Just for those of you who don't know 'Dr Who' is a UK science fiction TV series for family viewing - most kids peer at it from behind the sofa. It is about guy a who looks human, but isn't - he's a Time Lord - who travels with a girl companion through time and space in a TARDIS (Time And Relative Displacement In Space) If you haven't seen it you should, it really is good.

Old King Cole was a merry old soul, And a merry old soul was he, He called was a light in the middle of the night, To go to the WC, The WC was haunted, the butler had a fit, Old King Cole fell down the hole, And he came out covered in sh ... you know what.

I was reminded of this childhood rhyme by some recent events, and it kind of fits in with those childhood anxieties we all experience; is there a bogey man outside in the dark waiting to get you? This is one of those things that demonstrates the impossibility of proving a negative. You can prove there is something there, but you can't prove there isn't. Everyone knows that as soon as you put the light on the bogeyman can't be seen. But that doesn't prove that he isn't there. In the dark. Waiting. Last year Dr Who gave us creatures who appeared as stone statues. Not every statue. But any statue. When they caught you they would feed on your life force, throwing you back in time. But they could only move when you weren't looking, so you had to stare at them. Don't even blink. You can never look at a statue the same way again. Then this year we had the shadows that consume flesh, stripping a body to the bone in a split second. But again, not every shadow. But any shadow.

Then there are the 'sillies' - when I was in bed, if I covered my ears with the blanket I would be safe from the ghosties in the dark. That rough skin between your balls and anus, I was convinced it was your address stamped there so that if you got lost whoever found you would know where to take you, and this was all due to my father having an address embosser for his letters. Cooties seems to be an American term that frightens small boys, although I am not sure what they are, in my case it was wondering whether cunts had teeth. If I stuck my finger in one would it get bitten? Could they bite your willie off? I didn't know. And there was only one way to find out. And if it's true ... The anxieties of childhood. In the case of cunts it turned out to be untrue, and that sticking you willie in one was very pleasant. So what about the bogeyman, and ghosts, the supernatural, are they all bad? I still don't know.

My wife and I, together with our thirteen year old twin Sarah and David moved into an old house. Built in the 1920's it was sadly in need of refurbishment, so it was fairly cheap. It was, however, liveable and with a clean up quite comfy. Except for the 'facilities' The kitchen consisted of a stone 'Belfast' pattern sink with an enamelled drainer and a point for a cooker. There was a coal fired boiler for hot water, with a galvanised cylinder upstairs, and there was an outside loo, with a high level cast iron cistern which reminded me of school. Which brings us to the bathroom. With a good scrub this was useable, but the fittings were probably from the post war period, of no 'collectable' merit, and badly stained and chipped. The WC pan, or loo as it is known in our house, was particularly nasty. It would all have to go, but first I was going to install a new shower room downstairs by making few alterations to the layout. Meantime we would use the existing bathroom, with those who were desperate nipping the outside one.

We had been there a week or so when I heard an argument outside the bathroom. I was just having a morning pee before heading down to get some coffee, and the twin were arguing over who would use the bathroom first. I settled this by asking who went first yesterday.

"He did." "She did." came simultaneously.

"Someone must be telling fibs," I said.

There was an admission from Sarah that she did, and so I sent David in.

"Oh, he'll be ages," said Sarah, and flounced back to her bedroom. Flouncing she is good at, she knows better than to have a tantrum.

I came back upstairs a bit later, David had obviously finished because I saw an un smiling Sarah come out of the bathroom. Nothing particularly odd there. But the next day I was walking along the landing to the bathroom when my wife came out with an odd expression on her face, eyes somewhat out of focus, and if I hadn't known better I would have said she had just received a good rogering. She saw me and came back into focus.