s faces in the programme in an attempt to try to gain insight into their next move. Yet it was the face of the Night King himself, overlord of the underdead, who caught my eye. At one moment he was hinting at a somewhat disappointed smirk (is that all you’ve got? My Dragon bites harder than that) and then he moved through the gears and into a slight cloud of confusion. Just why was the three-eyed boy/bird in the wheel chair so relaxed?

Answer was, Big Sis had his back.

Now not deads are returned to the ashes and only Jaimie’s sister awaits.

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