The Not-so-Fantastic Mr Fox.

After the horror story that unfolded at Craven Cottage yesterday (Liverpool losing 1- 3 to Fulham), my enthusiasm for writing a Halloween-related blog has been diminished. However, chatting with my pupil, Nicola, the other day reminded me of a chilling experience that happened to me 25 years ago.
During the 1980s Nicola lived in Edlesborough, a small village near Leighton Buzzard, at the foot of the Chilterns, while I lived a couple of miles away, in a village called Totternhoe. In 1984 the area was shocked by a series of armed rapes, burlaries and assaults that were being commited by the same masked person (Malcolm Fairley) and one of the most horrific attacks took place in Edlesborough. You can read a summary of this at http://www.stalbansreview.co.uk/news/453104.the_hunt_for_the_fox/.
There were was a palpable sense of fear; hardware shops sold out of window locks and security equipment, no-one would leave windows open, and people kept all manner of improvised weapons beneath their pillows. Everyone was terrified. Fairley, wearing a balaclava, would break into houses, make 'dens' out of furniture, then sit in this den, watching television, waiting for the residents to return. Because of this behaviour, the press and the locals referred to him as 'The Fox'.

I was 18 at the time. One Saturday night, in the middle of this Summer, I was out with friends in Leighton Buzzard. Somehow, I missed my lift home. The last bus had gone and my parents were away on holiday, so I had no choice but to walk the 5 miles home, along dark, country lanes; my heart pumping everytime I saw car headlights.
As I have said, my parents (and youngest brother, Chris) were away, on holiday. My other brother, Ian, was also away, on holiday with friends in Dorset, meaning I was on my own for the weekend. So, as I rounded the last corner, and could finally see the sanctuary of home, I was puzzled to see a couple of lights on downstairs - I had gone out when it was daylight, so was sure I had not turned on any lights. My puzzlement turned to anxiety when I saw that the back door was unlocked; I had definitely locked it. What should I do? There were only a couple of nearby houses, but it was far too late at night for me to knock on their doors and tell them that I was worried because our house was unlocked. I edged in to the kitchen and strained to listen for any sounds... nothing. One of the lights that had been turned on was the downstairs bathroom so I peeked in there and saw the bath, half-full of water, with blood curdling out from some clothing. My goosebumps became goosemountains and I was sure my heartbeat was now loud enough to alert anyone in the house. Returning to the kitchen, I grabbed a carving knife in one hand and a pair of scissors in the other. I crept from the kitchen to the lounge and my heart did a double somersault when I saw that the television was on, although programmes had finished (it was before 24 hour television). It must be The Fox.
When you watch horror films and they walk into a house, they try to switch on a light and nothing happens, then the scary music starts. You sit there thinking 'Run! Don't go any further in the house! Just get out and run for your life.' I was just thinking those exact thoughts when I saw my brother, Ian, lying face-down on the sofa. What? Why was he here? Who else was in the house? Why was he lying face-down? Why were there blood-soaked clothes in the bath?
Ian had been on holiday with some friends, as I have said. He had had too much to drink, cut himself quite badly on some glass and decided to come home early. When he got home he out his stained clothes in the bath to soak and fallen asleep on the sofa, watching television. The next day it became a funny tale I would tell my friends, but, I have to admit, I have never been that scared before or since.