As a child, I was afraid of the dark—not the dark itself, but what I imagined it contained: bad spirits, monsters, and men with weapons.
I identified with Plop, the baby barn owl who learns that the dark can be exciting and wonderful, even if I wasn't fully convinced of its beauty.
My reading of Phyllis Arkle's Magic at Midnight helped reframe night-time as a magical space, where animals climbed down from pub signs at midnight.
Leaving Nottingham for east London, I adored the streetlight's orange glow, which comforted me like a city-wide nightlight, even as I now need total darkness.
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