THINGS THAT GO “GAAAGH!” IN THE NIGHT.

Don’t they say to young bucks ‘If you want to know how your future wife will turn out, take a close look at her mother’? As a maid, I might have considered applying that adage to the opposite gender and given these words careful thought on that dark night when, waking suddenly to the terrifying cacophony of a not-too-distant jackhammer blasting with metronomic regularity, I saw an ominous vision of the future....

Mission Impossible

‘Hey, kids, it’s Harvest Festival in church on Thur—‘ ‘NOPE!’ And that was it. No more discussion. Finito. Period. Fin. As we approach our thirteenth anniversary of resident status here in Nunburnholme I cast my mind back to the ways in which we have become enveloped into the bosom of this tiny rural community. The...