I’ve just realised I’ve made a grave mathematical error when counting the number of posts remaining until the 250th. I thought that, after today, there would be 2 more posts and then it would be the 250th. But I was wrong. After 2 more posts we will only be on the 249th. Aaargh!

Still, never one to abandon an idea, no matter how flawed it may be, I’m pressing on regardless. I’ll sneak an extra post in somewhere between now and then, so the 250th post will be the 250th post. If you see what I mean?

Anyway, I’ve combed the blog and dug out The Idea Fairy for you to look back at today. Those of you who struggle to come up with ideas for your own stories might find it useful.

And for today’s glimpse into my damaged psyche, we’re going to take a look at yet another thing that used to terrify me as a child…

SQUIRRELS!

For pretty much my entire life I have been blessed – or cursed, I often think – with a highly over active imagination. When I should be doing every day tasks – washing the car, loading the dishwasher, and so on – my mind is miles away, imagining what would happen if the car started spraying water back at me, or the dishwasher begged me not to fill its mouth with dirty plates.

It has always been the case. In any given situation I will usually imagine at least one or two bizarre things that might happen to change the situation, usually resulting in me becoming completely distracted and failing to carry out whatever task I was doing in the first place.

The first time I thought of my imagination as a curse was when I was about six or seven. I was in Aberdeen, visiting my grandmother, and was walking through a park. In the middle of the path I came across a dead squirrel. And I mean it was a really dead squirrel. It had guts poking out through its eye, limbs snapped off – it really was the deadest squirrel you can imagine.

As I looked down at the squirrel, my first thought was “That’s a shame. Poor squirrel.”

My second thought, however, was “What if it comes back to life? And jumps up and grabs me by the face, and starts clawing out my eyes?”

I then went on to picture this zombie squirrel leaping up and attacking me so clearly, that I instantly gave myself an intense squirrel phobia. Now, if I see a squirrel – even on TV – I’m reminded of that monstrosity on the path, pretending to be squashed and lifeless, but secretly lying in wait to jump up and catch the first unsuspecting child to wander by.

I may have left the park with a lifelong fear of the things, but all things considered, I reckon I got off lightly.