Wednesday, 3 December 2014

Nativity plays

Can somebody tell me how it is possible to have a nativity play in a school without baby Jesus. The whole point of Christmas is celebrating the coming of our Lord. The nativity play tells this wonderful story. It is a wonderful story on its own which children and adults relate to.

Friday, 14 November 2014

Running After Maria

I think you might like my  Tragic Romance Novel : 

Running after Maria

Published as an ebook for downloading at:, for Kindle at Amazon and as a paperback through or Amazon

James Ashleigh lives the perfect life.  He is happy. He was doing what he loved. Sailing the oceans but having plenty of opportunities to take part in the ritual of the chase, as Bill his friend called the pursuit of women. He has plenty of money, he was meeting of women and there was  plenty of drink. Life is carefree because he is not tied to one place or one person. 
Then he meets Maria in Finland and life changes. This novel charts the progress of those changes and the twisting path of James' life. He looked forward to arriving in Helsinki and love making like he had never know before.  For reasons which James did not fully understand, Maria did not want to marry
This is the story of one man’s descent into depression after tragedy strikes, his anger at other people trying to help and his redemption in the arms of somebody who admired the dedication of other people who try to help. It explores the question of whether a person can really be saved after a devastating loss especially of somebody that person loves deeply? Does not their world and the will to live end?

If you like it tell all your friends about it.

Eddie Gubbins

Tuesday, 16 September 2014

EddieGubbins: Arrogant car drivers

EddieGubbins: Arrogant car drivers: Car drivers have no consideration for other people. They park on pavements so that old people on scooters and mothers with ...

Arrogant car drivers

Car drivers have no consideration for other people. They park on pavements so that old people on scooters and mothers with pushchairs have to risk injury by going into the road. If there is a queue in towns invariably it is a driver parking on double yellow lines to pop into the bank or a take away. They complain about the cost of parking but can spend time using up petrol to find a free space. They speed in restricted areas, blow their horns impatiently if some other driver is felt to hold them up and angrily gesticulate at cyclists. In towns where the council has designed grass verges into the area, they park on the grass and churn this into mud. When anybody starts to apply the law all they can do is protest.
Here is a short story I have written pointing out the dangers of motorists getting to insular in their belief that they are always in the right.



Eddie Gubbins

They are pervasive! They are everywhere! They flash! They make money for the government! They are not fair! Nobody likes them! They are an intrusion into everybody’s life! They are an echo of  Big Brother from “ Nineteen Eighty four!” They should not be allowed to get away with this!
So thought John as he changed into his black sweater and black trousers. As he pulled on his black jacket, his heart raced at the thought that he was going to stand up to this menace. By his actions this night, he and his friends would take one small step in ridding the world of these things. He did not have words to describe how he felt about their existence, creeping silently without notice along many streets on the edges of towns and cities. They must be eliminated and not allowed to proliferate like some alien species breeding their way to taking over the land.
Before leaving his house to join his friends, John crept into the bedroom where his daughter Lisa lay sleeping. He gently lifted the duvet and made sure she was comfortable. Lovingly, he looked down at her young, innocent face framed by that shock of blonde curls. He bent down and kissed her forehead. At the door, he turned and took one last look at her face framed in the small night light she always insisted on having beside her bed. She was smiling in her sleep, looking for all the world to John like a little angel in a stain glass window.
Carol, his wife, was sitting by the fire watching the late film on television and drinking her bed time drink when he looked into the sitting room.
She looked up, smiled. “ I will be in bed when you get back. You will be careful won’t you John?”
John kissed her cheek and smiled in return. “ I am always careful when on a mission. See you later when I get back.”
John had to admit to himself that Carol knew what he was up to on those nights he left the house late. She never objected, never tried to stop him going out, merely told him, as she did this night, to be careful. Whenever he thought about it, John was never certain whether she approved of what he was doing or not. Deep down he understood that she let him get on with his campaign, avoiding any argument which might upset the domestic harmony and in doing so, effect Lisa. Before leaving his house, John picked up the package he had prepared earlier in the evening, checked the contents and stuffed them into his shoulder bag.
Outside the house, it was dim under the widely spaced street lights lining the road where he lived.  As he came out of his drive, the lights of a car parked further down the road from his house came on. Seeing this, John walked quickly to the car. As he approached, the car door opened and he got into the back, depositing his package onto the back seat. There were two men in the car, both like John wearing dark clothes.
“ A good night for it,” George remarked from the driving seat. “ Terry has the hoods.”
Terry grinned, his teeth white in the dim light. John took the black balaclava from Terry and placed it on the seat next to his bag. Once John was comfortable, George drove off towards the outskirts of the town. Near a cemetery and a park, George found a quiet parking spot, parked the car and sat watching the road. All was quiet. With a grin at the others, he pulled his black balaclava over his head, nodded to Terry and John and got out of the car. Terry and John followed, Terry carrying a folded light ladder, John a shoulder bag.
With George leading, they walked towards the main road, keeping close to the hedge which surrounded the cemetery. As they approached the main road, George held up his hand as a signal for Terry and John to stop. Looking up and down the road, George made certain that nothing was in sight. He shrank further into the shadows when a car came over the brow of the hill to his right and round the sharp bend in the road a hundred yards from where they stood. The car slowed quickly as it came towards the cemetery and passed the yellow box on top of a post near the edge of the road. There was no flash as the car sped away, before slowing at the traffic lights near the junction further down the road to their left.
Once all was quiet, George waved and the three men moved out of the shadows of the hedge and ran across the open space to the post. Terry assembled the ladder while George stood watch. John placed the bag on the pavement and arranged some cans and wires on the tarmac. Giving half of these to Terry, John climbed the ladder. Hurriedly, he placed the wires around the yellow box and attached the cans to the lenses and the cover for the camera film. When this was done, he reached down, took the rest of the stuff from Terry and attached this to the back of the camera. Sliding down the ladder, John lit the fuse as Terry folded the ladder away. George signalled for them to run and they quickly rushed into the shadow of the hedge by the cemetery. There was a wosh and suddenly flames engulfed the yellow box.
At this, George turned away and hurriedly led them back to the car. As they approached the car, they peeled off their balaclavas and slowed to a walk as though they were three men returning from the pub. By the time they were back in the car, the glow had faded.
They laughed and applauded once back in the car, patting each other on the back. Still laughing, George started the car and drove back towards the main road. When they passed the camera, it was blackened and drooping and obviously not working. They could not help letting out another shout of joy.
“ One less for the money grabbing government to make money out of,” Terry giggled as they sped back to their homes. “ They should trust us motorists to drive safely without all this nineteen eighty four stuff. I know when I am driving too fast and always slow down.”
“ See you in the Royal Oak on Friday, John,” George said as John got out of the car. “ We can talk about which one will be next.”
“ See you Friday,” John replied as he shouldered his bag, waved to Terry and walked the few yards to his house.
All was quiet in the house, the windows dark. In the hall Carol had, as usual, left the light burning. John took off his coat and hung it on it’s peg in the hall before going through to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee and stow away his bag. He sat for a while thinking about their campaign and how successful they had been so far. Though they had never tested his theory, he was convinced that most people supported what he, Terry and George were doing. Sighing, he rinsed his cup, placed it upside down on the draining board and went up the stairs.
He looked in at Lisa. She lay on her back, her eyes tight shut, her blonde curls framing her face and a beautiful smile on her lips. Crossing the floor silently, John kissed her forehead and closed the door gently as he left her bedroom. Carol was asleep, curled up under the duvet one hand under her cheek, her face looking so peaceful in the light from the landing. John took off his clothes, slid into the bed by her side and kissed her gently on the forehead.
The sun was shining on the park making the grass appear more green than normal. The flowers in the flower beds gave a flash of colour and the ducks on the pond looked up in anticipation every time anybody walked by.
The little girl skipped along the path, her blonde curls bouncing on her head and a smile on her face. “ Look Mummy,” she called in an excited voice. “ The ducks want some bread. Did we bring any?”
The woman walking by her side smiled and reached into her bag. “ Here. I didn’t forget. Now you be careful of the water.”
The little girl with the blonde curls and washed out jeans, trotted across the grass to the pond. The ducks, as though they had been waiting for this moment all afternoon, came squawking and pushing across the pond to where the girl was standing. With an excited giggle, the girl slowly broke the slice of bread into pieces and threw them into the water. Her squeals of laughter were almost drowned out by the squawking of the ducks as they fought over the scraps of bread.
“ Come along,” the woman said taking her daughter’s hand. “ We have to get home to cook your daddy’s dinner.”
The girl smiled her angelic smile and skipped along beside her mother. They left the park and turned onto the main road by the cemetery. Getting to a place along the road where there was a traffic island in the centre, they paused to let the girl look right and left and right again just as her mother had taught her. There was nothing in sight. The girl looked curiously at the blackened yellow box drooping on its pole like some tree which had been struck by lightening. She did not say anything to her mother. They started across the road, then there was a roar as a car came up over the brow of the hill turning sharply right passed the camera. There was a squeal of tyres, the car bucked and rocked and then a sickening bang as the car smashed into the little girl and her mother. They did not have a chance. The car was travelling too fast in the knowledge gained from the email grapevine that the camera was inoperable. After hitting the girl and her mother, the car skidded uncontrolled and smashed into a wall by the cemetery. Silence descended, broken only by the blaring sound of the car horn. People came running, cars stopped and the smashed car was soon surrounded by helpers.
John followed the policeman down the long, dimly lit, concrete corridor. Their shadows stalked along the wall at their sides like ghosts accompanying Macbeth as he went to meet the witches. Their footsteps echoed off into dark side passages. John felt numb. He had felt numb inside ever since he had been called into the human resources director’s office that afternoon. A policeman had been standing there by the desk and as gently as possible had told him what had happened.
At the end of the corridor, the policeman pushed open a door, asking John to wait. John stood by the door hardly hearing the rumble of voices from inside the room. After a while, the door opened and the policeman waved him inside. The room they entered was white tiled with a row of what looked like over big filing cabinets to one side. In the centre were two metal tables with white cloth covered shapes laying a on top.
A man in a white boiler suit smiled faintly at John and motioned him over to one of the tables. Taking hold of the white cloth, he gently drew it back. The blonde curls were now revealed framing a bruised face. The blue eyes were closed. John nodded trying desperately not to sob out loud. The man in the white boiler suit replaced the white sheet. Walking to the other table he lifted the white cloth. Carol lay her face bruised and puffy. John nodded and turned away.
The policeman held open the door to the room and led the way back down the corridor, the footsteps once more tapping their echoes down dimly lit side passages leading to the depth of the hospital. Their shadows accompanied them like the ghosts of John’s past come to heckle him.
“ If those idiots had not damaged that speed camera, the car might have been going slower and might have been able to stop.” The words of the policeman dropped into the lengthening silence of their passage along the corridor.

The novel An Ordinary Life by Edmund Gubbins is concerned with the way in which a great many people justify the things they do even when to others they are patently wrong. It is available for downloading as an ebook from Amazon of as a paperback.

Saturday, 6 September 2014

A Legacy from Mary a Thriller by Eddie Gubbins

My thriller A Legacy from Mary is available from Amazon as a paperback and for downloading as an ebook on Kindle. It is also available from Smashwords for downloading to all e-readers.
This a novel about loyalty to friends and family even though that loyalty takes one out of familiar  situations and into the unknown. 
Ken Flood was an academic and events in the wider world did not effect his life. Then his friends Joshua and Mary were killed. The only connection was a country called Mengambi, Joshua was a Mengambian and Maria untook short courses in the country. Suddenly Ken was caught up in the game of power excersised in Mengambi when he agreed to take Mary’s place teaching on the short courses in Mengambi. What he wanted to find out was if there was more to his friends deaths than reported. Can he survive the pressure from his employer in Mengambi and the request by his brother to gather information?

Tuesday, 10 June 2014

Galway Bay

I wrote this poem after a visit to Ireland.

Galway Bay

We sing
Watch the sun go down on Galway Bay
But the rain poured down
The clouds raced across the sky
Waves beat on the shore.
A Rainbow arches over the water
We race to find the end
But the rain poured down. 
Never reached the end of the rainbow
Or found the crock ,of gold
And the rain poured down
Huddled in the car
Watching the fishing boats
Red Blue green
Appear out of the grey mist
Fighting the white foam
To return to harbour
And the rain poured down.
We never saw the sun
Go down on Galway bay.

An Ordinary Life

An Ordinary Life by Edmund J Gubbins
Money laundering is illegal. Even Tom Houseman knows that. He, as an academic, makes a distinction between helping somebody to set up legitimate business and the source of the money.
The novel follows the life of Tom Houseman. From his early childhood on the edge of a hard council estate to eminent Professor with a worldwide reputation and great wealth. The story explores the manner in which most people regard themselves as honest and law abiding although there are times and circumstances when they ignore the rules of behaviour or of some moral code. These people justify their actions by ignoring their conscience or making excuses for their behaviour. In extreme cases they give the impression that morality is not an issue in their case.
Tom Houseman has a boyhood friend called Derek from the council estate and, though their paths diverge after junior school, he stays loyal to his friend. Derek becomes the right hand man of the criminal Mr. Big and introduces Edward. During his life, Edward accepts opportunities presented by his friends and his brother. These enhance both his standing in society and his wealth. All the time, he ignores and denies the moral and legal implications of taking advantage of these offers. As time passes, he has to accept the implications of his choices.
Will he finally have to face these hard decisions or will he sail serenely on living, to him, this ordinary life?
This can be purchased for downloading at, and 
As a paperback from Amazon.

Tuesday, 3 June 2014

Tales from the Sea

Tales of the Sea is a semi-autobiographical novel based on my life at sea between 1957 and 1969.
In its pages the reader will meet the characters with whom I sailed and their antics. They will experience nights ashore and visit through my eyes exotic places. Read about the different ships, old and new as they plough across the oceans carrying the products of the world Throughout there is the sea and its dangers. The sea can be angry or benevolent.

The essence of the novel can be summed up in a poem:

The Call

The sea is calling, always calling
Even when the sailor has long left voyaging behind.
The sea calls, ever calls,
Over the noise of this sometimes dreadful life.
To sail away , to leave this life behind,
But to where?
That is what adds to the thrill.
Let the voyage be long or short,
Let the oceans be calm or fierce,
In the urge to sail away,
Lies man's eternal quest
For something new.
Why oh why does man always strive after the new
When accepting the present would save a lot of heart ache.
It has long been a mystery to me but,
More than in any other profession,
The sea  offers a greater chance to satisfy this need.
The sailor never arrives
Because each new port is a stepping stone to the next
And on to the next
Until the nomadic lifestyle grows too much.
It maybe that the sailor observes other people
Settling into a pattern of life which brings rewards
Such things as family and home,
Anchored to other views of living
Rather than constantly on the move.
So the sailor leaves the sea
And puts down roots.
Or does he?
The sound of a seagull screaming ,
The wind moaning around the roof of his house 
The sound of waves lapping on the shore
Will awaken in the hidden recesses of his mind
The longing to feel the excitement once more
As the ship goes silent,
Ready to leave for the sea.

It can be purchased through Amazon, smashwords and createspace.

Saturday, 24 May 2014

Princess Daphne

My latest fantasy novel PRINCESS DAPHNE has just been published at
It is the forth in the Rombuli Saga series.

' It has been six years since the war between the elves of the Golden City and the invading Black Elves from Nelwee who came through a time and place rift from another planet. After the defeat of the Black Elves on the Sacred Mountain, Edward Eastland had found a way to send them back through the rift. 
Since then Edward has been missing the tension and fear that had been part of his every day life during the war. At times now he could almost feel the tingle when he entered an alien space. At times he missed the fast beating heart while creeping through enemy territory. Then there had been the pulling in of his power to help his friends or himself when they had encountered danger. All this had been missing over the six years.
He had settled down as the appointed Governor of Rombuli and Sandaria. Times were peaceful. His daughter and son were growing up. Kitty, his wife thanked her God every night that her family were together and safe.
One day with no warning the dragon Umbrossa lands in meadow behind his home with a message from the elves of the Golden City. An alien creature has been captured wandering the streets of the Golden City. It does not speak their language but can speak his name. A search deep in his memory could not bring forth any knowledge of an alien creature that might know his name. Curiosity started to infuse his thinking. If he answers the call of the elves, will this draw him back into the world he thought he had left for ever?'

This novel follows from:

All can be purchased as paperbacks from or or
As an ebook from,, for downloading to kindle, ibooks and other ebook electronic readers.

Sunday, 11 May 2014

A Legacy from Mary

My second thriller follows on from the first Brotherly Love.

A Legacy from Mary

Ken Flood was an academic and events in the wider world did not effect his life. Then his friends Joshua and Mary were killed. The only connection was a country called Mengambi, Joshua was a Mengambian and Maria untook short courses in the country. Suddenly Ken was caught up in the game of power excersised in Mengambi when he agreed to take Mary’s place teaching on the short courses in Mengambi. What he wanted to find out was if there was more to his friends deaths than reported. Can he survive the pressure from his employer in Mengambi and the request by his brother to gather information.
This can be downloaded from,, ibooks and other ebook readers.
As a paperback from, and

Saturday, 10 May 2014

Brotherly Love

My first thriller novel!
Can be downloaded as an ebook from kindle, ibooks and other sites for ereaders.
As a paperback from, or

This is a story about fear, of somebody out of his depth in a world made strange to him by events he cannot fully comprehend.
It is a novel about Ken Flood being pulled by family loyalties along paths of experience which would be best left unexplored.
Ken Flood lives a quiet life with his wife, Doreen, and two daughters in Plymouth, working as a lecturer in the University. He minds his own business and is relatively happy with life. Until, that is, his brother Norman arrives unexpectedly one day asking for help. Norman works for the government or so Ken assumes.  What his brother asks appears to Ken to verge on an attempt pull him into the murky waters on the edges of crime. Ken has to decide quickly whether to help his brother out of brotherly love or let his brother face his unknown pursuers alone.
Reluctantly Ken agrees to help and soon finds himself outside the law, being chased by people he does not know, trying to deliver a mysterious package, given to him by his brother, to a man he has never met in London.  Along the way there are chance encounters with people who through friendship are willing to help.
Will Ken manage to stay ahead of his pursuers? Can he keep those who help him safe from intimidation? Will he find out who are his friends and who are his enemies? Is his brother using him to hide his own criminal activities?

Monday, 24 March 2014

Womens' equality

I was lying in bed drinking my mug of tea when I heard an item on the news which made me sit up. Luckily I did not spill the tea. It was a woman telling girls that they should take up cheerleading to get exercise. There appeared to be no hint what this implied. It means the girls putting on small skirts and tight blouses to stand waving pom poms at the side of the pitch while their men go out to play sport. Sport is not for girls. Leave it to the macho men. It has always stuck me as strange that in the land where feminism is entrenched there is still this idea that women should stand around and cheer on their men.
Then I got to thinking further. There is still a tendency in the shops to have areas for girls toys and for boys toys.Girls have dolls etc. boys have cars. The packaging for girls is pink, for boys blue. Even Lego has gone along with this trend in designing Lego for girls and boys.

In my latest fantasy novel Princess Daphne, King Ironbrew of the Iron Hills dwarfs said. “ Bancudgel why did you let Dustin and Organta go with this Edward Eastland? Especially Organta. Fighting is no business of a female dwarf. They should be at home providing a comfortable place for the dwarfs to return to. Their place in life is to cook, clean and look after males needs. That includes producing an heir.”
It strikes me that in a great deal of society this is still the case. What a great deal of talent and skill is being wasted.

Tuesday, 11 March 2014


A question that rings through my head. I wake up to the COE of the Co-Op threatening to resign because somebody leaked his salary details. Then we hear his projected earnings are to be over £3 million. This is absolutely unbelievable. When he was appointed  the CEO of the Co-Op he must have had some knowledge of what business he was joining. What he wants to do is change the nature of the busines. The only trouble with that idea is that the new organisation would not be the co-op. It would be just like any other retailer.
It occurs to me that the co-op should set an example to all other businesses. Why does somebody feel that their contribution is more than 100 times greater than the lowest paid worker. They might think they are superior but by that magnitude?
Maybe a system where basic pay for the boss was 10 times the lowest salary. On top of this there should be a bonus pool at the end of the year. Everybody employed should then share the bonus according to their wages. This way all contributions to success would be recognised.
If the CEO of the co-op is so upset at earning 100 times other employees he should go.

Sunday, 2 March 2014

Book Promotion

Have just submitted some of my ebooks into the smash words read an ebook week. The promotion discount off the price of the books for one week.
Tales from the Sea is now at 75% off
The Teacher of the Rombuli, The Return of the Exiles and The Prisoner of Parison at 50% discount.

Wednesday, 5 February 2014

London Underground strike

In my book Managing Transport Operations I show that most passengers do not want to be using transport. The question usually asked by transport providers is what are we trying to sell. Obviously the answer is a cabin, a seat or some space for freight. The proper question to ask is what does the consumer wish to buy. What in reality is the consumer of transport wanting from transport? If the transport consumer could find some way to instantly transfer from one place to another  they would avail themselves of that opportunity. To cut a complex argument short, it is the arrival which the consumer is buying. They want to be at the destination so that they can carry out their wishes.
This argument puts the consumer at the centre of the transport process. The journey has to be accomplished safely so that the passenger or goods arrive undamaged. It has to be accomplished to the time advertised.
Back to Transport for London. Many passengers need reassurance to complete their journey. They do not want to be presented with an array of machines to buy a ticket. To help them negotiate the process, they need ticket office and helpful staff. It strikes me that in the present dispute, the needs of the consumer have been lost in the shouting by both side. One problem is that the great majority of passengers using the underground are daily travellers. Not all. I can think of numerous times when I have stood in the station in another large city in some other country than the UK and found it almost impossible to purchase a ticket. Transport for London should think deeply about their attitude to passengers. It looks on the surface as though they are slipping back into the production idea of transport provision where the needs of the operator are placed before the needs of the consumer.

Published by Kogan Page
Available from Amazon.

Thursday, 2 January 2014

The Prisoner of Parison changes.

The third book in my fantasy series The Rombuli Saga titled The Prisoner of Parison is over 700 pages long. Niot only is this a long read but the cost is rather high.
I am planning to split this into two novels of about 350 words each. There is a natural division at about halfway through. It is at the point where Edward Eastland and his friends sneak into the Citidal in Parison and manage to rescue Tulka, the leader of the Covenent. It ends naturally when Edward, his sister Morag and Vibrus the dragon enter Tulka's mind and rid him of the control constraints put there by the Black Elves. I am planning to keep the title of this book as The Prisoner of Parison, book 3 of The Rombuli Saga.
Book 4 will be called The Governor of the Rombuli and will then chart the war between the Empire and the black elves.
That is the plan.