The Nightshade Hall

I grew up in Shakespeare country, which sounds rather more high-brow than it actually was. For most of my childhood I was a tree-climbing, bike-riding, dirt-smeared tomboy. I did, however, inherit a lifelong love of stories, history and the slightly stranger corners of human experience. I wish I had become a prolific (and rich) playwright, but sadly I lacked the attention span required. Shakespeare, who is a distant cousin many times removed by the way, would have been so disappointed.

The person I am today is largely down to my mum. She introduced me to Star Trek at an early age and, as a result, I have been happily wandering around the final frontier ever since. She was all about Spock, followed by Captain Picard. I was always a Data girl myself, until Karl Urban was cast as Dr McCoy in the Kelvin-verse. At that point I was forced to reconsider my entire android obsession.

Mum also taught me to knit. Or, more accurately, she taught me how to cast on, knit and purl and then, in the finest tradition of a boomer parent raising a Gen X child, basically left me to sink or swim on my own. Fortunately, I swam. There has been a considerable amount of yarn in my life ever since.

My love of history came from another important influence in my childhood: my favourite uncle. His house was stuffed with history books, and I spent a great deal of time surrounded by them, gawping in awe at photos of ancient statues and golden burial masks. It probably wasn't surprising, then, that I went on to study archaeology at university.

Archaeology appealed to the part of me that has always wanted to know what happened to the people who came before us. There's something wonderfully humbling about handling an object made, used or discarded by somebody who lived hundreds or thousands of years ago and wondering what their life was like, and how their spirit lingers in the landscapes they left behind.

My grandfather contributed another, somewhat darker, strand to my interests. His house was also full of books, but his collection had a considerably more macabre flavour. Between those books and the general influence of growing up surrounded by stories of murder, mystery and things that go bump in the night, it is entirely his fault that, like many women of a certain age, I now watch and read an unhealthy amount of true crime.

So the short version is that I am a writer, reader, knitter, archaeology enthusiast, science-fiction fan and habitual collector of obscure facts. I like old stories, new stories, ghosts, history, folklore, strange alien worlds and comfortable places to read a book.

And, naturally, as a middle aged woman, I reserve the right to become very annoyed by the state of the world and the idiots running it.

Welcome to the Hall. Try not to wake the cat.