I joined a writer’s club where the participants were invited to deliver a selection of five-minute stories. Sometime later, while in line to vote at our local primary school, the official directing us blurted out, ‘You’re the man who wrote that story about the little ghost. I loved that.’ Embarrassingly, I did not recognise the lady, but she went on the tell the people behind me what a good writer I was and asked me where she could get a copy of my book. Sadly I did not have a book for her to get, but she tickled my ego, so I decided to put together a collection of five-minute stories, in keeping with Clifford’s original theme. So here they are, thirty-odd five-minute reads. If books are food for thought, then this is a one-shilling bag of mixed lollies from the milk bar. If you are of an age, you will know what I mean; if not, then you can Google it. Some are sweet, some sour, some are sticky, some hard. None is too big to swallow, and if you do not like one, then there is always another.