Car boot … mmm

I got an advert on Instagram this morning. It was from the European Parliament. It showed a small boy sat at the back of the parliament holding an EU flag. The post was clearly marked; paid for by the European Parliament. The post had had a couple of thousand likes and there were 250 comments. I did some research.

Nearly all of the comments were pro-Brexit and, most of them, were sharp … nasty. I did some further research and clicked on the profiles of a few of the pro-Brexit commentators. Where their profiles were open, those I chose showed older men. Their timeline was at best ‘blokey’; at worst misogynist and borderline fascist. One had one of those cartoon written jokes: ‘I went into the pub with a gun looking for my wife who was having an affair. A friend at the back said I hadn’t brought enough ammunition.’ #hilarious.

Among others.

Now I know that most folk who voted for Brexit would be horrified by such people. But, for those of you Brexiteers that still read my drivel, you do have to admit that the pro-Brexit movement does attract that sort. And whilst I am a European, I can also see why some people would vote to leave the EU, although I firmly believe the benefits of staying far outweigh those of leaving. But I am prepared to have that discussion. Without resorting to violence.

Along the same lines. I know that I’ve told you before that we live in a multi-cultural cul-de-sac: I reckon 65/35 Brit to non-Brit inhabitants. And we love it here. This morning I walked the 400 metres to our local car boot sale. It was full of Eastern Europeans and a number of other non-Brits. They were all going about their business. No angst. No tension. Yesterday C and I were in Gloucester seeing Jen. As I backed out of a parking space a very English, Englishman swore and gesticulated at me from his car … apparently I hadn’t made room for him to manoeuvre.


nobody punched anybody

Anger v Peace.

Last night I watched a programme about Dover on C4 during the war. It wasn’t great telly, but it kept my interest. The programme spent a bit of time looking at Dunkirk … and we were shown lots of piccies of gritty Brit soldiers (and Poles and French who were fighting alongside us) with smiles amongst the grimaces. I know I can’t say, but I sense that in 1940 our boys were not the sort to get enraged over a frivolous incident in a carpark. Or dis their women. Or have a go at a fellow Pole who was fighting alongside them (or indeed the 87,000 Indians who died for our freedom).

What has changed? Dunno.

I should stop. All I will say is that I cannot see myself staying in the UK if a right-wing, anti-immigration, anti-European party gets into government (I’m ignoring the current Tories … although should Boris get into power). I’m having enough trouble coping with my fellow Brit on the roads …

Good news! I have finished the final edit of On The Back Foot To Hell, have started printing it out for proofreading and have had an initial stab at the front cover. It all looks like this:

On The Back Foot To Hell (1)

A new, undefined terror is spreading across the globe. Indiscriminate, low-level acts of violence have hit all five continents – and it’s getting worse. The world’s security services are at a loss. Who is behind the upsurge in violence? Where will the next attack take place? Will it ever stop?

Sam Green, now a supermarket till girl in a small town in England, is oblivious to world events. She has her own inner demons to fight and they’re consuming every spare moment. All too soon though, these demons will take on human form. And then she will be faced with two choices: run or fight.

In Naples, Italy, a young Welsh student is innocently researching a link between The Mafia and the history of art. And two thousand miles away in Moscow, Russian intelligence services are struggling to contain a new terror cell that threatens nuclear catastrophe.

Are all these things connected? If so, can someone force order from chaos? Sam has managed before. But now there are too many obstacles, the biggest of which are those plaguing her own mind.

This time the world might just have to rely on someone else.

In praise of the Sam Green series:

This really is an addictive series of stories; Sam Green a believable and somewhat vulnerable hero who finds herself drawn in to some enthralling adventures with each subsequent book linking cleverly to the previous, yet still being ‘stand alone’. Roland seems to have the ability to guide the reader around a spider’s web of plots culminating in an extraordinarily exciting finale. Can’t wait for book 5.


We’re at home this week, with some adminy things to sort. And then a weekend in London visiting a cousin of C’s. It’s all good here …