Sunday, 21 April 2019

Saturday, 23 March 2019

A new departure


Images of my six published books to date: The Leviathan Trilogy (2009, 2010,2011); A Shed in a Cucumber Field (2014); An Iron Yoke (2016); A Vision of Locusts (2017, published by Instant Apostle.)

Now there's a new novel called The Healing Knife, to be published by Lion Hudson in March 2020, which it's hoped might be the beginning of a series. A new experience for me! Cover design is under way, and editing to begin soon. I'll keep you updated.

Monday, 17 September 2018

A new and engaging website

The innovative publisher of my last book A Vision of Locusts has rolled out a new website with features on its authors as well as up-to-date news and a statement of their mission. It's well worth a visit!

Sunday, 29 October 2017

A Vision of Locusts is launched

A week after being officially released, a week of garnering reviews, we had a party to celebrate and send A Vision of Locusts out into the world in style.
Few ventures are the work of one person, and a new book is no exception. From conception to publication others are involved and make a contribution; and after publication this is even more true. I am grateful to all those who have supported me faithfully and with considerable effort, especially on the night of the launch when I was kept busy welcoming guests, speaking and signing.
That was just the beginning: the work of publicity and marketing goes on, in parallel with the beginning of a new novel (but that's another story!)

Tuesday, 29 August 2017

And it's here!

It's always a special moment when you take delivery of the first physical copies of a new book. By the time this moment arrives it seems a long time since you wrote it, and there have been many, many edits and proof-reads in between.
It's due for release on 20 October both
as a paperback and to download to Kindle, and you can pre-order now.
If you get to read it, I'd hugely appreciate a review on Amazon, goodreads, or wherever you like. Reviews are often an author's only feedback and are immensely helpful. Thank you!

Sunday, 4 June 2017

A new book!

My latest novel - the sixth - is scheduled to appear this autumn, 2017. It's a new departure for me: having so far published independently, this one is published by Instant Apostle. Here's the cover to look out for.

More later!

Saturday, 27 May 2017

A different world

We have just come back from a week-long trip to the Scilly Isles - for non-UK readers, a tiny archipelago 28 miles off the coast of Cornwall. These 5 inhabited islands (and others ranging from small isles once inhabited to bare rocks) are huddled close together and can be seen from each other, except when a sea-mist comes down and blots everything out.  They are also well-known for their bird life, and indeed we saw puffins, razorbills, fulmars, gannets, and the islands' recent success story, shearwaters; plus Atlantic seals and, briefly, dolphins.
Getting there is  bit of a mission: for us a train to London then a sleeper train down to Penzance, and the once-daily crossing on the ferry, Scillonian. When the weather permits, a small aircraft also plies a regular short trip across to the largest island, St Mary's, from Newquay, Exeter or Land's End.

Between the islands small open boats, taking about 40 passengers, bounce across the waves to simple quays, and sometimes they drop you off at one quay and pick you up at another because there isn't enough water: the tides have to be closely observed.

The permanent population of the islands is 2,200; of these 1,800 are on St Mary's, and the remaining 400 are shared between St Agnes, St Martin's, Tresco and Bryher. With so few people it is easy to find yourself the only human in sight.

We had a fine view across St Mary's harbour from our accommodation. Scillonian is moored at the quay, dwarfing the little boats.

The islanders are friendly and welcoming, robust and self-sufficient. They make ice cream from a tiny Jersey herd, keep chickens, ducks and geese, grow vegetables and herbs, and catch fish, of course.
There are numerous fine places to refuel after a strenuous walk. We walked our feet off, sometimes over quite rugged terrain, such that (luckily on the last day) the soles peeled off my  boots (which I have to admit were ancient.) On the uplands the soil is peaty, dark and spongy, supporting chiefly heather and gorse. The bones of the land can be seen where it meets the sea, eroded into boulder-tumbled cliffs by the crashing surf, especially on the Atlantic coast of Bryher. On the other side, and on St Martin's in particular, are wide sweeps of white-sand bays, with not a soul on them, apart from the occasional fishing boat.

On the lower ground there grew plants I'd never seen before, including succulents which often totally engulfed the dry-stone walls over which they scrambled, and echium which towered over our heads; but for exotic plants there was a spectacular setting: the Abbey garden on Tresco, home to plants originating in Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, Mexico, the Canaries  and other unexpected places, helped by the Gulf Stream which gives this corner freedom from frost.

My favourite place of all, hard as it was to choose, was the tiny, but still used, church overlooking Old Town beach. We approached it from the cliffs, coming down to a rugged bay. It is surrounded by trees and almost invisible. The churchyard, where the founder of the Tresco garden, Augustus Smith, and a former UK Prime Minister, Harold Wilson, are buried, is serenity itself.

Of course island life is dominated by the sea, and the sea provides a favourite sport - pilot-gig racing. Every Wednesday evening the ladies race, and every Friday it's the men's turn.

On our last day we had some hours to while away before Scillonian sailed, and we spent an hour in the small but immensely interesting museum. I was particularly taken with the vivid accounts of the many ships which have been wrecked off the Scillies over the years: no surprise, when you see the jagged rocks and lurking sandbars, especially in centuries before reliable navigation aids. In 1707 three ships of the Royal Navy were wrecked on the Outer Gilstone Rock with great loss of life, including the Admiral of the Fleet, Sir Cloudesley Shovell. His body was washed up on Porth Hellick beach where there is a memorial to him; now he is buried in Westminster Abbey.