1. What's the name of your favourite pub?
Never thought I'd have a favourite pub, but MTBs would be the one 
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2. What celebrity do you most read about right now?
None. The occasional movie star, but not really.
3. Have you ever slid down a stair case railing, or climb a tree?
Naturally 
4. When you were a child, what did you want to be when you grew up, and did you ever get to do that?
Wanted to be a teacher for some reason so, although I'm teaching English and not maths, yeah 
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5. If you could only drink and eat five things for the rest of your life, what would they be?
Copella - apple and elderflower pressed juice (lightly chilled)
Mangoes
Crisps (pretty much any type)
Mum's home-made lasagne
Chocolate
6. Three favourite music groups at the moment?
Show of Hands, Ben Folds, Snow Patrol
7. Three favouirte books at the moment?
Only reading Jonathan Strange and Dr Norrell at the moment, and I haven't read much else in a few months, but Neil Gaiman's Smoke and Mirrors and Stephen King's Shawshank Redemption were both well worth reading.
8. If you were going to spend an evening with one person, who would that be?
You.
9. Sartre said that "Hell is other people." Who would be your hell?
Me.
10. What section of the newspaper do you traditionally read first, and what section do you read last?
I actually never got into the whole reading the newspaper thing, so I'd have to say the cartoons to both .
Now for that short story. Do you notice anything strange about it?
Friday 13th
So, I’m not living, but I know my rights. You can’t just bury my body six down and think I’ll stay put. That’s not on. I’ll climb out, again and again; I’ll just carry on climbing. I won’t put up with staying in this rotting pool of sorrow, particularly as most wouldn’t know what I am.
Oh, you think you would? You think a walking human carcass is an obvious thing to spot? It’s not. A month, that’s how long I hung about a local pub, just itching to go in, watching all of you sitting around with your pints, cool, bracing liquid flowing down your throats on a hot, spring day.
You just don’t grasp how unfulfilling it is not having a spirit, a soul, an opportunity to go through boring, daily motions with that knowing joy of fantastic things constantly occurring around you. How can you discount all individuals of sub-living status just for having such unlucky conditions? I know, I display a slightly dirty odour to your sanity, but pity is a word you should think upon. I would thank you for it.
Anyway, today is a day I don’t mind. Friday 13th. A day anything can go wrong, and probably will, so I’ll snatch my own count of humour and fun as I punish you all for ignoring such a sad individual, as I know I am. I’ll think of a prank so brilliantly all-consuming that it will multiply out in strips of disastrous actions that rip into any spirits and minds that try to stand against it.
No, I don’t know what it is just now, but I’ll think on it, and as Friday 13th looms, I’ll bask in your worry. Is it this Friday? Is it now? How will you know? And any bad things that occur during now and that day you join us, you’ll think was that it? Was that him punishing us, or was it just foul luck? And so, Friday 13th will always haunt you as a day awful things hit hard.
