I don’t know why this is so important to me, but it does occur to me that Emily’s ghost would be about the only one I would invite to visit so I could listen for myself. She haunted me in a manner of speaking about five years ago, but she didn’t make herself manifest by sitting on the bed and saying ‘boo!’ or anything. She just kept kicking me quietly in the head until I told the world what Wuthering Heights is all about. So come on, Em. I did your bidding; haunt me, then.
The real Emily B, according to her brother
And on an unrelated note, I discovered that it only takes an error the size of one key apart on a keyboard to turn ‘shire’ into ‘shite.’ I did as much tonight. And obviously I put it right. Not much of a post or poem for the only one of the day, is it?