It’s fascinating writing fantasy, as I can toss in anything I like.
The desire to keep adding the bizarre and continue stirring took root on the school run.
Rolling along, I’d be telling a tale about a girl who had created tartan ink and was using the spell on an aardvark, when a small voice from the back would ask, ‘And what about the fluffy pink dragon?’ ‘Of course, I was just coming to that.’ ‘And the flying yeti with three legs, who loves surfing and lives with his guitar playing, Olympic snowballer godmother?’ ‘What a coincidence. Yarold was about to enter, stage left.’
Fantasy is frustrating, caffeine-overload inducing, but brilliant and undoubtedly keeps the brain in gear.