The wind is howling round the house, making those awful spooky noises that never presage good news in the movies. It sounds like werewolves are stalking round the back door. It is still daylight, but it is a dark, gloomy, rainy day, and I am in the house on my own - that has to mean that Disaster is about to strike, doesn't it?
If I am found scattered in separate suitcases, all over Scotland, or become very pale and do a lot of posting at night, or if I suddenly want to eat my steak really, really rare, and need to buy a lot more flea powder - you will know that I was right to be worried. 