Walking through town, I saw a wooden model of a spiral staircase on sale in a furniture shop for over £1,000. It must have been about two feet high and I couldn’t see any purpose to it at all. It didn’t even look nice. Couldn’t help thinking how disturbing it would be to have this in your sitting room, and how it could fit into a short story. Maybe someone could give it to their partner and it would be the death knell to the relationship, never getting anywhere.
There’s a snippet in the newspaper today that is too weird to put into a story. Apparently a male thief dressed as a woman was caught after being pursued by a pensioner on a lawnmower. Sounds like a dream for headline writers.