Define pleasure.

It is funny how one book can sell very well but others do little. Why is it that medical stories attract more interest than gardening? I mean most people have a garden and can relate the odd humorous anecdote about events that happened to them while in their rolling landscaped garden or back yard. I had considered this a topic worth covering but now I’m not so sure. While A Fly on the Ward sold well, so far, A Fly on the Garden Wall is no where near being as successful. Why I wonder, is it because deep down we like to laugh at the misfortunes of others and hospital stories meet this criterion?  Could it be that many people have not endured the care of the medical profession and so wish to discover more about a world they have no knowledge of?

Perhaps the subject of gardening is too boring for today’s hyper electronic inhabitants, possibly the hobby or chore of tending one’s garden is not as widely appreciated as the television gardening experts would have us believe?

I admit I no longer find much joy in spending hours rooting around in the earth and removing weeds, or cutting that damn lawn yet again, or being attacked by a rampant rose bush. However I really cannot say I like being incarcerated in a medical meat factory either and would hope I never have to experience the dubious joys of the National Health Service ever again. Given the choice I would avoid both subjects and choose something more pleasurable, and so I have.

My next book which is at present under construction, strain and a pile of waste paper, will be entitled, A Fly on Deck. This time the subject matter will concern the art of sailing, and boating, possibly sinking but certainly all things nautical. Most people envisage a beautiful sunny day, calm seas and a splendid white yacht shining against the golden sands of a small Pacific Island. So surely this will be a happier and more favourable subject than hospital or gardening? One would think so, wouldn’t one?

We’ll see . . . .  watch this space.

A difficult story

My third book entitled A Fly on the Garden Wall has now been published and so far it has been met with a wall of disinterest. Oh well, one can’t win ‘em all. My first book, A Fly on the Ward is still selling very well, not quite Fifty Shades of Gray selling, but still selling in good numbers.

Happily the forth and fifth books are progressing, if some what slowly due to interruptions from family and health.

The next in the A Fly on the . . . series will be called (I think), A Fly on the Boat. Obviously this book will regal you with humorous stories of my nautical misadventures and the odd soaking. It will follow the style of A Fly on the Ward and A Fly on the Garden Wall, stories to make you smile.

But, the fifth book is being a right pain in the arse!  I am trying to write a novel. That idea itself is novel to me but I thought I would have a go. The problem arises in what I have planned. I hope to write a science fiction story with science fantasy added. This is proving difficult as I have to make sure my science knowledge is actually correct and up to date. 

When writing fantasy one can make up anything and explain it as ‘magic’, however when one is writing science fiction, known rules and facts need to be adhered to. One cannot change the laws of physics simply to achieve a good storyline, nor can one mess around with chemistry or biology. So this is going to be a difficult task and may never reach completion, but we’ll see . . .

Watch this space as they say.

All my books are available from Amazon in digital or paperback.

 

Anyway, my angioplasty (stent) went well, sort of. The plumber who undertook the procedure could have been a tad more gentle but he explained the block in my front artery took some bashing to get through. That's his excuse anyway. 

The trouble started once I returned home. I had received no information, guidance or instruction from the cardiac unit where I was restrained, the only words I kept hearing was 'exercise' so I assumed that was what I should do. Oops!  I began to exercise the day after my stent but will admit it felt wrong and I soon felt strange each time I tried. But I thought I would persist and attempted some form of exercise the weekend. Yesterday (Monday) I had to visit my delicious GP to update her on the events and seek prescriptions. I also intended to ask for information on what I was expected to do and what was due to happen following this form of procedure, she is always helpful.

The doctors surgery is about 2 miles away and nearly all of the journey is down hill, like I mentioned before I live quite high above sea level, so I decided to walk . . . .  

What a wally!  Within 50 yards I was breathless and my heart was hammering at my ribs. I rested for a few moments before continuing and I found the going easier after a while. I guess I had walked half mile before my mobile (cell) phone rang, the surprise of that almost gave me a heart attack! I answered the phone and lo and behold, it was the local cardiac nurse checking up on me. I didn't even know there was such a beastie!  Well obviously she immediately wanted to know why I was sounding so breathless on the phone and why wasn't I at home when she rang there first?

I'm walking to the doctor's I said. How far is that she asked. I told her which surgery I was heading for and where I was at that moment. Then I had to remove the phone from my ear as she proceeded to berate me for my stupidity in no uncertain terms! When I could get a word in, I explained I thought I had to exercise and that a gentle walk would be ideal. Again I was forced to remove the phone from my ear as she described in her own terms what a plonker I was and that any exercise should be GENTLE! Not a bleddy 2 mile walk!

The nurse demanded I stop where I was and describe how I felt at that moment, not good because I felt terrible. My breathing was a struggle and my heart appeared to be attempting to escape the chest of a lunatic.

I was stuck, no buses in site, no taxi's available and I was now about half way into my journey. I couldn't walk home and I couldn't carry on to the doc. I decided to try and get a lift from a passing car . . . or four. No one stopped and all looked at me as though I was insane or a terrorist, humans are not in general, inclined to assist a fellow in distress and no one wanted to help me. Finally a car slowed enough for me to step in front of it and force it to stop. The driver angrily open his window and prepared to shout, then he heard my breathing and relented. I explained I only needed a lift to the surgery because I could not make it and he readily agreed. Once in the car he turned to me and simply said, "COPD?"  I was too breathless to answer so I just nodded. He then informed me his wife had copd so understood when he heard my rattling lungs. I arrived at the surgery alive, almost.

Finally, guess what my delicious doc said . . . ?  Yep, pretty much the same as the cardiac nurse! Least she is a pleasure to look at, even when she's giving me a stern telling off. She also informed me that I was a very, very lucky man, in fact she agreed with my consultant that I was a 'heart attack waiting to happen!'  Anyway I finally got the info I sought, gentle exercise in the form of pottering about the house was allowed, long walks, the exercise bike and the Wii were definitely out of the question. No carrying, lifting, mountaineering or wine, women and song until I had visited the cardiac nurse one next week.

I took a taxi home . . . .  to face even further, and much louder, telling off when my wife got home form work. Ahh well, we live and learn, some of us just take a little longer . . . . .

The illusive publisher

OK, so both my books have been on sale for a while now, A Fly on the Ward became available in May 2012 and Humanology was published in August 2012.  I am busy on my third book which will be entitled, A Fly on the Garden Wall.

So now I have a couple of published books under my belt, should I try for a literary agent or publishing company this time?  So far I have only published on Amazon.  I admit I would love to see some of my work shining alluringly upon the shelves of bookshops, it’s not quite the same downing to Kindle or other electronic devices. The trouble is, how does one get a publisher?  I am not a famous footballer, nor am I a popular singer or TV personality and I am certainly not an infamous politician! So how do I get on those bookshelves? Honestly I haven’t a clue. Maybe I will start pleading, begging and beseeching some of the more honest and better known publishers via the good old internet. Actually that’s about the only way one can contact others these days. The art of letter writing and even the initial phone conversation are in rapid decline.

It’s not that I want to be rich and famous exactly; I just wish to be recognised for my work, identified as an author and get paid for being an author. Will that ever happen?  Some how I doubt it but I will endeavour to seek out the enlightenment of the illusive publisher as I continue to write.

Non-urgent emergency

OK, so yesterday I had to rush my daughter to the maternity unit of our local hospital as what the midwife described as `A non-urgent emergency’ . . . Weird but true!


Finally arriving at the said marvel of modern medicine and Child Production Agency, Mother Nature was by now making her own urgent calls upon my body. I jigged frantically in front of the parking pay meter while hunting for the change I knew I had but could not find, finally managing to feed the evil cash monster the required sustenance that allowed my vehicle to rest in the space provided, I then rushed into the maternity building seeking relief.

Up and down corridors I searched, in and out of wards, up and down stairs and even behind the half empty drinks and snack machines I peered, but alas it was all in vain. Desperately I sought the assistance of a stern looking nurse on her way to terrorise yet another newborn, but the reply I received shocked me to my core. I was curtly informed there were NO male toilets in the maternity block!

Well! I almost relieved myself in shock! So what was a poor simple man supposed to do? I realise a maternity unit is for the purpose of infant arrivals and the female of our species was the priority of that unit, but what about the males unfortunately present? I understand that most women at this stage of the reproduction cycle wish all men castrated or shot, which ever makes less mess, but males are involved as well. Not all involved are in the position of a potential new father, some males are those other members of the male species that help and support these women in their hour of giving birth. What about males such as husbands, partners, boyfriends or one night stands? And should not consideration be given to the members of the expectant mother’s family? Such as fathers, brothers, grandfathers, uncle or even son’s? What hellish mind contrived to remove all forms of male bladder relief from the building?

Still jiggling frantically I saw my daughter onto the appropriate ward before dashing out to seek a toiletry refuge. At last my prayers, incantations and other assorted words of choice were answered, a hundred yards away stood the main hospital building and I knew there I would find sanctuary and escape from my most pressing problem. Screaming past fellow visitors, patients, nursing staff and the odd lost doctor, I ran straight for the men’s room resembling a tortured banshee seeking to escape a rabid banker!

When at last the deed was done, I returned to my bemused daughter as she awaited to attentions of a doctor, which she duly received some four and a half hours later! Good job it was only a non-urgent emergency!  However it did turn out to be an emergency for me!

Days off

Ok so I have survived three days now without writing a word, well not in relation to books I mean. I have my next book planned but I have decided to take a sabbatical from writing while I await the British summer. Could be a long wait!


Having published two books via Amazon, I am now pondering the prospect of seeking a publishing agent or publisher. I have no idea if this is possible or even probable as most publishers today appear only to gratify the needs of footballers, pop stars or disgraced politicians. However I will strive to climb that mountain and if I reach the summit then maybe I will have my first book in print on the bookshelves of Britain.

Having a few days off has allowed me to rejoin those pass times I have missed, and some that I most defiantly have not missed! I played my son’s guitar because he is away, then I played mine. It appears to have been some time since I played because I was awful! More practice I think.

I have bailed the ocean out of my little boat and the sat serenely upon its gently rocking bow and surveyed the tranquil river before me. I have even played football with my grandson, his rules though, not real football. He kicks the ball, I run after the ball! But it was still very enjoyable. Then we all went hunting for blackberries, the family desired a blackberry and apple pie. Unfortunately the dozen or so berries we found did not justify a pie, so my grandson ate them.

Today with the sun shining brightly down from the heavens, I was informed I had decided to help in the garden. I cannot remember making this decision but who am I to argue against superior forces, so I helped with the gardening. I am now suffering the rewards of cuts, scratches, stings and bruises and I have been given notice that tomorrow will be much the same. Maybe it’s time I began work on the next book!

My latest book: Humanology

Humanology.


Hi Folks. Well my second book is finished and I am about to send it off to Amazon and Creatspace. It’s a strange book I will admit. Entitled Humanology, it is a compilation of observations made on the behaviour, antics and habits of the modern human. Possibly along the lines of sociology, psychology and maybe even philosophy but certainly not too deep and with some humour to help the reader stay awake, hopefully!

In this book I have tried to analyse the things we see all around us in our everyday existence, from the changes we have witnessed over the course of our years to the onslaught of binge drinking, mind numbing television programmes and the availability of every food stuff known to man.
The different ways in which we deal or fail to deal with modern living is discussed but only superficially, I don’t want to become known as a cure for insomnia instead of an author!
This book has been rattling around in my head for years so I thought I had better get it down on paper, or rather onto my computer before the ideas and thoughts burst from my ears in a stream of incoherent rubbish!
Finally before you begin shouting profanities at your PC screen, I know there is no such word as Humanology. But what better way to describe man’s modern foibles and traits that often leaves other astounded or horrified? The book does not exactly cover one discipline so cannot be placed entirely under a title of sociology or psychology. Perhaps it should have been called; The Ramblings of a befuddled and confused mind! The title of Humanology was constructed as the best possible label for the mixture of subjects and conclusions, assumptions and observations on that very strange animal, the Human Being! However, in order for one to form a judgment on the essence of this book, one first has to read it!

My first book entitled: A Fly on the Ward, is doing quite well. If you haven’t already done so, check it out on Amazon. It is very difficult to promote when one has self published a book, literary agents and publishers are only concerned with footballers, pop stars and naughty politicians, the rest of us have no chance! So please have pity on a struggling virgin author and purchase this funny book of medical pandemonium.

Apart from writing, I have been fighting the odd battle with health, not that I’m unwell but I object to the amount of pills, potions, strange brews and other assorted concoctions the medics continually attempt to ram down my throat!
So I am reducing as many of the marvellous modern medicinal methods of medical mayhem produced by the medical profession for the amusement of us all. I’m not sure if I am helping or harming myself, but I think I’ll find out soon enough!