Perhaps It Was The Doctor.
Storytime!
Once upon a time, when I was a fairly small Riona and my brother Joseph was even smaller, he and my (also small) cousin came up to me in a state of great agitation and swore they had seen an alien in my room. It was tall and grey, I seem to recall, and had somehow exited through the window.
Because I was not quite small enough to be entirely credulous about such things, I went into my room to investigate, and my brother followed. (My cousin, I think, may have refused to go in.)
There was a small grey pebble on the inside windowsill, and my brother decided that the alien must have left it there. I was beginning to see what was going on here: they had put a pebble on my windowsill, and now they were trying to persuade me that an alien had been in my room. Well, I wasn't falling for that.
"Look, it's only a pebble," I said, reaching out towards it.
"Don't touch it!" my brother exclaimed.
I touched it.
It exploded.
I have no idea how such a ripe puffball had managed to grow on my window without my noticing, but it certainly made for a traumatic childhood experience.
Shall we share amusing stories about our childhoods in the comments to this entry? I think that could be quite fun. (Whilst we're on the subject: I've been short-sighted since birth, but I didn't have my eyes tested until I was seven or so. Because it is difficult to see rain when one is short-sighted, I used to think it was invisible, like wind. One day, when it was raining particularly heavily, I realised I could actually see the rain if I concentrated hard enough. I thought I had superpowers.)
Once upon a time, when I was a fairly small Riona and my brother Joseph was even smaller, he and my (also small) cousin came up to me in a state of great agitation and swore they had seen an alien in my room. It was tall and grey, I seem to recall, and had somehow exited through the window.
Because I was not quite small enough to be entirely credulous about such things, I went into my room to investigate, and my brother followed. (My cousin, I think, may have refused to go in.)
There was a small grey pebble on the inside windowsill, and my brother decided that the alien must have left it there. I was beginning to see what was going on here: they had put a pebble on my windowsill, and now they were trying to persuade me that an alien had been in my room. Well, I wasn't falling for that.
"Look, it's only a pebble," I said, reaching out towards it.
"Don't touch it!" my brother exclaimed.
I touched it.
It exploded.
I have no idea how such a ripe puffball had managed to grow on my window without my noticing, but it certainly made for a traumatic childhood experience.
Shall we share amusing stories about our childhoods in the comments to this entry? I think that could be quite fun. (Whilst we're on the subject: I've been short-sighted since birth, but I didn't have my eyes tested until I was seven or so. Because it is difficult to see rain when one is short-sighted, I used to think it was invisible, like wind. One day, when it was raining particularly heavily, I realised I could actually see the rain if I concentrated hard enough. I thought I had superpowers.)