Ages ago, Tiverton, Ashley Cottage
College. Devon. 300 Miles away from home. I was first to arrive at the 18th century cottage that would be home for a year. Middle of nowhere. it's already early evening, and dark.

No problem, i get to choose the best room. A quick scout and i'm sorted.

but the place doesn't feel easy. it feels... mhmm... creepy...

then i start to wonder, after a few hours as we do in situations like these... and after my 15th coffee and after no-one arrives... if i should actually do a more thorough check around the house before i retire to bed...

i pick up a knife. as you do. and go around the rooms, opening wardrobes... looking under beds...

i work myself up into a bit of a state as i do this...

then i return downstairs and try to lock the front door... and fail. the key doesn't fit, so i go out the side door, into the field, now armed not only with a knife but also a motorcross boot, i make it to the front door and lock it from the other side...

i return inside.

The i realise whilst locking the front door i left the side door open, and have to do another search of the house.

nothing. phew.

it is at this point, all locked in and safe, i notice the under stairs cupboard. it's big enough for a person to stand in....

there was no shitting way i was going to bed without checking it.

i check it. it's clear. just an ancient hoover inside and some old carpet. phew.

i make another coffee... the last one before bed, and sit down thinking myself pretty stupid and it is at this point the under stairs cupboard door flies open and the hoover falls out. i'm about 5 feet away from it and shit myself throwing scalding coffee fucking everywhere.

i didn't sleep very well that night. and as it turned out the place was haunted, but that's another story.
(Nobody Likes Mortal Wombat, Sat 24 Feb 2007, 6:05, Reply)