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It is the uncanny Halloween Advent calendar.

Today's story comes from David, he says.

A few years ago, I was cycling to a pub in Walsingham, Norfolk, in mid-afternoon

down a very quiet lane. I was on the way to the pub's top was totally sober at this point.

As I was approaching a gateway in the hedge, a very large dock ran out and nearly knocking

up my bike. As you can imagine, I was furious and stopped my bike to look for the owner to give

them some words of advice.

I went into the field the dog had come from,

but there was no one there.

I went to the field on the other side of the road

where the dog had gone.

But there was no one there either,

and more to the point.

The dog had gone. I looked around fuming for a good five minutes and

still found no trace of a person or a dog. Feeling angry but defeated I headed off to the

pub. When I arrived, the landlady asked me why I looked so angry. I started to tell her what had happened and as I did she looked

unsettled and told me I should sit down and handed me a glass of brandy on the house.

She told me about they on the house.

She told me about the legend of the ghost dog,

the black shuck, and told me how lucky I was

that I hadn't made eye contact. What do we make of that?

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