Spinning a yarn
My late grandmother’s father was Irish. And to be honest I definitely have a touch of the blarney - whatever that means. In my mind I think it means I’m fiery, stubborn, creative and perhaps prone to over-exaggerating. It also means, as Athol Fugard says fairly frequently of his own Irish father, that I love to spin a yarn. As a child I could tell the most terrifying ghost stories - ask Edu Boettiger. They were properly bad. Because I had made them up they didn’t really affect me but the rest of the populace of children in Winterton born between the years of 1983 and 1990 may beg to differ. I also thought I was bringing magic into my baby sister’s world by telling her intricate stories about how her Barbies came to life every night. The details were a little bit too real for her and ended in some terrible nightmares for her. Basically I did Elf On The Shelf thirty years ago and the results weren’t great. In my time I’ve got people to believe in fairies and Hogwarts, The Eas...