Over Easter weekend I went to Margate to visit my brother and his girlfriend with my dad. Basically, it’s a journey directly east across the country, mainly on the motorways. On the way there I fell asleep before we left Cardiff, and woke up near Reading. On the way back, I fell asleep for about an hour. Most of the rest of the time was spent reading; there’s not a lot to really look at on that journey.
We arrived on Good Friday. Went out in Margate in the evening and by Saturday I realized I desperately needed a notebook. Not that I was planning on doing some serious writing, just something to jot things down in. Despite having countless notebooks at home, I’d forgotten to throw one in my bag when we left. (The perils of packing while hungover last minute because of a decision to go for ‘one or two’ drinks the night before)
Luckily for me, we were going on a day trip to Canterbury. There were two things I wanted that I thought I would easily be able to get hold of; a nice notebook, and a copy of Canterbury Tales.
As it turned out, I was wrong.
I didn’t get either in Canterbury, though I did fall in love with the place. It’s a beautiful city with a lot of history behind it, and it was just a shame we couldn’t spend more time there to look into the museums or the cathedral. But I did pick up a couple of books at an awesome charity bookshop, had lunch in a lovely pub, and got really, really freaked out by something I saw there.
By the way, I don’t like dolls. Or dummies. They scare me. And what I saw involved dolls, and it was…strange. Very strange. I won’t go into too much detail here but it has now inspired a short story.
So as soon as we got back to Margate and stopped at Tesco, I grabbed myself a cheap notebook. Nothing fancy, just something I could jot down ideas in.
This notebook is now going to live n whatever bag I am carrying with me at the time. Because whether it’s Margate or just going out for a day trip, ideas can strike anywhere and at any time. It’s one of the first rules as a writer and one I’ve let myself down on, a lot. Always carry a notebook and pen. Always.
Lesson learnt. Because, really, you never know when you’ll see something that creeps you out enough to make you think it might just make a good horror story to creep out other people, too.