My daughter tells me to get to the bus-stop ten minutes early. The bus-stop is less than a minute walk from our house. If the bus arrives early it never waits. If you’re early, the bus will be late. Ahhh…c’est la vie.

There’s a man, an angry man, older, not from here. He hates it when we park here — park at the back of his shop. Sometimes we sit longer than we should, waiting for our children — blocking the spaces for customers. Most of the time, we try to be quick. Five minutes max. That’s what’s been asked of us.

M is for: mingle, mangle, mad, mongoose, made, make, mock, millipede, mother, mum, minute, margarita, microphone, moisture, McDonalds, myth, magic…

Remembering the last house my grandmother lived in, a house that fitted into an awkward corner made by two roads in a town by the sea on the North Norfolk coast.

My husband read me this article the other night. Let me see if I can remember it correctly. It's a good'un.

I love a good ghost story. Horror not so much. But ghosts, paranormal activity, even the odd UFO encounter here and there, I feel drawn to them. I know. It all sounds so absurd, these things that go bump in the night. And yet.

For a few weeks at a time, I develop a regular habit of writing down snippets of conversation I hear, stories on the radio and various scenarios I see when I'm out and about.