My grandfather and I were free spirits and generally immune to rules about anything to do with bedtimes or suitable television viewing. I remember dastardly plots, secret rooms, ice-cold characters. Horror and the supernatural on a Saturday night, with the fire lit and the horse brasses glinting. I was all of a wriggle, eyes wide and ready to be amazed.
Although Peaches in the Attic is an adult piece, it is approved by my teenage nieces, who rate it as 'excellently evil'.
My new story, Strings, is pure science fiction. At least I hope it is! Apocalyptic, in a horribly playful sort of way...