Cycling, my passion.

I once used to run marathons and compete in triathlons, training five hours a day over three sessions, swimming with the county team and cycling a lot. I did some long distance cycling events, some lasting for several days, then I reverted back to my collage days and joined the local rugby club. That was thirty odd years ago. I stopped playing and coaching rugby in 2000 and retired from serious fitness training. Wind forward twenty years and the pandemic arrived. As I live in the countryside we have many beautiful walks right on our doorstep so that's what we did, we walked gaining in fitness until I then decided to get on my bike. There was an old mountain bike in the garage so dusting it off, I went out and cycled to the nearest town (8 miles away), and it alost did for me! I found it difficult to hold back, cycle at a slower pace and enjoy the experience. I could remember my competitive days and 'slow' was not good enough, so I went out to buy a racing bike.

I couldn't resist this beautiful bike, a Giant TCR Once, used by the Once team in the Tour de France in the late 1990s. This bike was set up for an experienced cyclist and I found the gearing really hard to cope with on the hills, I definitely needed more or larger gears so I went out and bought a hybrid bike.

This one did exactly what I wanted, but up against other dedicated cyclists it looked a bit odd. Every serious cyclist rides a pure road bike. I train a lot on this bike and completed a charity 100 mile event in May two weeks after recovering from Covid.

Me at about 65 miles, 35 to go! I soon gave in and started to look for a road bike that I could ride on all the undulating terrain in the area where I live.

A Specialized Allez, just the job. It looks good and goes like a rocket. My average speed went up considerably.

Moments before the start of a 100km event in June.

On my various bikes last winter. (The Allez had not joined the stable at this time).

At the track with my son, another keen cyclist. Note the classic Raleigh Kelloggs Pro Tour racing bike circa 1980s, my original bike used to train and compete in all the events I did when I was young and fit!

The Witness

My psychological Thriller The Witness is my best selling novel.

It was first published in 2013 and continues to do well.  It is a popular choice at book fairs and signings and provokes interesting conversation.

The book cover

Have you ever experienced a day so terrifying that it changed your life forever?

The Witness, a psychological thriller guaranteed to excite you from the very first page.

 

Signing copies at the launch

Synopsis

 The Witness – Josie MacDonald, a landscape artist is visiting her aunt Molly who lives in the peaceful village of Garmouth near Spey Bay in Morayshire.  On a painting trip early one morning Josie was witness to an horrific murder.

 Mr. Mac, the deranged killer is aware that Josie has seen him at work but after a terrifying chase Josie manages to escape.  Mr Mac tracks her down to her home in London where his plan takes an unexpected turn.  Josie is forced to bear the brunt of psychological torture and anguish as one by one her friends are drawn into the nightmare.

 Josie has to return to the scene of crime in order to discover the truth.  The story reaches its climax when she unearths a serial killer who has been working in the highlands for nearly thirty years.  With time running out and a killer on the lose, Josie has to prevent her abducted friends from becoming victims whilst surviving long enough to bring their terrible ordeal to an end. 

 

The book continues to be popular with great reviews.

Pick up your copy today from Amazon or order from good bookshops.

From drawing to job complete

 My Grandson lives in a house with a terraced garden.  His play area is on a patio with a metre drop into thorny flower beds.  He fell into this recently and looked as if he had been mauled by a lion, so a fence was needed to prevent this from happening again.  First, the flowerbed was cleared, then I surveyed the site before drawing up the plans. 

A profile of the fence and wall including posts.

A plan view of the general layout.

Dimensions were added and the material chosen.  Not having worked in wood before, I was unfamiliar with the sections available, but after a bit of research I made my choices and the material was ordered.

Three 70mm X 40mm X 3 metre lengths for the posts and 70mm X 20mm X 2.4 metre lengths, four packs of five arrived, then the job began.

Marking out and sawing the sections to length

Laying the cut sections out before fixing

Putting the finishing touches to the gate

It was a very hot day and working on the lawn in the back garden was like working in a desert.

Fence in place

Gate looking good

Job complete

My son Jonathan helped to manufacture and fit.  We work well together, celebrated with ice lollies.

 

What are the chances?

 So, there I am six miles into a forty five mile cycle jaunt when along a narrow country path I catch my arm on a thistle and draw blood.  Moments later a wasp flies into the the vent of my cycling helmet and stings my head.  In the ensuing pandemonium the chain comes off and I cruise to a halt while struggling to release the wasp and avoid being stung again.

On a more positive note, some twenty miles later I stop for a refreshment break in a layby and promptly discover a pound coin laying on the ground.

Breaking my silence.

 So, not a lot has happened on my blog for months.  I've decided to have another go and post more regularly using this as a test to see just who is about and who actually reads my blog.

I'm busy at the moment writing my ninth novel, fifth in the crime series featuring DI Isobel Woods.  Woods first appeared in The Cellist, published in 2017, when she was a Detective Sergeant working with DI Terry Ashton.  Her character has developed since then and she had a greater part to play in The Photographer, published in 2020.

Both of these books are available from Amazon as a kindle download or in paperback format.

They can also be ordered through bookshops such as Waterstones.

Two more books are ready to go to the publisher, but I'm using these to help me find a larger publisher and/or attract a literary agent.

Anyway, enough of my news.  If this is successful and attracts some attention then I will write more updates about my work and other things.

Happy reading!

Prologue or Chapter One?

            The village was in darkness, just a string of pearl like roadside lamps leading the way through a single narrow street.  Slowing the car to the speed limit the road ahead was dark and wet from an earlier shower.  In the hills above the village, he had driven through a deluge that flooded the road but here the weather had been kinder. 

            Daniel had spent a few nights staying at a hilltop hotel, which offered breathtaking views across the Derbyshire countryside.  A favourite haunt for artists, they seemed to fill the place leaving just a few rooms for Daniel and his business colleagues.  The hotel itself was pleasant enough but Daniel was not happy about the treatment he and the other guests had received.  The staff although very young lacked what he would have expected from a luxury hotel.  Senior staff members were not much better, in fact he had witnessed one of the receptionists being very rude to one of the elderly artists and Daniel himself had suffered curt comments from a manager.  It was then that he decided that once home he would make a complaint to the head office of the chain who owned the hotel.  He was not supposed to check out until the following morning but he was missing Clara and wanted to return home as soon as possible so he made the decision to drive through the night.   

            Following the gentle curve in the road, he pushed the gear stick forward slowing the car even more.  His sat nav told him that once on the motorway the journey time would be just under four hours.  He doubted that, closer to five he thought, but at least at this time of night there was less traffic to contend with.

            As he approached the last house in the village, his eyes flicked to the darkened space to his left.  This was a water meadow and open fields.  Here a river ran through the valley, he imagined the view on a summer’s day.  Suddenly movement caught his eye and before he had time to react, a car shot out of a small side turning in front of him.  It bounced across a narrow pathway completely out of control before disappearing into the darkness.  Braking hard, Daniel brought his car to a stop and threw open the driver’s side door.  Climbing out he stood in the road hardly able to believe what had just happened, then running to the spot where the car had left the road, he peered into the darkness.  He could see very little but there was a vague shape against the denseness of the shadows.  Moving forward he soon discovered the car resting on its roof.  The headlights were out so searching his pocket he found his mobile phone and turning on the torch directed the beam into the car.  Air bags had deployed but were now deflated, the limp material filling the space where the driver should have been.

            “Hello,” he called out and reaching for the handle pulled open the door.

            It was a small sports car, just two seats but luckily, it had a hard top.  A soft top car would have collapsed completely crushing the driver.  Leaning in he found the driver squashed into the foot well.

            “Are you hurt?” leaning in further he reached out.

            Strands of dark hair covered the face that peered back at him and playing the light over the interior, he realised that he was looking at a woman.  She groaned.

            “We need to get you out,” he said shuffling further into the car.

            Grasping her by the hand she responded by wriggling out from the cramped space.

            “Can you stand?”

            “Yes I think so, help me please.”  Holding onto him, she pulled herself from the wreckage.

Daniel supported her gently and she groaned again as she collapsed against him.  He could feel her heart racing, her body trembling then he caught the aroma of expensive perfume.  They stood like this for several moments before he suggested they move.  Lights from his car were a welcome beacon in the darkness of the street.  The last roadside lamp was a hundred yards away, its beam failing to reach them.

            “You are hurt,” Daniel said as he helped her into the passenger seat.  “I should call for an ambulance.”

            “No please.”  Alarm filled her face.

            “At least let me take you to the nearest hospital.”

            “There is no need, please do not concern yourself, it’s only my pride that is injured.”

            He doubted that, but doing as she asked he climbed into the driver’s seat.

            “My name is Daniel.”

            “I’m Sophia,” she replied and laying her head back against the rest closed her eyes.

            “Where would you like me to take you?  We should call someone to take care of your car.”

            “No please, tell no one.  Will you take me with you?”

            Looking at her, he frowned.  “Surely someone will be worried about you.”

            “There is no one.”  Pain masked her face but she hid it well then she opened her eyes.  “Will you take me with you?  I will explain everything later.”

            “Is there anything that you would like me to fetch from your car?”

            “No, I have everything that I need.”

            Daniel hesitated uncertain about what to do next.  What would the consequences be if he did as she asked?  Clearly, he had to do something, he could hardly throw her out into the night.  He told her where he was going and she simply nodded her head then closing her eyes again, she sighed.

            Daniel drove slowly away leaving an overturned sports car in a field on the edge of a village somewhere in Derbyshire.  

I woke up the other morning with this running through my head so I wrote it down.  It could be the beginning of a new thriller so perhaps I should develop it a bit further see where it goes, but first something for you to think about.

1. Who is Sophie?

2. Who/what is she running away from?

3. Has Daniel done the right thing or should he take her to a hospital or police station?

4. What would you do in the same circumstances?

I'm considering the same questions so this might just turn into a full blown novel.

             

 

Fly a Spitfire simulator

Spitfire Simulator

The Spitfire simulator at Manston Museum in Kent is a fantastic way to experience life in the cockpit of this iconic aircraft.

I arrived for my pre-flight briefing and became familiar with the controls before starting the Merlin engine and trundling off along the runway.

I took off from Biggin Hill and flew out over London heading for the Shard which soon appeared on the horizon.  Climbing to 2000 feet I made a right turn around the Shard heading for the Serpentine and passing over Buckingham Palace then out over the estuary where I did a couple of 'Victory rolls'.  Climbing to 10,000 feet I did a couple of loops experiencing the effects of stall as the airspeed over the wings struggled to keep the aircraft aloft.  It was all so realistic with the graphics through the screen perfectly clear.  Swooping down through wispy cloud over the Isle of Grain I was supposed to fly beneath the QEII bridge but I had too much height so missed the opportunity.  Heading along the coast towards Whitstable and Herne Bay I made a sharp right turn before lining up on Manston airport where I made a bumpy landing.

The flight lasted for a good half hour leaving me breathless and wanting more.

A few hours in this machine and I feel certain I could fly it solo without the guidance of my brilliant instructor.

This experience is a must for budding Spitfire pilots and those simply interested in flying.