Tuesday, 19 February 2019

BREXIT and who is hurting now?

I sit here now in my kitchen and I quietly curse David Cameroon.

Why?

I don’t know him personally; we’ve never met yet his decision when in power in the UK to deal with his fears of a small band of BREXIT followers by offering the English people a referendum on whether to stay within the EU or leave has had massive ramifications for me and tens of millions of others, yet BREXIT has yet to occur and may never occur.

Go back a further ten years and you will find us in the financial crash of 2005 – 2010. That’s when our pillar banks turned to salt and Irelands government decided to introduce a new universal tax (USC) of c4% (which is still with us) and decided to raid only private pension pots stealing .6% of their values, three years on the trot.

The economy ground to a halt, millions lost their jobs and half-built ghost housing estates still litter the landscape of Ireland today. For many, the crash wiped out their entire portfolio of investments, properties and shares. All fell in value, sometimes to zero, some never to recover. People fell victims to stress, illness and even suicide as they struggled to keep businesses, doomed to fail, afloat. The crash itself just went on and on and on, year after year despite all the central banks printing money. In industry, no one had confidence in anyone else and the printing of money simply slashed the values of savings. You might as well have put the money in a bag under the bed for the return it got in a bank. It’s not much better even now.

However, we got through that, eventually, and then David Cameroon steps up to the plate in 2016. For purely political gain, he promises a referendum to the people of the UK and goes on to win a landslide re-election to power. When the date is set for the 23rd June 2016 the wording of his referendum is unambiguous, that much is true but the risks are underplayed and the people as sold a dream scenario if they voted leave.

 Almost all the UK political parties support a Yes vote and it is left to UKIP and a few loners to campaign for the No vote right up to the day of the referendum itself, a Yes vote was anticipated by both the markets and the media. How wrong were they?

Having lived and worked in the UK for twenty years I thought I knew UK’s mindset, but you see I had lived and worked in London for twenty years. London voted Yes but large swathes of the country outside London didn’t. London had always been a swirling vortex of immigrants from the rest of the world. Some came and stayed forever, some for a while but many came and went.

Outside London, in the rest of the UK, there was a simmering resentment of immigrants, even from migrants of only a few years previous.  I’ve spoken to many UK citizens since the vote and from all parts of the realm, outside London there was a tangible dislike of the “recent” wave of immigrants because many arrived without the ability to speak English, were housed in council housing before local children were and were perceived as responsible for an increase in crime in the areas they were settled in. At local schools, the pace of learning in classes slowed as a large element of newcomers hadn’t enough English language skills to keep up with the course so the class slowed down to accommodate them. These are broad sweeping generalities that I cast across immigrants but surprisingly the UK citizens I met maintained this was their own real experiences in their own localities.

It seemed to rural and industrial town and village occupants that the UK Government was just dropping hundreds of immigrants in their midst and wiping their hands of them.

Now, this may well have been happening but may not necessarily have been because of membership of the EU. Britain had an empire of its own of, at one time, 800 million people and until fairly recently all of them had the right to an English passport and to come and live in the UK. Few expected them to do so until the advent of cheap travel by plane and ship offered migrants easy access to the UK and they came in their droves, fed on tales of gold strewn pavements brought back by a previous generation.

Back in the 1950s and 1960’s the Irish, Indian, Pakistani and West Indian countries had been the source of inward flowing immigrants which feed a need for cheap labour to fuel the economy. In the following decades more Commonwealth immigrants arrived and no doubt more EU workers migrated inwards too.  When the crash of 2005 hit, many of these EU workers lost their jobs and hadn’t the infrastructure of family and friends to help them survive the crash. Many returned home but some didn’t and became a drain on the UK welfare system. Now the recovery has taken place these EU citizens are largely back at work and contributing to the UK economy.

But the expanding EU, with the UK sitting at the top table, did allow, in recent years, the addition of Eastern European states whose citizens after a waiting period, arrived illiterate and uneducated in the UK. Soon their like became as notorious in the UK countryside as the travelling tinkers who travelled in convoys and parked their caravans on parks, cricket pitches and any open ground that they could access.

Yes, there were well-educated migrants from those countries but they are not the reason why the UK voted to leave the EU.

The EU was also a soft target for the migration blame issue and was frequently used as such by the UK politicians but how the UK implemented the EU migration policy was largely left up to the UK government, not the EU. Also, the UK had opted out of the Schengen Area, an area comprising of 26 European states that have officially abolished passport and all other types of border control at their mutual borders. The UK controlled its own borders and had it within its own powers to tighten or loosen controls.

Unbelievably David Cameron and his fellow parliamentarians sailed towards the BREXIT iceberg unaware of the depth of feeling that swayed 52% of the populace to vote No on that fateful day in June 2016. Of course, he resigned but I feel he if he felt that strongly about the UK staying in the EU he should have stayed on and sorted out his mess. 

Now almost three years later things are still in abeyance. It looks like the UK will leave but on what terms are far from clear. For the UK the freedom of negotiating, unfettered by an EU customs union, their own trade deals with the rest of the world may be won at the expense of losing free access to the EU markets.

What is clear is that big business cannot sit on the fence any longer and the large supply chain manufacturers have run out of time and had to act to protect their businesses. So going out of the UK is Nissan's manufacturing of their new X-trail and Honda’s entire manufacturing presence. Out is going all the EU bodies previously headquartered in the UK and the European headquarters of many global corporations that need access to the EU markets.

A fair number of EU citizens have called it a day in the UK and uprooted and headed elsewhere. A larger than normal, number of UK citizens have applied for EU citizenship, particularly Irish citizenship.

Finally, I’d like to say that the UK citizens I feel most strongly for are the UK pensioners living in the EU who have seen their pensions drop by 20% in real terms and seen their pension portfolio if they had one, decimated by the 2005-2010 crash and further devalued by the BREXIT fiasco. How they are coping is anyone’s guess but there must have been a very real tightening of belts since that fateful day, vote day +1 when sterling fell off that cliff.

Further uncertainty awaits them as a no-deal BREXIT means their pension sterling payments may devalue further, their access to reciprocal EU medical services and their ability to drive in Europe using UK licences are in the balance.
What a position to put the average 75-year-old retiree in? How would you like your grandparents to endure this uncertainty at their stage of life?

Politicians in the UK parliament should move across party lines and unite in the national interest to agree something, anything to bring certainty to this unwieldy lethal mess.











Thursday, 14 February 2019

New music for 2019




George Blamey-Steeden is some talented guy. I've been following him on Wordpress for ages and he is just a creative hive of activity with prose and music. Well worth a listen. 

Happy "Ukulele" Valentines Day


Forgotten Valentines day?

I woke with a start this morning and realised I'd completely forgotten St. Valentine Day. I prayed to the watch that it didn't confirm the date. It did. Bugger. Without disturbing her and without washing I dressed and tiptoed downstairs. This day can still be rescued I thought as I wrapped up warm in my jogging hat, heavy coat and gloves.

The dog was an added complication but also my savour. Without him, I'd have slept on but his plaintive bark had roused me with minutes to spare. I gathered his leash and a black plastic bag and stuffed a wallet in my pocket.

I opened the door to the warmest February 14th in living memory. Too late to change gear we set off on his morning walk and I held myself back from dragging him onwards as time ticked bye for this walk was his one outing of the morning and every pole and patch of grass held untold secrets to his nose. Finally, we reached the turn and started the return leg that took us past his regular drop zone, a secondary school. Still, I was preoccupied with how to return with a suitably romantic present for my loved one. Then he did it. "Happy St Valentines day," I said to myself as I collected the load which was squidgy and warm inside my bag. Next stop the garage forecourt and a waste bin I used for disposing of his offering.

This doggy event turned out also to be my savour. The smell was unmissable, coming from inside the garage building. Not pooh,  no far from it. Emminating was the sweet smell of a Subway cafe, the fresh bread, good coffee and the breakfast 6" roll.

"Happy Valentines Day!" I announced as I pulled back the bedroom blinds and revealed the brilliant sun to a still slumbering woman. She rubbed her eyes, blinking and coming to terms with the new day. On her bedside table lay a mug of steaming coffee and a something wrapped in a white paper roll.

"Oh" she said "You shouldn't have" the words were blurted out before she saw properly the gift.

"NO REALLY, you shouldn't have!" she repeated in a less loving manner! My last minute gamble appeared to have failed. However even as she spoke the aroma of coffee and freshly cooked sausages, egg and rashers on soft white bread were creeping into her nostrils. She was actually hungry and it did smell good.

"That's another first my love, no one has ever bought me a Subway for a valentines gift." she said softly. "Happy Valentines Day - now let's get stuck in it - I'm starvin!"
'



Tuesday, 12 February 2019

Put me on hold

“John, I got him on hold, it’s that guy again.”
Frank allowed an element of dissatisfaction slip into his voice. I could hear clearly he was pissed off. Unfortunately for him, I wasn’t on hold and I heard every word he uttered for the next 3 minutes.
“OK, OK Frank, just give me a minute and I’ll be with you. I have my own customers to manage. Get the paperwork together and I’ll be with you in a minute.”
Frank returned to me.
“Hello Mr Rodgers, can I keep you on hold for another minute as my colleague is coming free and will help me with your case.” Very professional Frank I thought to myself.
“Sure Frank I’ll hold”
Again Frank failed to master the “hold” button and I awaited developments.
Eventually, John was free to help Frank and Frank laid it on him.
“Mr Rodgers signed up for broadband 13 days ago and today he’s on my case from the get-go. I mean at 9.00 am on the fucking dot he rang my mobile. Of course, I didn’t pick it up. By 9.30am he’s on again and I still didn’t pick it up. Now he’s rung the shop and is on hold“
“You knew it was him?”
“Not the first time but I checked the number and saw it was him.”
“What’s the problem, Frank? You made a broadband service sale – congratulations buddy!”
“No John I fucked up and now he’s making me pay for it. I forgot to register the order for 5 days and then after that, I didn’t get the engineer to install the line for another 5 days. When the engineer installed the line I forgot to order the modem which will take 4 days from today to be delivered. Then it will take 7 days from today to switch the broadband on. ”
“Sounds like business as normal to me Frank”
“Whose side are you on asshole?”
“Put your dolls back in the pram mister, I’m just messing with you. So what’s the problem?”
“The problem is he has a 14 day trial period that started when he placed the order and will run out today. “
“So”
“So if he finds that out and cancels today I lose the commission worth €150.”
“There is no way he can go live today as he hasn’t the modem. Just promise him it’ll be delivered tomorrow along with the live broadband. By then it’ll be too late to cancel and your commission is in the bag. Go on tell him, tell him now.”
Frank thought for a nanosecond and then clicked the hold button.
“Mr Rodgers?”
I interrupted him.
“Yes, Frank” and before he could continue…
“Tell me about the modem delivery tomorrow and the broadband going live tomorrow and then about the goblins that live in the bottom of my garden.”
“THE ORDER IS CANCELLED and if you don’t want another day like today please learn to use the God damn phone Hold button”.
“Mr Rodgers, Mr Rodgers……. are you still there Mr Rodgers?

Monday, 11 February 2019

Weight Loss humor and tips

Weight Loss is no laughing matter. Being overweight can kill you and certainly shorten your life but here a few comments and tips overheard at recent meetings I have attended.
Mummy Tax is when you buy all the kids chocolates but have to taste them first so they don’t get poisoned.
Hide Your Food. The diet food is sometimes so tasty some women resort to falsely labelling the food in the fridge in a desperate effort to save the food for themselves. Pam hid her Spaghetti Bolognese inside a container labelled Cabbage.
Slow Cooker – a woman in the class was introduced to a slow cooker, put her food in on day one and the cooker was so slow she didn’t get fed that day.
 ” I nearly ate me hands going to bed  I was that famished”
Weight Loss should be a no pressure affair – pressure is only for tyres!
Kelly had lost 4 stone 11 pounds in a year. “I’m going home to weigh my kids and find which one I have lost!”
Save your left over’s from meals. They can be lifesavers!
Daily Weigh in - This works for me but you may find otherwise. I weigh myself every morning before breakfast. That way I can react to the increase in weight immediately and alter my diet for the day ahead to get myself back on course. Leave it to once a week or less frequent and you may be so disheartened by the increase that you give up the battle all together! 
Don't eat anything after 9.00 pm. That's it! 
Switch from wine to Martini + low-fat lemonade/ tonic. Put a dollop in the bottom of the glass and fill up with lemonade/tonic but leave space for a final drop of Martini. This gives the kick!
Smaller portions - if you eat anything and it takes more than five minutes to eat then the chances are you are eating portions that are too big.
Snack Ready - slice an apple or a pear, carry a packet of figs or brazil nuts. Always be prepared for a snack attack. Eat more frequently through the day small portions.
Drink lots of water. Often we eat when in fact we are thirsty and dehydrated. 
A Good Diet leads to weight loss, exercise leads to toning and fitness.
Let me know how you get on! Good Luck! Mark 



Saturday, 9 February 2019

My favorite childhood meal

The deepest rooted meals in my childhood memory were those meals I enjoyed in celebration of events in other people’s lives and not my own. Meals in our house could hardly be called “celebratory”.
I was the eldest of four boys that grew up in the 1950s and 1960s. Mealtime was a “stretch or starve” session that, after Mum’s hours of slaving over the food in a steamy kitchen, was consumed in 5 minutes flat. My father said that what he witnessed daily in our kitchen was on par with the monkey enclosure in the Dublin Zoo at feeding time when in those days, the monkeys were sat in chairs at a table and food was served up on plates and drinks in cups and bedlam ensued.
Then in a flash, the meal was eaten, we were gone, out to play or kill each other, leaving my parents to clean up the mess and relax with a cup of tea, safe to enjoy their lives for another 3 hours when it would happen all over again. Mum, in the face on the insatiable feeding needs of her offspring, resorted to casseroles, stews and soups by the bucket load. Sausages served on their own lasted nanoseconds on the plate so she used to cook “Toad in a hole” pork sausages cooked in a crispy Yorkshire pudding served with onion gravy and accompanied by a large dollop of mashed potatoes. Mmmmmmmmm.
In all my childhood I don’t recall a single meal celebrating my birth, but I’m sure there must have been. I was the first of four. What chance had the others of parties if I was forgotten? I’m sure it happened. My parents were both loving and sensitive people. It must have. If you pushed me I can reluctantly tell you of my 21st birthday party, the memories of which I will take to my grave. That year, 1976, my parents gave me a choice of what I could have for my birthday.
“You can have a suit or a party? Which is it?”
It started about 6.30pm when my Dad arrived home with a barrel of Smithwick's ale and set it up in the kitchen doorway with my younger brother to man the pumps. It contained about 130 pints of beer. I was in charge of the music which was located in the lounge and Mum and Dad parked themselves in the sitting room, a no go area for party guests.
I was a fairly quiet sporty sort of youth, attended a school and then college both miles away from home so knew few locals and fewer still of my fellow students who lived around the college. I played on the rugby, soccer and GAA teams so I invited them and then at the last class on Friday, without much thought, I invited all my Business Studies course mates. I’ll be frank with you. I had no idea who or how many would turn up.
“When did I know the party was getting out of control?”
I suppose the time my Dad drew me to one side and asked me to ask the “guests” to stop pissing in the garden and sneaking up in pairs to my bedroom, just off the lounge.
Also, I had to guide a few guests in as they didn’t know where my house was and it was then that I noticed the neighbours three doors up had hung a notice on the gates saying “Rodgers are 3 houses down at 34”. I guess my original directions could have been better.
Not being let back into the house by a complete stranger was also a sign that things were not as they should have been.
“It’s my party” I bellowed over the din coming from inside.
“Yeah, they all say that – now Fuck Off!” he retorted and shut the door in my face!
About 2.00am the beer ran out and about 2.30am Mum had retreated from the sitting room as a tall bearded scruffy course mate had entered the no go zone and lay down his weary inebriated body in front of the fire. Looking down on Shane, spread-eagled and sleeping peacefully I thought he had more than a passing resemblance to Jesus Christ. My Dad didn’t see it that way and ordered me to shift him out of the house by any means available. He was carried into the back of Brendan’s van and I watched as it pulled away from the house, noisily rattling and belching black smoke.
By 3.00am we closed the door on the last of the stragglers and I found my camera, hidden by a “friend” early in the evening under a mound of coats and jackets in the cloakroom.
I, therefore, have only two pictures of my 21st, both taken at this unearthly hour and showing a red-faced sweaty, freckled youth with dishevelled clothing and a worn expression.
So no, I don’t have a favourite childhood meal but thanks for asking!

Friday, 8 February 2019

Moving Out

On a sunny midmorning, on a lovely Spring day, in Kilmacud Secondary School Miss Claire decided to calm things down a bit in Class 1A. The 32 twelve-year-olds had been pretty good for almost an hour as she’d moved through a boring class on the Postal Service. She’d done her best to make it interesting with lots of the usual role play but the kids hadn’t engaged in it, unlike yesterday with the rocket building project, and all were relieved to make it to break time.
Now with the break behind them all piled back into the overfull classroom, hot and giddy from the ten minutes of running around in the concrete and fenced play yard. It was time to start English and she had a poem in her hand to go when she decided to change the running order and do the “show and tell” piece first.
“Mary, can you open the windows a bit, we’re melting in here?” Claire said and “Brian, Brian …….. Brian put Zoe down! I’m not going to tell you again. Yes, the right way up please.”
“Can you help Mary with the windows, the ones she can’t reach? Good lad”
“OK, OK Class, le do thoil ciúin (Irish for quiet please)”
“Right now I am going to ask each of you to tell me what happened on your street yesterday. So think back to yesterday and what was going on in your street?”
“Was the postman delivering a parcel?
“Was some of your neighbours working in the garden?”
“Were there children playing in the street? Have a quick think.”
“I’ll give you a minute and then I’ll go round the class and give each of you a chance to tell me what was going on in your street”.
While Claire was speaking she felt a vibration in her pocket and knew a text had arrived. The minute gave her a chance to read the message. It was Mum saying she’d picked up a free 3 day pass for her gym and would Claire like it?
He fingers swiftly typed out a reply on the tiny popup keyboard.“No thanks Mum, no time at present, next assignment due Monday. See you and the Andrew monster at 6.00pm. XXXX Claire”
The phone slipped back into her pocket and she scanned the eager faces, all longing to be the first to get the session going. Kids, generally love the chance for free expression. They can’t be wrong in what they say and the whole class hangs on their every word. It is hard to choose who to start with from so many so Claire chose not to.
“Let’s start at the back for a change and Jimmy, you can get us going. Tell us what happened on your street yesterday?”
It was a change in the process that caught Jimmy unawares. She never starts from the back he thought. Jimmy was texting with his hands under the desk and the phone supposedly surrendered on arrival at the school still in his hands. He shoved it quickly into the open shelf of the desk and turned to his best mate Mandela saying in a whispered voice
“What’s she on about?”
“Dunno,” said Mandela, helpfully. Jimmy then noticed Mandela had been texting on his phone so he wouldn’t be much use either.
“Jimmy, can I have your full attention, just for a minute.” Claire allowed a note of irritation to creep into her voice. She may have to march down to Jimmy’s corner and her feet were killing her. Should have stuck to the sensible shoes but she was invited to Michelle’s shop opening after school today and had opted for high heels all day rather than carry around a bag for the day. She was now regretting that decision big time. She hoped he’d respond and she wouldn’t have to slip the heels on to visit his desk.
Jimmy was a problem kid, they all were. His three uncles and three aunts before him had gone through Kilmacud Secondary & Primary School and they had all caused mayhem for teachers. A chip off the old block thought Claire remembering their father Brian or prisoner 145352GH as he is now called, now pushing 70 and still serving time.
OK being born into a traveller family is like drawing one of the short straws in life but why do they all have to suffer the same fate she thought.  Behave the same way, drop out of school at 15 and have a criminal record the length of your arm by 16?
Jimmy as it is, was only at school half the school year as the family uprooted from the settled house they were given each May to go travelling. Travelling in the old days was in a horse-drawn wagon but these days it was in vans towing mobile homes. Jimmy’s family always went to England in the Summer on a tour of scenic locations where they would let themselves into farmer’s fields or local village parks and stay there until legal action forced them on, leaving piles of rubbish in their wake. In the old days, they offered services where they went.
“Need your knives sharpened Misses?” “Need some labour in the fields?”
These days they signed on to collect unemployment benefits under assumed names, offered to tarmac your driveways for a price or get rid of your rubbish or rubble.
Claire tried one last time
“Jimmy, can you please tell the class what happened on your street yesterday?”
“Yesterday…….. Monday?”
“Yes, Monday”
“Stand up now so we can all see and hear you. That’s it. Good lad.”
Jimmy started hesitantly, uneasy and unfamiliar with this much attention. He spoke in gruff short sentences.
“I was outside feed’in the horse, bout 7 in da morning when the Mr Snotface (Mr Snograss) and da guards (police) came knockin on Grandma’s door.”
“What did they want with Granny?” asked Claire, having a few unkind thoughts of her own.
She’d given “Granny” a bag of her old clothes only a month ago when she came knocking on the door seeking any old bricka brack Claire might have. “Granny” appeared grateful but that afternoon had only to walk round the corner from her house to find the contents of the bag blowing across the street near a bin “Granny” had aimed for but couldn’t bother to reach. Claire spent the next ten minutes re-bagging all the clothes and taking them home.
“They wanted her out of the house. They grabbed her by the arms and dragged her screamin and kickin to the van.”
Jimmy had by now the undivided attention of the entire class.
“What happened next?” asked Debbie.
“I ran over and tried to stop 'em but the big guard, Murphy gave me a backhand and I fell hard on the ground. I went again but this time he drew his pepper spray and pointed it at me so I stopped going at him.”
“Oh Jimmy, I’m sorry to hear about this. How’s Granny now?” asked Claire.
“She’s staying with us now,”Jimmy said, his voice flat and empty.
“And what about her house?” said Debbie. “Is anyone living there?”
“Na, they put a lock on the fuckin door and metal plates on all the windows and stuck a notice on the gate”
“Me and the bro’s tried to get the lock off last nite but it wouldn’t budge. We’re going again tonight so …. Jimmy eyed the class and he saw an opportunity.
“If any of yez want to help, I’ll see yea at the house at 10 tonight and we’ll free Gran’s house for her.”
“Are yea up for it?”
Jimmy now stood on his desk and raised his arm as he repeated the question, this time louder, bolder.
“Are yea up for it?”
After a moment of silence, he was greeted by a roar of “Yes” and the class stood up with him and many of the children leapt about hopping and screaming their support. Jimmy was overcome and a smile broke out across his face. He’d never been this popular!
“Free Granny, Free Granny” they all chanted.
Claire was gobsmacked and wasn’t sure what next to do.
This was not going to plan. Claire noticed Mrs Heaton, the Headmistress was now peering through the open classroom door and Claire had never been happier to see her.

Thursday, 7 February 2019

I don’t enjoy free writing

I don’t enjoy free writing.
I’m sorry, the idea leaves me unmoved and worse than that, paralysed with fear. I mean if I just sat and wrote the next thought that crossed my mind and followed it with the next thought and so on, which all may be totally unrelated, I’d be losing your attention almost immediately and deservedly.
Writing, in my mind, is telling a story not just letting the mind and fingers lose to scribble any old tosh on a piece of paper for you to read. If I have a story to tell then I will set about and tell it. If I don’t I won’t.
Right now I cannot think of any gem of an idea that I could write about and keep your attention for the next 270 words so adios amigos and ………….HOLD ON A SECOND ………………….. come back!
Hmmmmmm ….. OK – I’ve got one and this may be a great business opportunity for all of you that would like to set up a glossy magazine to rival “Hello”, that monthly publication that contains endless pages of pictures of Hollywood & Reality TV stars who have got married recently or bought a house or had a baby.
Are you ready for it? …. It’s got the potential to be HUGE….
I’ve kept it to myself for 6 years but now I’m going to let it go.
Maybe you can make it become a reality?
OK, here it is…..
it’s a biggie…..
“Goodbye”
“Goodbye” is the new monthly glossy magazine that gives you the inside story on all those Hollywood & Reality TV stars that have divorced, separated or had a conscious uncoupling in the recent past. Interviews with the party that wants to get their side of the story out and a few thousand dollars towards their legal bills. Spill the beans on why it didn’t work out, get a second chance to publish the pictures that failed to sell of the wedding, hell, sell the wedding dress! Read the Agony Aunt column that dispenses advice on prenuptial, alimony and property disposal. What to wear to the court? Makeup or natural? Top 10 Divorce Solicitors, Best states to get divorced in and on and on it goes…..
What do you think? Has it legs or what?
Interested?
Go on just go for it. You have my blessing. Just remember who thought of it first. Away you fly my baby……..

Wednesday, 6 February 2019

Hugs for Mummy

I was passed the book as the child’s preferred bedtime reading material and asked to read it to the very awake 4 years old that showed no sign of sleep. I reluctantly agreed as I was telling the third story of the night and had zero confidence that it would have any better success than its predecessors.

I picked it up and examined the book’s cover. Louise Coulthard and PS Brooks had done a lovely job on the large cover which contained a hand-drawn picture of a loving mummy deer and a doting baby deer.

Each double page within showed the pair with forest scenes and words like “Mummy, I love you. I feel so precious when you hug and hold me tight!”

Mummy, you find the tastiest treats when my tummy starts to rumble. Thank you for always leaving the yummiest pieces for me

Mummy, I love the fun we have when I run and leap and dash as fast as I can. You cheer me along and squeeze me tight when I stop for a cuddle. Watch how high I can jump!

Mummy, we always take time to smell the flowers. You show me how little moments of beauty can make every day special

Mummy, you reassure me when I am feeling shy. Things don’t feel as scary when you hold me close.

Mummy, you teach me to be kind when someone is having a hard time and to make sure no one is left out or left behind.

Mummy, we play the best games together. I love playing hide and seek with you and it’s just as much fun to cuddle when you find me!

Mummy, I love it when we splish and splash together in the river. I feel safe as we swim side-by-side through the clear water

Mummy, it’s so lovely and safe and warm when we snuggle up tight as you tell me the most magical bedtime stories.

Mummy your hugs are so special!

But do you know what my favourite hugs? When it’s my turn to hug you!

I LOVE YOU MUMMY

No Daddy then?

 As a father of two, who suffered hugely from parental alienation syndrome where, in my case, their mother dripped venom into young ears, I found this book profoundly disturbing in its one-sided portrayal of parenting.

It may well be that Daddy deer had been neglecting his duties as a father but if, as was the case here, this child was stuck between two warring parents this book could easily have been used, even subconsciously as a weapon for Mummy to reinforce her role as a parent and his as an absent parent.


It’s all in the eye of the beholder, isn’t it? I’m sure the author never thought for one moment that writing a children’s book about a mother’s love for her child and the child reciprocating could be viewed as divisive content helping to break up relationships and reinforce destructive stereotypes but there you are. 

Tuesday, 5 February 2019

"Murder On Board" goes on pre-order

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Murder On Board my new crime fiction thriller goes on pre-order today and at a special Pre-Order price of  99p/99c.  Please follow this link to avail of this price - https://geni.us/FxaA8

It is scheduled for release on 2nd May 2019 via Junction Publishing.

Holidays bring out the best and worst in people. Taking an adult only cruise holiday to the sunny Caribbean in mid-winter seemed a great idea.

What could go wrong?

Join Luke and his wife on the cruise of a lifetime which is memorable for all the wrong reasons as passengers die and tensions rise.

New chiller and mystery crime fiction novel
New Crime Fiction for 2019

Breakfast with a spy

The Conservatory, the last resort for late risers was under severe pressure from starving passengers who were approaching from every direction. It reminded me of the frenetic activity of termites within a mound. At first glance, the ants appear to be scurrying about in a random uncoordinated fashion but after some time, it becomes obvious that they are all following a specific course of action depending on their duties. The human “ants” in the Conservatory were crisscrossing the buffet area to find the food they wanted and find the shortest queue to get at it. People carrying trays with hot food and drinks weaved between each other to collect what they needed and then scurried back to their partner who held a seat for them at a table.
I did exactly the same and returned to Wifey to find two elderly passengers perched on the other chairs at our table. Wifey disappeared to collect her breakfast and I exchanged nods with the others. I started to consume my breakfast and observed our companions. They sat expressionless and silent as they observed the apparent mayhem occurring just a few feet away. He must have been 80 years plus and she possibly 70. They showed no interest in picking up breakfast. The clock on the wall ticked slowly towards 10.30am when breakfast finished so I asked the older man if I could get him any breakfast? “No, no thank you,” he said displaying his old discoloured teeth “I ate mine at 7.30am”. Then suddenly without as much as a how do you do the old lady rose and left the table. Apparently, they hadn’t known each other at all.
My offer had broken the ice and the man I think welcomed the opportunity to talk. He was very well spoken and he spoke directly and without emotion. His wife had died 4 years ago and this was their favourite ship and he now travels alone. He loves the ballroom dancing and now has no one to dance with. However, on the Oriana there are always women to dance with. He learnt to dance in the local village halls were tea dances were held. “And the Oriana is one of the few ships with a ballroom dance floor” he added. In fact, he’d already booked onto the follow on cruise and saved 25% of the cost by doing so.
“Had he been to Madiera, our second port of call?”
Yes, many times. He and his wife used to swim and scuba dive at Reid’s Hotel. “Marvellous swimming to be had there” he added.
Gradually he opened up and he physically unwound to reveal himself quite a tall man, over 6 foot. Wifey had returned by now and was tucking into her breakfast as he told us that he was married three times. His first wife was a “colonial wife” from Kuala Lumpur. “Fantastic golfer, but that’s all she did” he recounted. Where she came from any time she needed something she just clapped her hands and the servants made it so. I’m sure, I thought to myself, she had at least one other talent, in the bedroom. He’d travelled widely with his work and retired over thirty years ago in 1984. I rather tactlessly asked what he did and he surprisingly answered. “I worked in GCHQ in Cheltenham and other places abroad”. For a while, he had been based on the Pakistan border in Kashmere. “Osama Bin Laden was my neighbour,” he said with a wink of an eye. Since 9/11 didn’t occur until 2001 I think he meant geographically. He said everyone he dealt with in Pakistan was corrupt. Of course, you trusted no one in my business he added drily.
Had he seen service in the Second World War? Yes, he’d been in the naval intelligence division (NID) and after the war in 1965, the three service intelligence departments were merged. Not a total success he volunteered.
I asked, that given the sacrifices made in the Second World War has Britain turned out to a better place than he envisaged it to be back in 1946? To be honest he didn’t answer my question but said that there were a great many unhappy people in Britain today.
I asked if he’d know many Irish people who fought with the Allies but he deliberately misinterpreted my question and said he met many Irish every year at Cheltenham (racecourse).
As he spoke I sensed he was of the Burgess, McClean generation of spies. You know, the Smiley Bulger generation, from an era when espionage recruitment was class driven. If you were bright, qualified with a degree from Oxford or Cambridge and were a member of the right London private clubs you were in. Pre-war graduates had merely to be anti-fascists as the enemy was perceived to be Nazi Germany. This meant that Communist idealists were accepted and we all know where that led.
I asked about the Suez Canal incident when the Egyptian President Gamal Abdel Nasser announced the nationalization of the Suez Canal Company, the joint British-French enterprise which had owned and operated the Suez Canal since its construction in 1869. Israel then invaded followed by Britain and France and all withdrew after the superpowers got involved. My father was in the Merchant Navy and his ship was requisitioned to transport a battalion of Ghurkha soldiers up the canal. He volunteered nothing.
I asked what he thought of Winston Churchill, whose anniversary was today? He suddenly wrong-footed me with a question “Did you know that Winston Churchill had Colonel Sikorksi killed?” He fixed me with an unnerving steady gaze.
“No, no I didn’t” I answered blankly. I didn’t even know who Sikorski was! It was the wrong answer and within a minute he stopped talking, rose and made his exit. Wifey said immediately she suspected he thought he’d said too much and we were left to ponder why this murder was still secret and whispered about 70 years after the war had ended?
If I didn’t know who Sikorski was then I certainly do now.
During the Second World War, Sikorski became Prime Minister of the Polish Government in ExileCommander-in-Chief of the Polish Armed Forces, and a vigorous advocate of the Polish cause in the diplomatic sphere. He supported the reestablishment of diplomatic relations between Poland and the Soviet Union, which had been severed after the Soviet pact with Germany and the 1939 invasion of Poland — however, Soviet leader Joseph Stalin broke off Soviet-Polish diplomatic relations in April 1943 following Sikorski’s request that the International Red Cross investigate the Katyń Forest massacre. In July 1943, a plane carrying Sikorski plunged into the sea immediately after takeoff from Gibraltar, killing all on board except the pilot. The exact circumstances of Sikorski’s death have been disputed and have given rise to a number of conspiracy theories surrounding the crash and his death. Sikorski had been the most prestigious leader of the Polish exiles, and his death was a severe setback for the Polish cause.

Monday, 4 February 2019

The Zeitgeist Duo

The Zeitgeist Duo www.zeitgeistduo.de
At 3.15 pm we gathered for the girl’s third recital, a concert of meditative music. Each of their performances has gathered a larger audience than the one before. Today we number several hundred.
The violin is such an evocative and emotive instrument in the right hands and Angelika’s are definitely the right hands. The violin tells the story and the piano provides the backdrop, providing the platform vital for the pieces. Occasionally the piano dances with the violin taking alternate steps in the dance. What surprises is the ability of the violin to affect the listener in such a deep and personal way. Particularly penetrating are the final lingering high pitched dying notes of the pieces.
They play a beautiful piece by Ennio Morricone, one that I recognise immediately and I delight and marvel at the piece as it moves through its various stages. What a genius he is. It activates the tear ducts, my head overheats and my brain seems to bursting with the perfection of the performance.
On they play with a John Williams composition taken from the Hollywood movie “Schindlers List”. I wonder if they were aware of the content of the film, set in Nazi-occupied Germany during WWII where a brave German factory owner saves as many Jews as he can by employing them in his factory. It’s a bold choice of music, by two young German musicians, to play on a British cruise ship barely 70 years after the war. I have to confess I have yet to watch the movie myself as I’m not sure I am strong enough to sit through it.
Next came the wonderful “Clair de Lune” by Debussy. By now we are just an emotional mass of blubber, human jelly. We have been beaten into submission and are powerless to resist the tugs on our heartstrings. Its powerful stuff and there is no risk of falling asleep during this recital.
They are rightly loudly applauded at the end of their 45-minute performance.
Angelika Löw-Beer, violin and Marina Lieberman, piano formed the duo over ten years ago in Germany and are now based in London where the girls currently work on their debut CD with the UK’s #1 classical crossover producer John Haywood.( source is their website address given above)

Sunday, 3 February 2019

Adult Cruises aren't what you expect them to be

The term “Adult Only Cruises” meant nothing to me until I accidentally booked one with P&O Cruises in January 2015. If you thought that the title meant there would be no children on board the ship you would have been correct. If you thought “Adult Only” meant that the cruise would be a 14-day sex feast that would put the early days of the Roman Empire to shame you would have been wrong.
The “Adult Only cruise” based on my recent experience not only excludes children of all ages but also almost all adults under the age of 50. The few under ’50s that were on the Oriana spent the first few days in a daze, wandering about the ship like lost sheep on a mountainside. The heavy drinking, loud dance music and late night partying they probably envisaged on a cruise to the Canary Islands (Gran Canarias, Lanzerotti, Las Palmas, Tenerife…etc) was replaced on this ship with afternoon tea served on silver service, ballroom dancing in the Harlequin Lounge to the Oriana orchestra and games of bridge where silence is good manners. Now, this is not to say that P&O Cruises miss sold the cruise. It’s more a case of a) the cruise being booked by older folks for their children or b) the passenger simply booked the holiday after reading the headlines and didn’t look at the detail.
We met a mid-30’s Welsh builder, ripped torso, tattooed and sipping on a can of Newcastle Brown ale in the Lord Taverners, the ships bar at about 10.30pm one night. He, watching his language out of respect for Wifey, explained that his wife had already gone to bed, bored out of her tree. His one joy was the gym where he worked out most days, just to keep in shape given the physical nature of his job. He managed half an hour in our company and exited via the door out onto the deck with an excuse that he was off to bed. He forgot his full bottle of drinking water so I had to follow him out onto the exposed deck and into the force 7 gale which damn near ripped the door out of my hand. I fought the wind following his steps and watched as he opened another door further up the promenade deck and stepped back into the ship’s carpeted foyer. I followed seconds later to find him repositioned at another bar. I thrust the bottle into his hand and he looked a little shamefaced, bless him. I didn’t blame him at all.
The average age of passengers on this cruise would be at least 70. It is primarily a cruise for those already deep into their retirement years. It’s a rare thing at my stage in life to be considered a youngster in any environment but I was on this cruise. At 59 years of age, I was mixing with my elders. My parents would have been right at home on this cruise. In fact, I constantly felt that I was cheating to be on this cruise. I was doing something I should rightly only be permitted to do when I had reached the retirement age of 66, 67, 68 or for some 69. It was like having a preview of my future life if I was lucky enough to live long enough to enjoy it.