I'd hinted that I wasn't going to do it, but in the end I gave in. I spent about 4 hours yesterday relocating Spireclaw from its own dedicated website to my main site. I'm keen to get everything under one roof, and it's all pretty much done now, with the exception of this blog, which I can't move until those pesky programmers at Moonfruit build RSS functionality into SiteMaker. Anyway, the story's just as spooky as its always been, so head over to the website to read it.
I woke up early this morning on my 50th birthday. It was as bright outside as it would ever be at 5am due to it being the summer solstice, the longest period of daylight time. From here on, the nights get longer. Sitting in bed with a cup of tea I started to think about some of the first stories I wrote, and a few memories came back to me. The first thing I remember writing was in my penultimate year in primary school, so we're talking 1983-4. Successfully combining two major phobias of mine, it was called "Tarantursnake" and took up a whopping four pages of my English workbook. I remember getting a decent mark for it, but the only thing I could remember from the story itself was a man hanging on for dear life to a pole suspended over a pit of tarantursnakes. In fact, that may have been the whole thing. I'm not so sure it followed any conventional rules of narrative. Later, in 1987, in high school, a collection of us smuggled copies of the newly published paperback of
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