As you may know, these four great poems of the twentieth century are in part meditations on time. This second of the set is introduced with stories of World War Two, from my family and that of my remarkable old friend, Elisabeth Hudson. These touch on the story of the extraordinary spy, Christine Granville, showcased recently on Twitter. Holding Elisabeth's original copy of East Coker set me thinking of her holding it in 1940, when it was new, and when her brother was due to become a great wartime spy himself. In 1944, Christine saved his life.

One of the great poems of the twentieth century, and one which we might call a kind of Anglo-American epic. Starting with Burnt Norton here, from the copy given to me by my great old friend Elisabeth, bought in 1941, and with her til her death in 2008. The great novelist John Fowles offers a nice way into this poem: 'The word is the most imprecise of signs. Only a science-obsessed age could fail to comprehend that this is its great virtue, not its defect.'

Join me for extremes of terror, wonder and hope. This is a colourful glimpse into the world of The Real Vampires, and my personal journeys: through Europe to Greece in 1988; and on into the world of vampires and poltergeists since 2013. I'll be covering these extensively in a new book, We Need to Talk About Ghosts. The photo shows the author in 1988 in Venice, not long returned from Athens and nearby Greek islands. Little did I know at this time that I had been just 50 miles from Vampire Country.

Everyone knows that animals bring people together. But how ON EARTH do dogs get back together with lost owners? Join me for a journey of unforgettable wonder, adventure, mystery and love, with seven great dogs - beginning with my mother and Pat, seen here in 1956, on her 21st birthday. You can read many more amazing dog stories in my book, A Singing Mouse at Buckingham Palace. My novel, Kali the Wonder Dog, is a great historic romp through 1930s Britain - highly recommended for anyone who loves dogs, and hates racists.

What would you get if you spliced together Byron, Polidori, and the celebrity actor T.P. Cooke, the Harrison Ford of Regency theatre, for a musical vampire romp on stage? The answer is: The Vampire, or the Bride of the Isles. Be afraid. For all the wrong reasons.

The challenge is simple: for Muir to carry you away, body and soul, into the wilds, dangers and tumultuous songs of nature in less than half an hour. And this one has a doggie. If the ending of this doesn't make you cry, I won't be your friend anymore.

In the run-up to the long awaited paperback edition of my book, The Real Vampires, six crimson drops here thrust under the microscope - bringing up many wild surprises. What did vampires really eat? What should you do if you woke up in your coffin? How did you make a vampire? How could you stop a vampire? Can you really die of terror? And just what was the unexpected link between Polidori's The Vampyre and Fifty Shades of Grey? No need to tie yourself in knots puzzling that one out: just sit back, pour a drink and... enjoy yourself; it's stranger than you think.

Was there ever any more ravishing poem in all the nineteenth century? Step in with me from the frost and sleet, and behold fair Madeline, like a mermaid in seaweed. This poem could change your life.

Once upon a time there was a strange, wild force of nature. His name was John Muir. Let him carry you away now, into the summer mountains of the Sierra. You'll really believe you are there. Walking boots optional.

If anyone can make you happy in less than twenty minutes, it is the utterly magical and irrepressible John Muir: hardier than a wolf, nimbler than a mountain goat, happier than a child. Take the John Muir challenge and see for yourself. You'll really believe you are right there in the Sierra Nevada, summer 1869.