by Geraldine Wade

Macgregor was a hermit of the old fashioned kind. That is to say, he lived in a cave and read dusty old books by candlelight. He also liked to write. He kept a copybook and each day he would write down anything that came to mind. That is how he came to discover the Dingblots… or rather they discovered him.

One evening, Macgregor sat down on his rickety wooden chair and took out some sheaves of white paper and reached for his ink bottle and dipping pen which he set on top of his desk. He rolled up his sleeves, opened the bottle of – always black, never blue ink – and dipped his pen. He then started to write. An idea had come to him earlier in the day and he was so excited that his hand flew across the paper. Everything was going so well, but in his haste he splattered ink across his nice white paper •

“Oh no”, he groaned and carefully took his sheet of paper with the blot on it and folded it in half. He was just about to throw it in the bin when he thought he’d better take another look at what he had written before the accident. So he opened the folded paper and to his surprise the blot had turned into two little men and they seemed to be having a deep conversation MN Macgregor blinked once, then twice and shook his head, he brought his candle closer to have a better look