If storms are bad portents, then let’s hope Ophelia fucks off somewhere else. The one that Michael Fish so spectacularly failed to predict thirty years ago, ripped part of our roof off, the fucker that fixed it came back a month later and robbed us when we were out at work. I had to stop working shifts because MLSOH was terrified of being at home alone, our mortgage suffered and we ended up back in a Council house. I was twenty one and MLSOH was ten days away from her twenty first. Karma took her swift and poetic retribution on the scumbag builder, we moved house and I went back to my old job. This set in motion a series of incredible coincidences that led to us being where we are today.
I’ll tell two stories from this little one, the haunted house, and the tale of the coincidences.