No idea; I assume that I was just born this way. Or it might have been my dad’s fault: his bed time stories were old Scottish poems about ghosts and witches. When I was twelve, I asked for and got the collected short stories of Edgar Allan Poe. The next year it was Ray Bradbury. I liked to wander alone around the graveyard next to our street (once at night – with a torch).
Interview: Carole Johnstone
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