JK 'Strikes' gold again

I have to admit that I am loving 'Strike' currently showing on the BBC and I have read both The Cuckoo's Calling and Silkworm and enjoyed them for what they were; reasonably well written private detective novels.

I didn't question Rowling's motive for writing under a pseudonym or the convenient leaking of the authors real name when the book had only sold a few thousand copies (granted still more sales that a lot of us will ever manage). There have been many articles about reading between the lines and hearing what she has to say about the world of celebrity and the publishing industry but would those questions even have been asked if Robert Galbraith really had written these novels?

However do we really think that had Robert Galbraith been real that he would have got a TV deal after just three 'not bad' books? I doubt it, but change the name of the author to JK Rowling and suddenly a TV deal is a forgone conclusion assuming Hollywood doesn't get there first.
How many novels did Ian Ranking write before Rebus hit the small screen? or Val McDermid, Colin Dexter and the thousands of great authors whose written words never gets anywhere near a TV deal.

The thing I liked about Strike was that it was relatively close to the book with the obvious need for abbreviation to get everything to fit into three episodes. Again I think this is the power of Rowling. If you are a fan of Hamish Macbeth on the TV don't read the books by M.C.Beaton as the only thing that remained the same was the name.

I enjoy Rowling and I believe she is a great writer with a gift to write the best children's books of our generation but I am sure that Strike would not have been made into a TV series with the DVD box set that will obviously follow if the author really had been a debutant by the name of Robert Galbraith.

Teenage Dream

Twitter challenge

This story was written based upon a prompt I was given by Twitter which was:

'It wasn't that he didn't want to be with her, but rather he didn't want her to be with him'.

 

Teenage Dream

Chantel was the prom queen, the one they all wanted and for the last two years she had been on the arm of the star quarterback.

That was until she had caught him making out with her best friend.

Chantel had cried off going to the gathering at Shannon's house, but feeling better later in the evening she had snook out and arrived as the party was in full swing.

As she walked in people turned and stared. The room had fallen silent of the general roar of a teenage party and only the banging base continued to beat out from the stereo.

The glances towards the garden sent her running through the crowd. Teenagers easily parting. No one even attempting to stop her. No one wanting to get involved.

As she emerged into the garden she was ignored by the couples making out. She looked around unable to see what she already knew she was looking for. Then she heard it. Shannon's giggle and she knew what she would see even before she pushed through the bushes into the back corner of the garden. There snuggled under the arbour with his hand up Shannon's top and slobbering into her left ear was Brad.

Before Chantel knew what was happening and before the two lovers could realise they were being watched she grabbed the hose conveniently lying on the ground and she blasted them with ice cold water.

Shannon lunged towards her soaker, almost halfway there before her brain registered what her eyes where seeing.

'Chantel,' Shannon stopped dead. 'I thought you were ill.'

Chantel dropped the hose and turned, pushing her way through the crowd that had gathered to see the inevitable cat fight. 

                                                ***********************************************

That was how I ended up with Chantel the prom queen.

I'm Andy. The head of the debate team and used as a punch bag for the football team even since high school began.

I have spent the last five years dreaming over Chantel. Offering to carry her books home and buying her shakes if I ever see her in the diner without the other cheerleaders and football jocks.

Last Sunday she was there alone and I offered to buy her a drink. She accepted and asked me to join her. We talked about the debate team and somehow ended up discussing the role of women in Tolstoy's War and Peace.

Before long I had to go and mow Mrs Petersen's lawn but we agreed to meet to next day.

I walked into the diner the next day and there she was surrounded by the rest of the cheerleader troop.

'Chantel. I'm here,' I said as I walked over.

'Beat it geek. We're busy.' Shannon said from her place next to Chantel.

It looked like the natural order had returned. I dipped my head, turned and headed to a booth the other side of the diner.

I ordered my food and sat with my head bowed.

'Can I sit here?'

I looked up and there was Chantel.

'I thought you were with those guys,' I said nodding towards the cheerleaders sitting in the booth by the door.

'They sat with me while I was waiting for you. Shannon isn't the sort of person I want to hang around with anymore.'

I nodded at the seat opposite and then waved at Mindy, my favourite waitress, to let her know to bring Chantel a milkshake along with the rest of my order.

 I was halfway through my frothy coffee when, as if the gods of tension had decreed it, the jukebox stopped and Brad walked in.

He started heading towards his usual crowd when out of the corner of his eye he saw Chantel sitting with me.

'Chantel why you sitting in Geek corner?'

'I'm sitting with Andy because we're together. You've got Shannon now.'

'Come on Chantel. You're the one who let me down. You weren't expecting me to go to the party alone were you?'

'Seriously Brad, this is my fault?'

'I'm glad you realise that now why don't you get back where you belong?'

'Brad I was being sarcastic. I am not coming back with you. I'm with Andy.'

'You,' Brad said pointing at me. 'Will regret this.'

Brad walked towards the crowd and grabbed Shannon, kissing her full on the lips

'Let's go, this place is getting to geeky for me.'

The rest of the afternoon was me and Chantel. It was the best afternoon of my life. That evening I walked her home and she kissed me. The sweetest strawberry lip-gloss kiss.

I was still floating on air as I walked across the playing field and round the back of the school towards the alley way that cut through towards home. I entered the alleyway not aware of anything. It was only when I was half way along that I noticed the two large shadows at the end. I glanced over my shoulder and noticed a similar two shadows approaching behind me.

'She's mine Geek,' one of the shadows said as all four of them piled into me.

The next thing I remember was waking up in hospital with a young woman sitting by my side.

'Chantel?' I whispered.

The girl blew her nose, wiped her eyes and squeezed my hand.

'It's me,' she said. 'Mindy. I was so worried about you.'

'Mindy?'

'Yes. Chantel popped in but she left with Brad. It seems they're back together.'

'But Brad did this?'

'Then you need to let the police know. He can't get away with this.'

Just then the door pushed open and Chantel appeared.

'Andy, can I have a word?'

'Mindy do you mind?' I asked.

'No problems. I'll go get a coffee. I'll be back in five minutes.'

Mindy got up, left and Chantel took the seat she had left.

'How are you?' Chantel asked.

'I've been better. What the hell did Brad think he was doing.'

'What do you mean? Brad didn't do this.'

'Chantel, Brad did this. I heard him.'

'You can't prove it. He was at football practice. I saw him there.'

'Chantel how can you say that? I had just left you at home.'

'Brad wouldn't hurt you. He had no reason to. And he's not that kind of guy.'

'Has he threatened you?'

'Don't be so silly. I don't know why you think he would hurt anyone.'

'Chantel I thought you were better than that. Brad has hospitalised me and he cheated on you with your best friend. How can you defend him?'

'If you're going to start slagging my friends off I think its best we don't see each other anymore.'

'Chantel you are a beautiful girl but you really need to choose your friends better.'

Chantel stood and turned tossing her mane of perfectly coiffured hair over her shoulder. She stomped towards the door, pushing it outwards and nearly knocking the cup of coffee from Mindy's hands as she headed back into the room.

'What's wrong with her?' Mindy said as the door closed behind Chantel.

'She feels that her boyfriend isn't the type to beat anyone up.'

'You are joking. She knows he did it.'

'But she and the rest of the cheerleader, football player gang are going to give him an alibi.'

'So what are you going to do?'

'I thought I might keep my head down, get better and then see if the best looking diner waitress in town wants to go out sometime.'

Mindy put her coffee cup down on the nightstand and leaned in towards me for a kiss that beat any strawberry lip-gloss kiss by a mile.

F is for Fable - #AtoZchallenge

A Fable is a story with a moral and the famous are Aesop's Fables.
Aesop was a Greek story teller. No writing by him exists and there is a question as to whether he really existed or not but there are a number of stories accredited to him. His stories include 'The Lion and the Mouse', 'The Goose that laid the Golden Egg' and 'The Boy who Cried Wolf'.
The Boy that cried wolf is the story of a shepherd boy who claims that there is a wolf attacking the sheep and the villagers rush to help but find there is no wolf. He does this again and then the third time when there really is a wolf no one believes him. The moral of the story is that you shouldn't lie because people won't believe you when you really need them.
Another well known story which includes a wolf is Peter and the Wolf. This is a composition written by Prokofiev and is assumed to be an allegory for the situation in Russia at the time. Russia and the soviet state was written about in secret by many of its great novelist including Dostoyevsky, Tolstoy and Solzhenitsyn.
Solzhenitsyn wrote many semiautobiographical books including Cancer Ward - about his time on a cancer ward - and A day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich .
A Day in the life document a day in the life of someone serving in the gulags in Siberia.

And so from the fables of ancient Greece and across eastern Europe to the wilds of Siberia.

E is for Each - #AtoZChallenge

Say the word each to me and I always think about people selling raffle tickets. '20p each or 5 for £1' was how the sales pitch used to go.
I remember as a child often attending Christmas parties and works socials where there would be a raffle.
With a raffle, tickets are drawn at random from a tub and the holder of the winning ticket gets to pick a prize and then draw the next number. This continues until all the prizes have gone. The prizes usually included a few bottles of wine, some beer and a cuddly toy.
A cuddly toy was also one of the prizes in The Generation Game. The Generation Game was a game show shown on a Saturday night where three couples competed against each other in a number of tasks. Which ever couple made it through then had to remember prizes as they passed them by on a conveyor belt. Everything they could remember they won.
The Generation Game was hosted by Larry Grayson and Sir Bruce Forsyth.
Sir Bruce also hosted Strictly come dancing up until 2014 when he retired due to the pressure of live television. The show is now hosted by Tess Daly and Claudia Winkleman. 
Claudia is also co host of the BBC's film programme Film16. The Film programme was originally hosted by Barry Norman between 1972 and 1998.

So we move from Each to Barry Norman in six easy steps.

D is for Dab - #AtoZChallenge

Dab Can be many things but I like to think of it as the dab of ink you put on a bingo card to denote that one of your numbers have been called.
Bingo is a game where people have a number of cards all with 15 numbers on them. 5 on each line. Numbers are called and prizes are awarded for the first person to get a row, two rows and then a full house. Bingo had a resurgence in the nineties with Gala and Mecca setting up clubs that were a huge step up from the grimy bingo halls of the sixties and seventies.
At the seaside bingo callers us different names to highlight the numbers. Calls like 'any way up 69', 'legs 11' and 'two fat ladies 88' are often heard.
Two fat ladies was also the name of a cookery show which featured Clarissa Dickson Wright and Jenifer Paterson and two chefs who travelled around the country with a motorcycle and sidecar.
Another couple often see out and about with a motorcycle and sidecar where Wally and Nora Batty in The Last of the Summer Wine. This was a comedy set in Yorkshire and highlight the pit falls of three elderly gentleman and the scraps they somehow managed to get themselves into. One of the main characters until his death was Compo played by Bill Owen. In everything else I have ever seen him in he was always smartly dressed and well spoken but in Summer Wine he is a grubby little man with holes in his clothes and often weasels in his trousers.
Bill had a part in the very first Carry On film - Carry on Sergeant. The carry on films are much loved comedies based upon the seaside humour of saucy seaside postcards. These films starred many stalwarts of the British film industry in the sixties and seventies and you will often be amazed by some of the bit part actors who starred as youngster in the early films and went on to enjoy there own success.
They had Juliet Mills - daughter of Sir John Mills - and a future bond girl Shirley Eaton.

And so once again the six degrees of separation has led on a magical mystery tour that took us from Dab to Shirley Eaton. Strange were these things lead us.

C is for Cab - #AtoZChallenge

Today we start with Cab.

Being English I always think of black cabs like the hackney cabs that drive around London. In order to be a black cab driver in London you have to take a test called The knowledge. This is a test that shows that a black cab driver can get anywhere in London without the use of SatNav. One of the most famous black cab drivers was Fred Housego.
Fred won Mastermind in 1980. His final specialist subject was The Tower of London.
The Tower of London was built in 1078 and added to over the next 300 years. It sits on the North bank of the river Thames. It used to house a zoo and still has ravens living there.
Rumour has it that when the Ravens leave the Tower the kingdom will fall.
There is a Raven Master and there are seven Ravens in the Tower of London. The ravens are fed 170g of meat and bird biscuits soaked in blood every day.
Ravens are carrion birds and are part of the same family as the crow and the blackbird. Another member of this family is the Rook.
The Rook was once used in a sketch by the Two Ronnies. Ronnie Corbett and his partner go to a restaurant called the Rook and try to order a meal. The menu is made up of many dishes all containing rook. When they eventually make up there minds they are told 'Rook's off.'
The Tow Ronnies were of course made up of Ronnie Barker and Ronnie Corbett.
Ronnie Corbett sadly passed away last week but I will never forget the time he fell off the travelator during the filming of Peter Kay's Is this the way to Amarillo video. True comedy gold.

And so today we have managed to get from Cab to Ronnie Corbett in six degrees of separation and in the process pay my tribute to a comedy legend. RIP Ronnie.

Documents in the Rain

Charlie was rushing home when he first saw it. If it had been a beautiful sunny day he would have been looking around him, taking in the beauty of the university grounds. Charlie loved the walk through the grounds. From the lecture theatre to his digs took him through the arboretum, around the tennis courts and finally across the end of the lake.  Charlie was always amazed by the different types of flora and fauna he experienced on his walk home. So different from Birmingham city centre where he had been brought up. The concrete jungle with the odd tree and small patch of grass put in by overspent councils to try and give it some semblance of nature and break up the grey monotony.
But on this day he had had his head bent down, trying to fight against the driving rain. At first he saw a spot of red out of the corner of his eye. He didn't want to stop, he was getting soaked and needed to keep moving fast but the flash of colour caught his eye and his curiosity. He dog legged across the pavement and stopped. Looking down he had to look twice but there in the gutter was a copy of the I Ching. He picked it up and carried on home.
When he got home he threw the book into the sink and started undressing. A while later after a hot shower and a change of clothes he came back and looked at it. It was wet through and in danger of disintegrating but he picked it up carefully and opened the front page. This book belongs to Billie Yang.
Charlie couldn't believe his luck. Billie Yang  was the most beautiful girl he had every seen. She was in his english literature group and he had been trying to pluck up the courage to talk to her for weeks. Now here was the ideal opportunity.
Charlie carefully laid the book out on the hearth mat and turned the gas fire on to low. He wanted to dry the book out so that he had something special to give to her.
The next day Charlie was sat behind Billie. Every time he tried to get her attention one of her friends or the teacher would say something. All day he tried and tried but always something distracted her. In the end Charlie knew he was never going to get her alone and he would never have the courage to talk to her with her friends there. What was he going to do? As he was walking towards the science lab for his last lesson of the day he walked passed the notice board. Of course that was it.
By the time Billie walked passed the same notice board an hour later there was a new notice in the middle of the board for all to see.

If anyone has lost a copy of the I Ching contact Charlie Somersby.

'Thank goodness,' Charlie heard one of Billie's friends say, in the large crowd gathered around the notice board. 'He lives over by the new mini mart you can pick it up on your way home.'

Charlie didn't wait to hear the reply but turned and ran out of the building. Chess club would have to be missed if he was going to get home and look smart enough when Billie got there.
Charlie showered and changed, and changed and changed. He didn't want to look too geeky but he didn't want her to think he wasn't intelligent. Finally he settled on his best checked shirt and his new blue jeans, just in time, he was still lacing his converse trainers when the door bell rang.
He raced down stairs but too late Mrs Jones who lived in the ground floor flat had got there first.
'Oh hi, does Charlie live here?' asked an extremely gruff voice. Charlie couldn't see who was at the door from where he stood but it obviously wasn't Billie.
'Yes,' said Mrs Jones. 'Oh look here he is now.'
Charlie slowly walked down the stairs to see Brian Matthews the school bully and resident idiot standing there.
'Hi Brian,' smiled Charlie, it wasn't wise to upset Brian. 'What can I do for you?'
'Billie said you had my book.'
'I've got a book but it's not yours. It's Billie's'
'No it's mine.'
'I don't know what your game is Brian,' said Charlie sounding a lot braver that he felt, 'but it's Billie's. It's got her name in it.'
'She gave it to me.'
'Course she did. Why would you want a copy of the I Ching?'
'Because I'm interested. So go get me my book.'
'No.'
Brian grabbed hold of the front of Charlie's shirt and pulled him close. Charlie could still smell the remnants of the shepherd's pie the canteen have served for lunch on Brian's breath.
'It's Billie's book and I am not going to let you have it.'
Brian raised his fist just as Mrs Jones reappeared from her flat. He looked at her, shrugged and pushed Charlie away. Charlie landed in an untidy pile on the floor and Brian turned and headed off up the street.
Before Mrs Jones had chance to ask Charlie what was going on he picked himself up and rushed back up to his room.
Charlie sat in his room flicking through the book. It had Billie's name in the front and there were notes in the margin all in her beautifully delicate handwriting. The book had to be hers but why was Brian trying to get hold of it? Just then the doorbell rang again. On the third ring Charlie realised Mrs Jones must have gone out and he went down stairs to answer it.
Charlie opened the door to find Brian standing there again.
'Look Brian I don't know what you want but I am not giving you the book.'
Brian stepped aside and behind him was Billie.
'Hi Charlie.'
'Hi Billie,' Charlie blushed.
'I wanted to thank you for standing up to Brian about the book. It couldn't have been easy.'
'Not a problem.'
'But the thing is it really is Brian's book. I gave it to him.'
'Oh. Oh well I best get it for him then.'
Charlie slowly walked up the stairs and fetched the book. He returned and without looking up he handed the book to Brian.
'Thanks.' Brian took the book and started to walk off.
'Look Charlie,' Billie said. Charlie looked up and was happy to see she was smiling. 'I wondered, as you've been so gallant about the book and everything.'
'Yes,' Charlie replied.
'Do you fancy going for a drink sometime? Maybe tomorrow?'
Charlie could only nodded and grin as Billie turned and ran off after Brian.

The Strawberry Jam Incident

Pam was sitting at the kitchen table sewing name labels on the inside of Tommy’s school shirts. She wasn’t sure which she hated more, having to buy new clothes every term as he had a growth spurt, or the hours of sitting sewing name labels on everything.

Tommy and Jeanette, the girl from next door had been racing around the house for the last twenty minutes and from the general hullaballoo she thought it was cops and robbers. There had been a lot of noises like shots being fired and what she could only assume was a child interpretation of a police siren. Pam had just finished sewing the last label in, and had pulled the needle and thread up to her mouth to bite it off when she heard a noise that made the blood in her veins freeze.

She dropped the shirt with the needle and thread still attached and raced out into the hall just as Tommy’s tumble down the stairs finished at her feet.

‘Oh my god, Tommy, Tommy,’ Pam cried as she dropped to her knees and cradled Tommy’s head on her knees.

‘It’s okay Mrs Jones. I think I got him,’ shouted Jeanette from the top of the stairs.

Pam looked up and saw Jeanette still pointing her plastic gun at Tommy.

‘I don’t think you understand Jeanette. Tommy’s really hurt.’ Tommy lay still and limp in his mother’s arms. She could see his little chest rising and falling but who knew what damage had been done.

As she watched his chest she noticed for the first time the red stain. Slow spreading on the upper left hand side of his shirt was a large red stain.

‘Jeanette. I need you to put the gun down and go and get your dad.’

‘But he’s only playing dead Mrs Jones. He’s going to escape if I don’t keep the gun on him.’

‘I’ll keep an eye on him and you go next door and get your dad.’

‘But Mrs Jones…’

‘Jeanette this is important. I need you to go now.’ Pam was trying to keep her voice steady but she was starting to panic and she needed help.

Jeanette walked down the stairs and handed Pam the gun. ‘Don’t let him out of your sight.’

‘I won’t. Now hurry.’ Pam was starting to cry and she needed the girl to hurry and not get distracted.

Jeanette raced out of the door and Pam looked down at her son. As soon as the door clicked closed he opened his left eye.

‘Oh thank God. Are you okay sweetheart?’

‘Has she gone?’ Tommy whispered.

‘She’s gone but you lay still sweetheart. I think you’ve hurt yourself and we need to get an ambulance to look at you.’

‘Nah, I fine thanks Mum.’ Tommy shook his head and jumped to his feet.

Pam managed to grab hold of his arm before he had chance to go racing off. ‘I don’t think so. You’re hurt and you need checking out. For a start let’s have a look at your chest.’

Pam whipped his shirt off over his head. There was not a mark on him. She held his hand and spun him round and round. Next she held up his shirt and looked at the stain. The blood stain she had seen earlier didn’t look quite right. She looked at her son and he smiled sheepishly.

‘Jeanette was going to arrest me and lock me up in prison so I had to escape. She thought she shot me so I could escape.’

‘And what is this?’ Pam pointed at the stain.

‘Well… you know the jam sandwiches you made us for lunch?’

Pam was just about to explode at her son as Jeanette’s father came flying through the open door.

‘See I told you he wasn’t dead,’ Jeanette cried as she grabbed the gun and started chasing after Tommy.

At tear stained Pam picked herself up off the floor and smiled sheepishly at Jeanette’s dad. ‘Well now you’re here do you fancy a cup of tea?’

‘Why not?’

Childhood hobbies?

Jimmy hadn't been able to believe his luck when he had been sitting waiting for his wife that morning. It had been too hot to sit in the car, so he had been standing by it, absent mindedly looking up at the clouds. The first time he had seen the shape he had to blink and shake his head. Surely not. When he looked again it was gone. He had almost given up hope when it flew over again. The shape, the elegance. There was no mistaking a peregrine falcon when you saw one. He watched it fly out towards the cliffs over the other side of the office block where his wife worked. It must be nesting out there, he thought.
Jimmy had loved to watch the birds when he had been a kid. His dad had bought him a book of English birds for his seventh birthday and he had ticketed them off as he had seen them all. The peregrine falcon had been the last one he had spotted. His dad bought him new night vision binoculars to celebrate having seen all the birds in the book.
When his wife finally returned to the car he had rushed her home and barricaded himself into the study checking out everything he needed to know.
'I'm off out,' he called to his wife as he left the study and stood in the hall getting his coat on.
'I thought we were having a quiet night in,' she replied as she stood in the lounge doorway holding a large glass of wine.
'Something's come up. I won't be long.' Jimmy smiled, rushed back to give her a kiss on the check, grabbed his car keys and headed out.

Jimmy parked at the back of the car park the walkers used half way up the cliffs, where the trail flatten out before the cliffs rose up again. There were one or two cars left but it was starting to get dark and they would soon be gone. He grabbed his night vision binoculars and carefully pulled the strap of his special satchel across his body. He might need to climb and he would need both hands free.
He walked to the top of the cliffs and stared long and hard. There a flicker of movement. Could that be her? Jimmy lay down on his stomach and using his night vision binoculars followed the flight of the falcon. He lost her just for a minute and then saw her fly out again. It was about half way up and the trail would take him to within about ten feet of the nest. He put his binoculars away and started to walk. When he estimated he was about where he had seen the falcon vanish he looked up. Nothing. Then he looked down. The trail was steeper than he remembered and he was actually about ten feet above the nest. He looked around but it was almost dark now and there was no one to be seen. He lowered himself onto his stomach and leaned over the edge. He needed his binoculars for there night vision not their magnification. Sitting in the nest,glinting in the moon light were three eggs. Three! Jimmy couldn't believe his luck. Looking up into the sky there was no sign of the falcon. He checked out the nest again and saw there was a small ledge just below the nest.
Jimmy twisted his body around and lowered his feet over the edge. He felt out with his toes but couldn't feel the ledge. He lowered himself further and was just hanging on by his finger tips but still he couldn't feel the ledge. He knew it was there and the falcon wouldn't  be away long so he dropped. The ledge had only been another two feet below him and he landed safely. It was only about ten inches wide so Jimmy couldn't turn. He edged along with his face pushed into the cliff face. Before he knew it he was level with the nest. He opened the flap of his satchel and carefully parted the nest of hay inside. He then carefully lifted each of the three falcon eggs and placed them into the satchel. He replaced the hay over the top of the eggs and closed the satchel. Carefully he edged back along the cliff to where he had dropped down. He reached up but he couldn't reach high enough to lift himself back to the trail. Jimmy's breath started to increase. he had to get back but he couldn't go back the way he'd come. Jimmy started panting and looking around.
'Calm down old boy,' he said to himself. 'Think about this sensibly.'
Jimmy got his binoculars and looked along the cliff face. The opposite side of the nest there looked like there might be some holes in the cliff he could use as hand holds. Jimmy edged along the ledge again. As he slowly moved along, looking at his feet all the time he felt a thud on the top of his head. It must have been some gravel shook loose from above, he though to himself. The second thump was harder, as Jimmy looked up the third hit happened. It wasn't a gravel fall, it was the falcon. She glided in silently and her claws hit him straight in the face as he looked up. The razor sharp claws missed his eyes by millimetres. Jimmy lifted his hand to protect his face and started to lose his balance. The falcon was circling. Getting ready to come back for another hit. Jimmy grabbed for the cliff but there was nothing to hold. He petered in the air for what seemed like forever. He somehow managed to push himself flat against the cliff face. His balance was out of sync because of his heavy satchel. Maybe he could distract the bird while he got to safety. He took off the satchel and using the strap pendulum swung it, gathering momentum. As it reached the height of its swing he released the bag and it flew in the air, arcing over the cliff ledge and back to the trail above. Jimmy prayed at least one of them had survived. Even one was worth a lot of money.
Releasing the bag had upset Jimmy's own balance again and he grabbed at the cliff face with the finger tips of both hands just as the falcon made her next drive. She levelled out and battered her wings to hold her at the right height, all the time stabbing and scrapping her claws at his head and his eyes. Instinct took over and Jimmy lifted his arms. One over his eyes to protect them and the other flailing about to try and beat the bird off. Too late he realised he didn't have hold on the cliff. The falcon almost knowing, dived in for one last time. This time she grabbed at his jacket and with her beak and her claws pulled.


The next morning two rangers were walking along the trail.
'Bob can you see what I see?' the younger warden whispered to his colleague.
'Sure can Rich.' They both stopped and stared.
'We'll need to close the trail.'
'I'll go back down and let them know. You stay here and stop anyone going past.'
'Will do.' For a few minutes neither of them moved. They just stood and watched as the peregrine falcon sat on top of an open hessian satchel, protecting her three perfect eggs, in the middle of the walkers' trail.
'Amazing what they use to make nests isn't.'
'Sure is.'

Where did the first half go?

I can't believe that on Wednesday we will start the second half of the year. Where has the first half gone?
I appreciate I have been a little off the radar as far as writing has been concerned so here's an update of what's been happening and what I hope to achieve in the second half of the year, assuming it doesn't go as  quickly as the first half.
As many of you know I have been having a lot of surgery for my throat and I won't go into that in detail, but needless to say the recuperation has curtailed my writing some what.
In an attempt to get my writing kick started I have set up a weekend writing challenge on Scribophile. This challenge involves an object being left and then a story has to be written which includes the object. This is going great except I am one of the few people failing to write the story. Motivation seems to have left me along with my thyroid and vocal chords.
I have also set up a group on facebook to promote any books which are available free through Kindle Owners Lending Library and Kindle Unlimited. I am happy to say a number of people have signed up to this and hopefully they have seen their books being borrowed thanks to the exposure.
Finally for me I have decided to split my novel 'Stripper of the Yard' into two parts. Part 1 is free and part 2 is the same price as the full book (only £1.99 or $2.99). The idea is that hopefully people will download part 1, enjoy it, and wanting to know what happens next, buy part 2. So far I have had 307 downloads of part 1 and 7 sales of part 2 or the entire book. This is all in the last 2 weeks which considering I had had no sales in the last 6 months is brilliant.
The hardest part of the whole thing was getting Amazon to list the book for free. With Smashwords and Barnes & Noble you can chose to list a book for free. However with Amazon you have to list a book for at least 99p. In order to list a book for free you have to get Amazon to price match the book in line with Smashwords and Barnes & Nobel. This means listing the book with those other sites and then writing to Amazon to request that they price match. Amazon then email saying they will think about it and take a week to decide. In my case they price matched in the USA and then I had to request that they did the same in the UK, which took another week.
But the books are now listed and if you want to check them out they're here....
Part 1 - http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00ZAQOT2O/
Part 2 - http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00ZAQOHIK/

Going forwards I have 2 projects on the go at the moment, both of which need more attention than I have given them recently.
I have my 2013 NaNoWriMo winner to edit and then publish. This is the story of an East-end gangster whose wife can get pregnant and pretends she is to keep him, while at the same time his girlfriend is pregnant and pretends not to be to keep him. When his brother introduces the two women the consequences could be dire. I am hoping to have this ready to publish by the end of the year.
My second project is to write my story. In the last 7 months I have had intensive surgery and been in most of the departments in the local hospital (except the maternity ward and the mortuary) and Guy's Hospital in London. I knew nothing about my condition and have learnt as I have gone a long and I thought it would be interesting to get everything down on paper to reflect on the journey I have been through. As my treatment has not yet finished I don't know when it will be available but hopefully some time next year.

So lots has happened and lots still has to happen.
How have you coped with the first half of the year?
Do you have big plans for the second half?

The cobbles of remembrance

I had been enjoying the hot Sunday afternoon, lazing in the sun. They were having a birthday party next door and Cheneice was over there and Jim was away on business for another week. It wasn’t often I get to sit and do nothing but today was a perfect day to do just that.

So far I had worked half way down a very weak jug of PIMS and I was had almost finished the Jackie Collins that had been sat on my bedside table for the last few months.

I had heard a few screams from over the fence but that was kids being kids. Besides Marjory was watching them all and she was far more capable than I ever would be. I think she had a couple of the other mums helping her and as long as that lush, Emma Marchbanks, wasn’t there they would all be sober.

‘Mummy, mummy.’ I heard a voice that changed in pitch as it called out. Knowing it was my Cheniece but praying it wasn’t, I closed my eyes.

‘Mummy, look at me.’ I slowly opened my eyes to see my daughter’s head appear over the top of the fence and then vanish behind it again. Seconds later she appeared again.

‘Cheniece, what are you doing?’ I called as I slowly rose from my sun lounger.

‘Daniel has a trampoline. He got it for his birthday.’ She called back, still appear above the fence every few seconds.

‘And where is everyone else?’ I asked, now standing on tiptoe to see over the fence and realising my daughter was alone.

‘They are playing pass the parcel but I lost in the first round, so I came out to play.’

‘Cheniece, those things can be dangerous. You need to have someone to watch you.’

‘Well you can watch me now, can’t you?’

At that point Marjory appeared and saw me staring over the fence. ‘Way to keep an eye on the kids Marjory. Should you not have a net around this thing?’

‘We ordered one,’ Marjory rushed down the garden steps to stand close to the trampoline and my still jumping daughter, ‘but it didn’t turn up in time and I couldn’t not let them use in today. Could I?’

‘Well keep an eye on her will you.’

‘Of course.’ Marjory turn to Cheniece. ‘Time to come in now, we are about to start the birthday tea.’

‘Fantastic,’ shouted Cheniece as she seemed to jump higher in the air one last time and land on the ground, not the trampoline.

I looked at Marjory and before either of us could move Cheniece had run off back inside the house.

The relaxation of my afternoon spoilt, I went into the house and decided to tidy round ready for Cheniece’s return.

Before I knew it the clock in the lounge chimed six o’ clock and I grabbed my keys and headed next door. I was four steps out of the front door before I realised that I had forgotten to put any shoes on. All afternoon lounging around the garden, followed by a few hours mooching around the house I had not bothered to put anything on my feet. I looked down, looked at the house and then looked at next door. It was a smooth concrete path right up until Marjory’s driveway which was made up of old fashioned cobbled stones. ‘Sod it,’ I thought, and continued towards next door and collecting my daughter.

A couple of sharp stones made me reconsider my rash decision but I was nearer Marjory’s than home by then so there was no point turning back.

I walked onto Marjory’s driveway and felt the cobbles under my feet. I walked four steps before I stopped dead in my tracks. I could hear the noise of an engine turning over and suddenly I was twelve again.

It was a day the same as any other and I had been out all day playing with my friends on our bikes, swimming in the canal. All things health and safety don’t let kids do these days. I had got home at six and was surprised Mum hadn’t been standing out on the front looking for me. My trainers were hanging round my neck tied together with their laces and I dumped my bike at the street end of the drive and started walking towards the house. As I walked up the drive I could hear an engine running but couldn’t see any cars in the street. I couldn’t work out where it was coming from.

I got to the front door and pushed the same as always. But the door didn’t move. I jangled the handle but nothing. I pushed the bell and still nothing. Where could Mum be? She was always here and she would never have gone out without me.

I walked passed the front of the garage towards the back gate and as I did the noise of the car engine got louder. I looked out into the street and there was still no sign of the car I could hear. I got to the back gate and pushed the latch down. The gate opened easily and I headed into the back garden. As I walked down the back passage I looked at the back door to the garage and realised the noise was coming from in there. I pushed the door and it swung open.

The smell was something I hadn’t ever smelt before and the garage was engulfed in a dark cloud. The engine noise was louder than anything I had ever heard. Why was the car engine running? What was the hose pipe doing? I slowly walked to the car and tried to open the door. Through the smoke and the haze, I could make out someone was sitting in the driver’s seat. I started coughing as I pulled at the car door. It was locked. I pulled and pulled and pulled. I don’t know what I expected to happen. I was coughing harder now and breathing seemed to be something I had to think about.

I suddenly realised I needed help and I tried to run towards the door. It was like running through treacle. The door to the garage was open and I could see the sun streaming through, but it didn’t seem to be getting and closer. My breath was getting heavier and I was coughing too much to take deep breaths.

As I collapsed on the floor, the light from the door clouded. As if a cloud had tracked across the sun at that precise moment. There were voices but no noise I could make sense of.

 

‘Mummy, Mummy,’ Cheniece was clinging to my neck and I was lying on the floor.

‘Are you okay?’ Marjory ran from the front door and bent down to be level with me. ‘What happened?’

‘Nothing I must have just had too much sun I guess,’ I said smiling at Marjory and kissing my daughter on the top of her head as I slowly picked myself up.

 

That night as I was tucking Cheneice into bed she lifted her little hand and stroked my cheek. ‘I love you mummy.’

‘I love you too my sweetheart.’ I smiled and lifting her hand kissed it carefully.

‘Daniel’s party was great and he had two grandma’s there. Why have I only got one Grandma?’

I looked at my daughter carefully. She was so insightful sometimes. ‘Shall we have a story before you go to sleep?’

‘Yes please. George and Dragon?’

‘Of course.’

You wait months for a PEG – and then two come along at once

Those of you who have been following the story of my PEG will have seen my previous two posts:

NG v PEG feeding tubes & My PEG two weeks in.

As described previously it looked like my first PEG had embedded itself into the lining of my stomach after only fourteen days. The general protocol with a PEG is that after fourteen days the PEG should be pushed a short way back into the stomach and rotated. This shouldn’t be done any sooner as the tract needs to form between the stomach and the outside world. Any sooner and there can be complications with the internal layers not knitting together properly and there is the chance of infection.

Last week I had an endoscopy to check that the bumper really was embedded. This has to be the worst thing I have experienced since becoming ill. As I lose the ability to breath if I am sedated and laid flat the endoscopy had to be done whilst I was wide awake with just some numbing spray for the back of my throat. I felt as though I was going to choke as what has to be the largest camera in the world was pushed down my throat. At one point I thought I would throw up, and wearing a month guard and with a camera in my mouth I was not sure where the vomit would go, except back into me.

I cannot praise the nurses highly enough. The one with me kept talking to me, assuring me everything was okay and keeping me as calm as she could while the camera went down. Once the camera was down it was not as bad. Until the camera is brought out and then you have to go through the whole gagging process again.

So we now had confirmation that the PEG was embedding but that for the time being it was still working. I was told to continue using it until I could return for a new PEG to be fitted under general anaesthetic five days later. If at any point I was in pain through using the embedded tube I should go to A&E. This did not fill me with joy as so far this had always meant a four hour wait to then meet a doctor who knew nothing of PEGs and who couldn’t help me.

So I then arrived at the hospital five days later to have the new PEG fitted. The plan for the old PEG? Well they would try and pull it out but if that didn’t work then they weren’t sure what to do.

I had been nil by mouth since 10pm the night before. With a Trachi getting dehydrated can cause coughing and a lot of discomfort. There were three people waiting at 7.30am to see the same doctor and I was the last to be called. I finally went into surgery at 12.30pm. I know there is a list and therefore we can’t jump the queue but at the very least they could have let me have some water or some I.V. fluids rather than leaving me fourteen hours without anything.

Finally I was taken into the theatre and put to sleep. Imagine my surprise to discover upon waking that I now have two PEGs.

It took five hours for the registrar to arrive and to explain that they had been unable to remove the old PEG put hadn’t cut it off and left it in. She couldn’t explain why as the doctor who completed the surgery had already left the hospital to go on holiday.

The next day I was in a considerable amount of pain. I was sent for an x-ray and then doped up on Tramadol. The nurses were going to come and clean the wound and show me how to care for it, but unfortunately they were too busy, so left me with two wounds encrusted in dried blood for another day.

The day after that I was sent for a CT scan and when that didn’t explain the pain they decided to send me home with some pain killers. I have still not spoken to the doctor and there has still been no decision made as to the way forward to stop the second PEG from embedding in my stomach wall as the first did.

The treatment so far has very much been ‘well the first PEG shouldn’t have embedded, so we’ll just hope the second doesn’t.’ I have a doctor who was more intent on leaving for his holiday and who has left no instruction as to then next step with his junior doctors or his registrar. He is going to ring me tomorrow but I won’t be holding my breath on that phone call!

So keep tuned for the next instalment of how not to fit a PEG and remember if you have the choice stick with an NG tube.

Waiting for Charlie

She sat looking out towards the sea. The water from the damp grass slowly wicking up her trousers. The trees behind her protecting her from the wind blowing off the land and out to sea. She liked sitting here. She was hidden from view by the outline of the trees and the road in between her and the beach but she knew when she saw him she could come out of cover and get to him before they got to her.

‘Megan, Megan,’ voices called from inside the woods.

She didn’t turn. She just kept looking out to sea. They would be upon her soon but she needed to concentrate. Today might be the day.

She felt hands grip her arms and pull her to her feet.

‘Megan. Come on now, time to go back. You know you’re not supposed to be out here.’

Megan slowly turned her eyes away from the beach and looked up at the young woman holding her arm. ‘When Charlie gets back he needs me. I’m his support team.’

‘Not today Megan, come on we need to get back now.’

‘No Charlie needs me.’ Megan wrestled her arm away from the woman and started to get up. As she rose the woman stood in front of her blocking the beach from view.

‘Get out of the way. I need to look for Charlie,’ Megan shouted trying to push the woman aside.

‘Come on now Megan, Charlie came out down the coast we need to go to him,’ a man appeared out of the trees and took hold of Megan’s hand.

‘Really.’

‘Yes. You know what the currents can be like. He drifted off course and the other team have him. Come on back to the house now and we will see him there.’

The young woman looked at the man and started to say something. He shook his head and started to lead Megan back to the house. They walked through the forest one either side of Megan, both alert and talking slowly to her.

They emerged from the forest onto a large manicured lawn with an old country manor nestled on the opposite side. Five concrete steps led up to open French doors and what looked like a large sitting room. They led Megan into the house.

‘Charlie. Is he here?’ Megan looked at her two guardians. Her eyes glancing from one to the other trying to work out what they were hiding from her.

‘He’s in the house.’

Megan released herself from their hold and ran inside. She instinctively rushed upstairs to her room. He wasn’t there. Where was Charlie? Megan turned and was about to run back down stairs when a nurse appeared.

‘Megan. There you are. It’s time for your medicine.’

‘Charlie, I need to see Charlie.’

‘He is resting now sweetheart, just like you should be.’

‘But I need to see him.’

‘Once you’ve had your tablets.’

‘Not Now.’

‘Don’t be stroppy now. You want to be your best for him don’t you?’

Megan nodded, sat down on the edge of her bed and held out her hand. The nurse passed her a little plastic cup containing two tablets and a plastic beaker half full of water. Megan swallowed the tablets as she knew she must. She was asleep before the nurse left the room.

 

                                *********************************************************

‘Morning Megan and how are we feeling today,’ the nurse called as she pushed open the door with her large backside and entered the room backwards pulled a large trolley in with her.  She was halfway across the room before she brought the trolley to a halt and looked over at the bed. In the half light of the room she couldn’t make out Megan and assumed she was still asleep. The nurse left her trolley and walk over to the window.

‘Come on sleepy head,’ she called as she quickly yanked the large curtains open. She turned and looked twice at the bed. There was no Megan, just a lump of duvet and pillows that might have been an effort to make it look like Megan, or it might have just been the way the bed linen fell when Megan got up. The bathroom door was closed.

‘Megan, Megan are you in there?’ the nurse called as she knocked on the door. ‘Megan.’

The door swung open and she stared into an empty room.

‘Shit.’

                                ***************************************************

Megan walked onto the beach just as he walked out of the sea.

‘Charlie, Charlie, you made it,’ she ran up and threw her arms around him.

‘What the?’ he tried to push her off and as she stepped back he collapsed onto the sand.

Suddenly people were rushing round, ignoring her, wrapping towels and body warming sheets around him. Someone else was trying to feed him an energy bar. Megan stood still as all the people rushed around her. After a few minutes they help the man to his feet and ushered him towards a campervan park at the side of the road by the beach.

Megan stood still, ‘Charlie, please Charlie. It’s me.’

She was still stood there twenty minutes later. The man looked out the window as they pulled away. ‘Who was she?’

‘Who knows? Just some doddery old dear. Maybe she’s a fan.’

                                *****************************************************

 

‘Megan you have a visitor,’ the nurse shook Megan awake.

‘What? Who? Is it Charlie?’

‘No Megan, It’s a young man. He says he met you on the beach yesterday. Do you remember?’

‘I went to the beach yesterday?’

‘You remember we had to bring you back again.’

‘I have to wait for Charlie. He needs me.’

‘Megan let’s get you dressed and then you can meet Ian.’

The nurse help Megan get dressed and took her down to the breakfast room. As Megan walked into the room her face lit up as she saw the young man sitting by the window at her table. She rushed over, a quick slipper shuffle. The young man stood up and helped her into the chair next to him.

‘Megan, Megan Smithson?’

‘Charlie, oh Charlie. It’s you isn’t it.’

‘No Mrs Smithson. My name’s Ian. I met you on the beach yesterday.’

‘You’re not Charlie? But I saw you coming out of the sea. Charlie was supposed to come out of the sea.’

‘Mrs Smithson. I came to see you because I was hoping you could tell me about Charlie. I have read so much about him. He’s the reason I’m a cross channel swimmer. I was hoping you could tell me about him.’

‘I have photos somewhere but the nurses, they don’t let me look at them. They say it gets me upset.’

‘How about I ask them and then I come back later and we can look at them together.’

‘Would you? That would be nice.’

‘Okay I’ll see you later.’

                                ****************************************************

Ian visited Megan every day for a week. She lit up when he came into the room and only mistook him for Charlie once. They talked about all of Charlie’s swimming and how he first got into open water swimming.

‘This photo here this is on the coast of France when he was starting his cross channel swim,’ Megan pointed to a photo of a smiling man, wearing goggles on his head and covered in Goose fat.

‘Were you with him in France?’ Ian asked

‘No I was part of the back-up team here in the UK. I was waiting on the beach ready with warm blankets and food and drink.’

‘What happened Megan?’

Megan slowly stroked the photo. Gently touching the smiling face. A tear fell onto the photo.

‘I’m so sorry Megan. I didn’t mean to upset you.’ Ian held her hand.

‘He’s not coming back is he?’

‘No Megan. They lost him mid channel. Did they not tell you?’

‘They tried but I just sat there waiting. That’s why I always go back to the beach, just in case.’

‘Megan it’s been fifty years.’

‘Fifty years. Has it really been that long?’ Megan looked up at Ian and then down at the photo. ‘He’s not coming back is he?’

‘No Megan.’

‘Can you give me a minute please?’

‘Of course. I’ll fetch us some tea.’ Ian patted her hand and headed off to the lunch room to see if he could round up a cup of tea.

‘Ian. How’s Megan today?’ a tall man in a white coat approached Ian as he was pouring boiling water into the tea pot.

‘Good afternoon Dr Sheppard. I’m afraid I may have upset her a little. We talked about the day Charlie went missing.’

‘Really? She has never talked about that day before.’

‘I hope I haven’t done anything wrong.’ Ian place the tea pot onto the tray with two cups.

‘No, not at all. She has needed to talk about Charlie for a long time. Maybe she can finally get closure. Do you mind if I join you for tea?’

‘Of course not.’ Ian placed a third cup on the tray and carried the tray into the sitting room. Megan was sitting back in her arm chair with her eyes closed hugging the photo to her chest in her right hand. Dr Sheppard quicken his pace to overtake Ian and lifted her left wrist. After a few seconds he shook his head.

‘I’m afraid she’s gone.’

Ian slowly lowered himself into the chair, the tea tray still in his hands. ‘I can’t believe she’s gone just like that. She seemed so well.’

‘Maybe she did get the closure she needed. She finally admitted that she didn’t need to wait for Charlie. He was waiting for her.’

Seaside Memories

The wind blows softly through my hair, blowing it off my face. I smile to myself. It feels good now it’s grown back. Better than the crew cut of just six months ago. The shingle digs in a little but I jiggle my bottom and it settles into a comfortable hollow. I watch as the sun slowly starts its descent towards the horizon.

The salt air tingles on my lips and the fresh sea air fills my nostrils. No dank smelling seaweed here. Each day the sea rushes in and cleanses the shingle beach.

Children call out in the distance but I sit too far away from the sandy strip and the amusements for them to be a bother.

How many times have I sat here like this? Watching the sea. The ebb and flow. Watching the windsurfers, the paddle boarders and further out the jet skiers. On the horizon a ship steams along. I assume a cargo ship bound for the Americas; I am too far down the coast for it to be a cross channel ferry.

I remember the last time we were here. You pushed me up the ramp, struggled, and gasped for air. But you persevered and got me to the sea wall. I was losing weight but the NHS don’t lend out modern light weight wheelchairs. You wrapped an old tartan blanket around my legs and tucked me in tight. The next thing I remember was you beside me, panting and dripping ice cream on my arm. You had run all the way to the stand and back. We sat watching the sea, eating our ice creams. The wind whipping round and clouds racing overhead. Winter by the sea, my favourite time.

And now I am back. I beat it. I fought it. We fought it. I couldn’t have done it without you. Always there to hold my hand, to make me feel better.

Why couldn’t I do the same for you? Why did you get a chance to fight? Were you too tired after my fight? Did you lose concentration or was it the other guy? They never said. I never asked.

And so now I sit here. Alone. Watching the sea.

KDP – How I became a bestselling author

Sales for the Stripper of the Yard had gone well for the first three weeks but having run out of family and friends, I needed to find other ways to get the news of my book out to the world at large.

First I advertised on a number of free author platforms. Unfortunately there is no way of knowing if anyone is viewing these. Still no new sales.

Then up pops a request for me to support another author’s thunderclap promotion. I had never heard of thunderclap and for those who haven’t, it is a crowd sourcing platform. Rather than asking people to give you their money, it asks people to give you access to their social media platform. You need to get a minimum of 100 people to offer you their support and if your target is achieved at an appointed time a tweet or Facebook advert is sent out to all the connections of your supporters. I was amazed that my book was being tweeted to over 217,000 people.

My book was tweeted and while I am still hopeful, I have yet to see any new sales.

Looking for new ideas I was quite pleased to see my monthly newsletter from KDP pop up into my in box.

There at the top of the email was a link to a YouTube video of a KDP bestselling author. These appear each month and unfortunately this one was exactly the same as all the others. In the video an author sits and tells of her journey to bestselling authorship through using KDP and createspace. Yet again when it gets to the point as to how the author attracted readers she says she did nothing and that the readers came to her.

How can this be?

How does this help those of us who need to attract readers?

Why does KDP feel the need to only share the stories of people who magically sold thousands of books over night?

I do not begrudge the success of other authors but can’t we see the story of an author who struggled in the start, but has achieved greatness now. It would be great to know that one day all this hard work would pay off. If the ability to attract readers is all written in the stars is there any point pushing my book? There must be some way to let readers know I exist without being ‘traditionally’ published.

Come on KDP give those of us who are struggling some hope. Show us authors who never gave up hope and struggled to start with. Show us how the hard work is worth it.

 

Blog Tour Day 6 - April Fool

April Fool originally started life as my entry into the 2014 April A to Z Challenge. The premise behind the challenge is that entrants post a blog every day except Sundays. This means there are 26 posts needed and each one should be linked in some way to the next letter of the alphabet.

Once I got started I realised that there was the potential to write a novella with each day being the next chapter in the story. It was a fascinating experience and written as it was I had no idea where the story was going until I wrote the following day’s chapter.

It got a little tricky nearing the end, trying to make sure everything come together but not until final day’s post.

After the project was over, I reviewed what I had written, tweaked and edited it and my novella April Fool was born.

Here is an extract from the book. Enjoy!

J is for January

I’ve been planning this since January. Four whole months and everything is going well. This has to be my best New Year’s resolution ever. I got a little low in February, when it looked like he was going to report the poison pen letters. I don’t know what stopped him, but I suppose even the bad guys have to get a little lucky every once in a while.

Everything is going to plan so far. I need to keep an eye out for that policeman but he’s no Sherlock Holmes. He hasn’t even worked out what it’s all about. He’s doing everything I expected him to do. I’m still one step ahead of him.

My master stroke was the letters. The police worked out pretty quickly the three I had sent. I can’t believe he thought the use of the student newsletter was a mistake. Does he really think I would be so stupid?

Shame Grandma rang when she did. I was hoping she would be incommunicado for a lot longer. Her living in a Spanish back water was a dream come true to my master plan. It got them out of the house and gave me the chance I needed.

The finger was harder to get than I thought. Getting it into the pile of presents was the easy bit. I’m a bit disappointed they haven’t spotted my clue on the wrapping paper yet, but you never know. Forensics takes a lot longer than you think in the real world.

Not long now and everything will finally come together. I can’t wait to see their faces when they realise it was me all along. Then they’ll realise what this is all about, but not before I get exactly what I want.

Biog

Jo Jenner started writing professionally at the age of 40 and hasn’t looked back since.

Jo still works as a certified accountant and manages to fit her writing in during evenings and weekends.

She enjoys writing short stories and a number of flash fiction stories have been published under the title of ‘So the Feeling Shows’.

Always one for a challenge Jo took on the A to Z challenge in April 2014. This resulted in ‘April Fool,’, which was written over 26 days in April, using a different letter of the alphabet for each chapter.

Jo lives with her husband on the south coast of England, her dream location, and says walks along the sea front always help generate story ideas.

Jo can be found on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/#!/jojennerauthor

Or twitter @jojenner40

And regularly blogs on http://jojenner.blogspot.co.uk