I live in an end of terrace house built in 1894, originally built for the slightly more affluent members of the community compared to the smaller fishermen’s' cottages staggering around the hills .I always felt a presence in the house; it seemed to be a male, and the experience was accompanied by great sorrow and a general feeling of wistfulness. When my son was a schoolboy, I used to watch him from the main bedroom window walking down the road to the bus stop taking him to s