Cliff Richard

It looks like Cliff Richard has been the victim of over enthusiastic policing. Or it could be a stitch up by the police. We have to feel sorry for Sir Cliff either way.

In my novel " An Ordinary Life" Tom Houseman gets the feeling that the police have been responsible for the shooting of his friend. The detective denies this when they meet.

" The door opened and Detective Inspector Henderson walked in. Tom was immediately silent.

Marlene almost snarled. “ What do you want?”

Henderson smiled slightly. “ I am here investigating the shooting of a man on my patch. It does not matter who that man is or what he has done. The police will investigate any attempted murder.”

“ Even though you might be the reason why he is here?” Tom asked evenly.

It was obvious that Henderson was far from pleased with Tom’s question. “ What are you insinuating professor?”

Tom did not hesitate or hold back his feelings.“ You employed the oldest police course of action in making sure that your questioning of Derek Jones was given the greatest amount of publicity possible. It has been obvious for a long time that the police can influence the way the public thinks by controlling the way in which stories are reported. If those people taken in for questioning do not have the means to counter your slant on the story until they are released, the polices’ version of events is entrenched in peoples’ minds.”

Henderson looked hard at Tom. “ You had better be careful what you say Tom Houseman. Are you accusing me of trying to stitch you up?”

Tom grinned. “ Not really accusing you of having the intention of getting me sacked from the university but that is the direct result of your arresting me a few months ago. You are not so thick that you had no inkling of what would result from your actions that day.”

Henderson looked as though he was going to hit Tom. “ I can assure you that was not my intention at all. I am sorry that you lost your job though it will  not make much difference to your way of life will it?”

“ If you mean financially, no.” Tom spread his hands. “ There is also the subject of reputation. I remember in Nigeria the morning Ken Sira Wawa was executed telling my companion that that could not happen in England. I did add however that the police could make somebody’s life hell by hinting at things. He did not believe me at the time. He does now.”

“ I will speak to you again later,” he said to Marlene, glowered at Tom and turned on his heel to leave the room."

An Ordinary Life by Edmund Gubbins available from Amazon and www.createspace.com as a paperback and Kindle and www.smashword.com as an ebook to download.

The Prisoner of Parison by Eddie Gubbins

Book 3 of the fantasy series The Rombuli Saga - ' The Prisoner of Parison ' by Eddie Gubbins.

Edward and his friends had gone. Now all that was left was for the Rombuli Army to retreat back to the Alskar River. 

Silker the Commander of the Rombuli Army had said "We do not have enough trained soldiers to do anything about a direct attack on the enemy. With odds of twelve to one . we can do nothing ultimtely to stop their advance. All we can hope for is that Latask and Nelvask can hold the enemy at these places by using their magic. The other thing we can do is leave some people behind enemy lines to harass their backs and their supply lines. I have to admit it is not much of  strategy but it is the only one I can come up with at this time. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I realise it is only a delaying tactic, hoping hat something will come up in the fitire. I can see little hope of it succeeding."

Deep down they all know it is suicide but it is all that can be done until somebody leads a party to Parison and frees Tulka, the prisoner of parison. He is the leader of the magician's faction called the Covenent but has been imprisoned by the Black Elves. With his magic and the rest of the Covenent there might be a chance of confronting the Black Elves.At the same time urged on by Edward Eastland, the elves of the Golden City stir in their forest and agree to help the humans. 

Who will lead the assault on Parison  or will it need to be a clandestine mission? Where is Edward Eastland and will he come back in time to use his magic to rescue Tulka? The situation is desperate. The enemy appears to have much stronger magic and more soldiers. Will Nelvask find Edward in time and will the elves of the Golden Citry help in the war. Can Tulka be freed?

The Elves of the Golden City go to war!

" As the King’s army approached the valley, Devron and Over Master Rudric, standing on the stone keep overlooking the defensive earthwork, watched as the elves and humans fought off another assault. For over two week they had fought every day, either defending the earthwork or sending out patrols, under the protection of the elves, to disrupt the enemy in their camps or along their supply lines. Even though the earthwork was held, both Devron and Rudric knew that both the men and the elves were exhausted. They were so few against what seemed an almost endless stream of the enemy. Moreover an enemy pushed on by leaders who did not seem to balk at the number of casualties.

Devron said to Rudric, who had become more than a comrade over the last two week, “ It is only a matter of time."

He never finished. A mental message came into his head and he let out a shout of joy. He could not stop himself pounding Rudric on the back.

With great difficulty, Rudric maintained his soldiery manner. “ What have you heard? I will never get used to this mental communication even though I have seen the Covenent do it before I met you.”

Devron turned him away from the battlefield and pointed. “ Over that ridge down the valley in about one hour will appear an army of elves. According to Corlina there will be three thousand elves and thirty lore masters or magicians as you call them. The tide is about to turn.”

Just as Devron had forecast, over the ridge at the end of the valley the elves of the Golden City marched. Riding at their head was the King flanked by Corlina and Dormont. Behind in ranks of four flanked by cavalry on either side rode the lore masters. After the riders, into view came rank upon rank of infantry, bows over shoulders, sheaths of arrows at their backs. Further back came more cavalry escorting the supply packhorses. Proudly fluttering in the breeze were the banners and pendants of the great Elven families and districts. The ground seemed to shake under their feet and when they came in sight of the earthwork a ragged cheer went up from the defenders."

" That night after eating, Dormont confronted the King. “ Your Majesty. We cannot hold out against the Hundro of the Sea Elves. They were bred for fighting and we can only put up energy shields against them. None of us possesses the power of Edward Eastland to bring one of the creatures down. In the Great Civil war that almost ended civilisation, the Golden Dragons came to our aid. Though there were only a few of them, they matched the Hundro. When the war was finished and the black elves banished, we agreed as elves never to call the Golden Dragons again. They however laid on King Manulus what they referred to as the KING'S CALL. I have no idea what that means but it is said that a true prince of the blood can make that call. I know you do not have the power of your brother or your sister Corlina. However, you are a true prince of the blood. You have an obligation to invoke the call now or we will never defeat the black elves and their allies. Call for the sake of your people and our very survival. Prince Maraud, I know, wanted you to use the Call. Don’t be angry with him for telling me. He was thinking of ways in which we might gain some advantage over our enemies.”

King Oleron looked troubled. “ The CALL has never been made since the instruction was given to King Manulus. Two things worry me as the King of the elves of the Golden City. Twenty generations have passed since the Civil War. Who knows what compromises have been made to the true blood in that time. I do know as King how to make the call. My father like his father before him passed on that knowledge just as I have to Prince Maraud and his brother. What worries me is that my blood has become so thinned over the years that the CALL will not get the Dragons to come. Then there is a question mark over the Golden Dragons. What happens if they have all died out?”

Dormont laughed. “ My King, stop trying to put off the moment. As my father always said one never knows what the outcome will be until one has tried.”

“ You win my old friend.” The King smiled sadly, his blue eyes still troubled. “ Tomorrow we will go back down the valley with Corlina out of sight of the earthwork and I will try.”

The next morning, Dormont and Corlina accompanied King Oleron down the valley away from the earthwork until they were over the ridge and out of sight of the keep. They tethered the horses near a stream on the edge of the moors and walked out into the meadow.

 King Oleron stood facing west and thought of all the words he could which might have some significance in this situation, shouting these into the morning air. Nothing happened. There was no answer.

He was close to despair. It was not going to have any effect.  Then he sank deep within himself searching for the right phrases. It was like descending a mountain through low cloud. He could see nothing. Every thing was indistinct. He concentrated even more.

Suddenly, the mist cleared, tumbrels fell into place and it was like turning a key in a lock. He knew what to do. The knowledge planted by his father became distinct.

He opened his eyes and stood upright facing confidently west. The words of the ancient language, which had become tainted and modified so much over the centuries, sprang into his mind. His thought projected these words towards the west and, after a pause, a roar in his mind told him that his call had been answered.

It was too quick for the distances involved. The King had expected a wait but, almost instantly, three great shapes appeared diving into the meadow from the west. Large beasts whose scales glowed golden in the sun. The great nostrils trailed smoke at the end of wedge shaped heads. The tails were used to guide them down.

They landed one behind the other surprisingly gently for creatures of such a size. As the King approached struck dumb by their beauty, the leader bent his forelegs and lowered his head to the ground.

“ Greetings, Oh King of the Elves.” The words vibrated in Oleron's head. “ I am Vibrus, the foremost Golden Dragon. I have answered your call. Kallis and Umbrosa have accompanied me. What can we do for you?”

King Oleron of the Golden City stood tall but was only as high as the dragon’s head. “ Thank you for answering my call.” he bowed deeply, his expression full of wonder. “ I did not know whether there were any of you left in this world.”

“ Valhalu, my father, gave a pledge to King Manulus. As you see we are a long lived species. Unfortunately we do not produce many offspring so there are few of us. How might we be of assistance?”

The King looked sad. “ Vibrus. We are troubled. After the Civil War, the Sea Elves were banished, along with the Hundro, to another time and place. We do not know how but they have found a way to return. They are once more enslaving the humans and regimenting the land. The few who are back along with the Hundro are searching the land for us. They want to be able to force us to combine our power with theirs and bring all of the Sea Elves back. We can fight the Sea Elves and the human magicians in blue robes but we are powerless against the Hundro. We would like to ask you if you will help us fight the Hundro.”

The Golden Dragon Vibrus raised his head and let out a bellow that echoed off the hills and away up the valley. “ We will challenge the Hundro, my king. You will ride to war on our backs leading the elves of the Golden City once more into battle. Mount and we go to war!” "

Available from Amazon and www.createspace.com as a paperback and kindle or www.smashwords.com as an ebook for downloading

Fantasy novel ' The Return of the Exiles' by Eddie Gubbins

The Return of the Exiles as fantasy novel by Eddie Gubbins book 2 of the Rombuli Saga series.

The Empire was disintegrating. There had been no communication with Parison for years. People reported that strange creatures had been seen. Sending troops to investigate was proving futile. As soon as the soldiers crossed the border nothing was heard from them again. The plan was to ho;d  to Rombuli while somebody found out what was happening in the rest of the Empire. Edward Eastland was given the task of finding the Walloonian army at a place called Bryant's Ridge. He has to leave his new wife Kitty behind as he sets out with her brother Boric and his friend Tag. In the event they become cut off from Rombuli. They set out to find a way back to Rombuli to help with the war effort. Edward wonders whether his powers will help them find a way back and keep them safe. As they search desperately for a way back, Edward learns more about his magic powers. Will his friends keep following his lead. As they set out they face the possibility that the Empire might not exists when they do return.

Here is an example  from Chapter 5 where Edward Eastland engages the enemy with his power.

" Taking the reins of his horse from the attendant, Edward mounted, made sure his sword was loose in the scabbard and started forward. Tag grabbed the reins and stopped his horse.

" Are you mad," Tag shouted his eyes wide with fear. " I have warned you before about this mad course of action."

" Let go my horse, Tag," Edward ordered in a flat hard voice which brooked no opposition. " This is something I have to do. There is some deep down compulsion telling me what I have to do. Let go now before I force you to let me go."

Boric's voice came from behind Edward. " Let him go Tag. I believe him. I think his time is here for this deed and we must let him have a go. Come on. We will escort him out onto the field."

Edward grinned at his friend. " Thank you Boric. One thing. When we get out there and get the attention of the rider, you must stop and let me go on my own. Just be on hand to pick up the pieces when this is all over."

" Very reassuring," Boric muttered to Tag as he nudged his horse forward alongside Edward.

Together the three friends rode through the ranks of the army looking neither to left or right. The archers and the pike men opened a path for their passage, all faces looking on apprehensively. When Edward reached the sergeant, he paused.

" See, I am not running away. Get your men ready to cover my back. It could get very sticky out there," Edward grinned.

The sergeant saluted and turned to his men. " Get ready to fire when I instruct you."

They rode away from the flank of the army, three small figures on the landscape. The opposing army appeared huge at the bottom of the slope but Edward did not look in that direction. His eyes were focused on the creature with its rider hovering above the field. As he rode forward, he was judging the distance between him and the rider. When he was sure they were close enough, he paused again.

" Well my friends," he said his eyes still on the creature. " This is as far as you come. Get ready to act if there is any chance that I can be rescued."

Leaving Tag and Boric sitting apprehensively on their horses, Edward rode away from the army on his own. Boric watched as though not really there, unable to help his friend. He heard

Tag gasp by his side but did not look round. Slowly Edward was being enveloped in a silver light. It shone faintly around him like a translucent barrier covering his horse as well.

When Edward stopped a good twenty metres from his friends, he raised his sword above his head and sat motionless on his horse. Suddenly a shaft of silver light shot skywards from the tip of his sword and the creature bellowed his acknowledgement that he had seen.

The rider on its back turned the creature and it flapped lazily in Edward’s direction. Edward did not move and Boric found it hard not to yell to his friend to ride away.

While the creature was hovering a short distance away from where Edward sat motionless on his horse, the rider on its back lent forward as though to ascertain who was defying him. Raising an arm, the rider sent a beam of intense white light towards Edward. Boric watched detached as the beam smashed into Edward and his horse. The barrier surrounding Edward started to glow until the light was so bright Boric and Tag had to shield their eyes. Brighter and brighter it became as the rider poured energy into Edward's protective barrier.

As Boric started to feel that nothing could survive in that intense light, the glowing corona surrounding Edward started to move. Slowly at first and then faster, the white corona twisted until it was like a mini tornado. Faster and faster it turned while the creature roared its defiance. Then Edward flicked the end of the sword and a bolt of light smashed into the side of the creature making its hide smoke. Again and again the sword point flicked away and more bolts of light smashed into the creature. Turning away, its hide smoking, the creature tried to retreat. The rider was trying to steady his stead and to raise a barrier against Edward's assault. Too late. More bolts left Edward’s sword point but now they hit the rider almost knocking him from the creatures back. As the creature started to fall from the sky, one last bolt left the sword, smashing into the rider, setting his clothes on fire and he fell backwards from the creatures back to plunge smoking and burning into the ranks of the enemy army. The creature gave one last scream and tumbled to earth behind the enemy's ranks.

The light surrounding Edward flickered, faded and went out. Tag smashed his heels into his horses flank and rushed forward. Edward was slumped over his horses’ neck, his sword dangling from his hand almost touching the ground. Tag grabbed Edward and heaved him back into a sitting position, taking the sword from his hand and putting it back into its scabbard. Tag noticed the sword was shining like silver but he had no time to think about that. Hauling Edward's horse around, he started back towards the army accompanied by Boric."

Available from Amazon or www.createspace.com as a paperback or kindle or www.smashwords.com for down loading as an ebook.

Fantasy novel ' The Teacher of the Rombuli' by Eddie Gubbins

Fantasy novel THE TEACHER OF THE ROMBULI by Eddie Gubbins, book 1 of the Rombuli Saga.

Here is an example from the novel where the hero Edward Eastland learns about his power when confronting one of the magicians from the sect called the Covenent.

At eleven o'clock precisely, Imperial Grandmaster Borovic, the Army Governor of Rombuli Province of the Parison Empire, rode into the Alskar town square surrounded by his personal escort. He was there to appraise the men from Alskar aged between sixteen and twenty six.  Standing with the rest of the men was Edward Eastland, son of the leader of the Alskar Town Council.  

As the soldiers dismounted, Edward’s eyes were drawn to a figure in a white robe beside the Governor.

A red sash held the  robe in place. A small wooden staff was thrust through the sash at his waist.  Around his neck was a heavy gold chain from which hung an amber jewel. This was one of the priests of the Empire, said by some to have magical powers. It was also whispered that these priests could read men's minds and force any man to do their bidding by shear force of their will. 

They were called  Covenenters and were bound together by training, breeding and secret incantation. It was rumoured that Tulka their leader, who resided in far away Parison, was as old as time and was the most powerful man in the Empire.  The sight of the white robed figure spread dread amongst the spectators. 

He instinctively raised his mental barriers as taught by his father  when the Covenenter looked in his direction. 

His father, Idris Eastland, had warned him that morning.  “  Be wary of the Covenenter if he is there. He has some suspicions about your abilities so try not to demonstrate what you can do. Oh come off it Edward, stop making that face. Your mind communicating ability is as strong as anybody in Rombuli. Then there is your ability to move things by thought alone. I can lift things like a pen and into my hand if I am sitting at the desk. I cannot make a hammer or a knife or a saw or a file fly halfway across the workshop into my hand. I have tried and the effort leaves me weak and sweating and the tools hardly move. However, I was on the way back from the warehouse late one night when I saw you rack all your tools and tidy up the bench without moving a step.  I expect I am the only one who knows and lets try to keep it that way.  I would not like to see you confronting the Covenenter and then throwing a rock at him by your mind power. Let's try to at least keep that side of your power a secret though you will have to shield your mind if he tries to probe into it.” 

Once all the names had been ticked off  a list, Borovic gave instructions for the sergeant and two soldiers to inspect the men. As the soldiers started to walk down the lines of men, the square fell silent. The slight creak of the soldiers gear was very loud in the air as the tension mounted. The sergeant closely inspected each man, looking them up and down as though checking a prize horse. Certain men had a red ribbon fixed to their chest when the sergeant nodded to the accompanying soldiers. 

  Edward was convinced he would get a ribbon but the sergeant, after giving him a superficial glance, moved on. Edward wondered why he had escaped the scrutiny of his other friends and happened to be looking at the Covenenter as the sergeant passed. For a moment Edward felt the black eyes burning into his and the slight pressure of a probing into his mind. With ease he concentrated his mental defences. The penetrating gaze of those eyes scared him even though the Covenenter was some distance away. In one brief moment, Edward was made aware of a power in the depths of those eyes he had never encountered before. This, Edward realised was only a hint of the power which, when fully unleashed, could make men obey no matter what they were ordered to do. Once more Edward felt the probing of his mind but his defences held.  

All those without badges were ordered to disperse and rejoin their families when the men had been inspected. Around twenty were left standing in the square and Edward now had some idea why he was not chosen. All the men were of the about the same height, six feet or so, a good three inches taller than Edward. Without glancing back, Edward walked towards his family.  Morag, his sister, was comforting Matt’s wife and glancing over his shoulder saw that Matt, his best friend, was amongst those still standing in the square. As Edward came to the line of soldiers, he heard a roar from the square and turned to see what was happening. 

“ I will not leave my wife and daughter!” Matt was standing rigidly facing the Imperial Grandmaster and shouting at the top of his voice. “ I don't care whether the Emperor has ordered me to come with you or not. Tell him to find somebody else to act as his escort!” 

Edward stood rooted to the spot. He knew how short Matt's temper was, having many times felt its full force. Once in the grip of his temper, Matt tended to lash out blindly at anything or any one who got in his way. Many times Edward had come to Matt's rescue by talking their way out of difficult situations  when they had been out in the town together. In desperation, Edward thrust his thoughts into Matt’s mind. Desperately he tried to get through to Matt and make him stop. Matt's thoughts were too full of despair and anger. Edward's mental thrust met a complete blank. 

Edward stood and watched. Very deliberately, Matt tore off the red ribbon, flung it onto the ground and turned away from the centre of the square, ignoring the sergeant’s order to stop. Walking purposely towards Morag and his wife, Matt did not look back. Two soldiers stepped passed Edward, grabbed Matt by the arms and wrestled him to the ground. There was a surge from the crowd and the rest of the soldiers struggled to maintain order.  Silence once again descended on the square. 

Suddenly Matt sprang upright, flinging the soldiers holding his arms away. Letting out a roar of frustration and rage, he rushed across the square towards Borovic. Matt was too quick for the soldiers occupied as they were with the crowd and in one round house swipe he smashed the sergeant out of his way. In a daze, Edward saw the Covenenter standing directly in Matt's path. 

Edward yelled desperately for Matt to stop, pushed his thoughts into Matt's mind and tried to somehow warn his friend. He was too late. The Covenenter placed his feet firmly apart and calmly drew his staff from his belt. To Edward, standing helplessly at the edge of the square, everything happened in slow motion. The Covenenter pointed the staff at Matt and blue flame sprang from the end. Two tongues of flame spiralled together across the square and focused on Matt. 

It was as though Matt had run full tilt into a brick wall, so abruptly did he stop. He did not fall however. Like a puppet, he was held upright in the blue corona of light, twitching as though having a fit. The Covenenter let the blue light fade and Matt slumped to the ground as though dead. 

Edward found himself running across the square towards  the place where his friend lay twitching. Skidding to a halt, Edward sank to his knees. Ignoring everybody, he grabbed Matt's wrist hardly able to feel anything because of the racing of his own heart. Feeling a slight flutter, for a while he knelt beside his friend trying to calm the wild beating of his heart on the realisation that Matt was alive. 

The Covenenter had not moved. He stood, his white robe fluttering in the breeze, his black eyes boring steadily into Edward's. His staff pointed unwaveringly at Edward's chest. 

“ Leave him where he is,” the Covenenter ordered. “ He will be unharmed when he regains consciousness.” 

“ You are evil,”  Edward spate out, feeling the full force of the Covenenter's mind trying to will him to get up. Edward easily resisted these efforts. 

Ignoring the Covenenter while turning to talk to the Imperial Grandmaster, Edward said very slowly. “ Why do you permit this? All he wants is to be with his wife and baby. If your baby was only a few weeks old, wouldn't you resist every attempt to take you away by force? No, I suppose not. All you see is duty to the Empire. Your family and your life can go hang if you get an order from the Emperor.” 

The Imperial Grandmaster stood by the table his expression impassive but did not reply. 

“ Get up and leave him here.” The Covenenter ordered in a tone which brooked no argument. “ Go back to your workshop and stop interfering in matters which are no concern of yours. I will not forget your defiance and we will meet again.” 

Kneeling in the dust by his friend’s side, Edward stared at the Covenenter almost willing him to use his staff. 

‘Go on’, Edward's mind projected, ‘ make me do what you want’. 

For a wild moment their minds locked.  Edward resisted the pressure to make him get to his feet but he wondered whether he could resist the power of the staff. In his mind he caught a swiftly hidden feeling of doubt in the Covenenter's mind.  Resignedly, he understood that too much resistance on his part could result in many people getting hurt. Sighing, he let his mental defiance slowly drain away. He did not drop his mental defences. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Edward turned to two of the young men who were staring open mouthed in his direction. 

“ Come here and help Matt to his feet.”  They looked from Edward to the Covenenter as though not certain how to react. Seeing no reaction from the Covenenter, they came and helped Edward get Matt to his feet. Edward deliberately spent some time brushing the dust from Matt’s cloths. Matt's eyes fluttered as he started regain consciousness. The two men helped Matt back into line leaving Edward alone facing the Covenenter. 

Edward brushed down his own cloths and approached the Covenenter. Thrusting his face close to the Covenenter's, Edward said in a low voice. “ We will meet again and I will remember the lessons I have learnt today. You could not compel me with your mind and maybe I could resist the power of your staff. The trial between us will have to wait for another time.” 

Turning away, Edward sensed the silent laughter of the Covenenter. Underneath the laughter, he detected doubt in the Covenenter as though for once the Covenenter was uncertain.  

Ignoring everybody, Edward walked away from the square. He passed through the crowds without looking back and on up the street towards his home. He did not hear the sergeant bark the order for the Rombuli to march. He was almost home when Imperial Grandmaster Borovic lead the column of men out of the square. 

Edward's thoughts were in turmoil. He knew that all the people in the square  had been cowed by the power of the Covenenter. Everybody watching  had been struck by their sheer helplessness when Matt had been beaten down. All they had was work calloused hands against the power of the Covenenter's mind and will. Even I, thought Edward, one of the few with any hint of power did very little to counter the power of the Covenenter. Though I may have defied him for a little while, in the end I climbed meekly to my feet and came home as though compelled by the force behind those deep black eyes. 

Available from Amazon and www.createspace.com as a paperback and kindle as an ebook for downloading.

We are all in it together!

We are all in it together is the mantra of the British government. Don't make me laugh.
They rescued the banks but will let the steel industry go to the wall. They are now trying to put shackles on the BBC so that their friends in commercial television can make money. Beware if you are disabled, they will take away all the help you get from benefits. With education, they plan to turn all schools into academies so hat their friends can run the trusts and make money.

This question is explored in my novel set in the 1980's

Two brothers are at home on holiday much to the delight of their mother. It is the first time they have been at home on holiday together for several years. Their father is the union convener at the local shipyard and he leads the men out on strike against the proposed redundancies in the shipyard. This starts at the same time as the brothers arrive home.Though on the surface both brothers support their father, underneath the surface there simmers the stew of disagreement. Mark, the elder brother, is fresh from several months at sea as a ship's officer. He refuses to compromise his upwardly mobile lifestyle or his friends for the sake of family harmony. He lives for the moment and grabs any opportunity for happiness. Jim, freshly graduated from university, supports his father passionately and without question.

Can the brothers find a way to compromise their positions and fulfil their mother's wish for a happy few weeks or will their anger boil over into open conflict and the threat of family breakup?

From the novel, Mark comes face to face with the hatred he has innocently stirred by his attitude.

" After putting his car away in the garage, Mark blinked as he closed the doors in an effort to see clearly in the darkness of the courtyard after being blinded from the lights from inside the garage. Off to one side he could make out the glow of the lights reflecting along the passageway leading to the road but all around it was very dark. He gingerly stepped away from the doors and set out carefully towards the lights when something pushed him in the back. Stumbling forward, he desperately tried to regain his balance but his shins came up against something hard and he was pitched forward onto his face. Footsteps crunched on the surface of the courtyard and he instinctively rolled to one side while attempting to regain his feet. He had half succeeded in getting to his feet when a boot with a hard toecap caught his chest and he crashed down again.

This time he could not stop a gasp of pain but he still reacted by flinging himself into a ball and coming to his feet in one crouching movement. His breath was rasping in his throat but he strained his ears to hear any sounds as his eyes searched the gloom for a sight of his attackers. Hearing a sound from his left, he moved quickly ignoring the agony which exploded in his chest and swung his fist, feeling his knuckles split as he made contact with somebody's temple. There was a grunt of pain but Mark had no time to savour his triumph.

He was sent sprawling once again by a push in the back, rolling over once more as he hit the ground. This time his defensive manoeuvre was to no avail.  Kicks rained down on him from all directions until pain was shooting through his body. He tried to grapple with the feet that were kicking him and even managed to up end one of his attackers. He could feel the blood running down his face, one of his eyes was rapidly closing and there was an unbearable pain in his chest. Trying to protect his head he curled up into a ball but this only exposed his back. With an effort of will that left him weak and vulnerable, he again straightened and lashed out.  A voice he recognised said, " That's enough. I hope that teaches him not to abandon his friends ". Boots crunched across the tarmac and the kicking stopped. Mark just had enough energy to lift his head and he made out two figures as they passed into the light from the street and vanished round the corner.

" Bob and Bugsy," he thought as he collapsed onto the ground.

Mark lay for a long time, semi savouring the pain which flowed in waves through his body, drinking the blood that dripped into his mouth but unable to move. He could not face the inevitable increase in pain that any movement brought, so he lay where he had fallen curled into a ball like a baby in a mother’s womb. The hurt fogged his brain with a red mist, filled his ears with a whimpering sound and prevented him from thinking clearly. It was the cold from the courtyard surface seeping through his clothes, the excruciating agony caused by his shivering that made him consider moving.

Concentrating his thoughts, he fought against the anticipation of the torture to come, ignoring the voice that told him hysterically to lie still, and forced himself to sit up. Slowly, shutting out the screaming of his body, he made his brain ignore the pain and fought to control his muscles. From a sitting position, he heaved himself to his feet and began staggering towards the lights.  A fog blurred the buildings on each side of the passageway, a scarlet mist made the walls alternately recede and rush towards him until they vanished completely.  Mark had no idea if he was going in the right direction or even if he was moving until the rough surface of a brick wall hit him in the face. 

Luckily, Mark was progressing so slowly, he stopped instantly though the pain this caused in his body was such that he might as well have walked into a solid object a full speed. Throwing out his hands, he tried to hold onto the wall, tried to maintain his upright position and to get his breathing working again. As though he was taking part in a slow motion sequence of a movie, his hands slid down the wall and with a supreme effort of will he managed to turn round until he found himself sitting with his back to the wall. Slumping down in this way, Mark found a position where the pain was almost bearable. Every time he moved without taking care, the pain came coursing back along his raw nerve ends and seemed to explode in his mind. His breathing was coming in short gasps but try as he might he could not stop the pitiful noise this caused.

The time passed as Mark lay slumped against the wall and the pain receded into a dull ache while he did not move. He tried to focus on something, anything to take his mind of the attractive idea of letting go and sinking into unconsciousness. Every time steps passed along the road at the end of the passage or a car approached, hope blossomed in his breast only to flutter away once more when the footsteps passed by without turning into the courtyard. Without much conviction, he told himself over and over again that somebody was bound to come along and find him lying there.

Nobody came and he started to mentally rehearse walking back to the house unaided. In his mind he got up from where he lay crumpled against the wall, walked to the passage, turned left passed the shops, crossed the road leading to the playing fields, passed the yard gates and on to the front door of his house. He imagined himself splashing water over his face to wash away the blood, climbing the stairs and sinking into the comfort of his bed to sleep away the pain. It all seemed so simple. All he had to do was get to his feet and walk. Every time he convinced himself he was ready, the process of standing left him screaming in agony and he would subside back against the wall.

Why? he asked himself over and over again between attempts to rise. Why did they do this to me? The answer when it came unbidden to his thoughts, was straight forward but gave him no comfort. What else can I expect? he asked himself again. People like Bob and Bugsy have been let down by us all. They are sent out into the world half educated, sent out into the world, fodder for other men's ambitions. They are never consulted but are expected to obediently follow the instructions given to them by other people. It is not their place to question the policy laid down by either governments or managements or even unions. When times are easy, they are thrown crumbs of prosperity to keep them happy but when times become hard, they are expected to make all the sacrifices. They are required only to do what they are told. They are not required to think, to question or to form their own opinions. The problem is they do think, they do have opinions and they do question. Unable to articulate their thoughts in the language of the educated, they have great difficulty in getting their message across to the public, to get their voices heard above the well constructed speeches of others. In argument after argument, they are beaten down, not because their case is bad but because their limited vocabulary makes them sound ignorant when compared with the articulate speech of their opponents. Seeing this they turn inwards on themselves, attempting to overcome their disabilities by collective action but even this makes them prey to the articulate middle class advocates of the class struggle who use the very collective strength of the working class as a platform for middle class power. What we have done, Mark concentrated on this point, is give them the framework for participation without the means to really participate. The result is that pressure for change builds up in their society, unrelieved by any safety valve, until the lid blows off their self control. Violence is then the only answer, usually only words but sometimes by action. The very structure of society means that most of their violence has little real focus other than the protest march, the threatening picket line and only occasionally attacks on society itself. If they can manage to fit their managers, shareholders and companies into such a framework, they can channel their violence at these institutions but even then they usually stick to an unwritten set of rules.

But me, what are they to make of me? Mark asked himself. To many of them I am that most despised of people, somebody who appears to have changed sides. I am easy to ignore when I am away, only seen on rare occasions when I am on leave. Suddenly the outbreak of the strike has drawn me into their game but apparently playing with the other side. Not able to articulate their disgust in the face of my logical talk, the only thing they have left is to beat me up to show me their feelings.

Leaning against the wall fighting to overcome the pain, Mark found the logic of his argument obvious and he was unable to blame them too much for his condition. Because he had convinced himself of the truth, he did not cry vengeance on their heads but only felt pity for their motives.

For the umpteenth time that night, Mark gathered his wandering thoughts and focused on the journey home. Again he traced the path to his house and estimated the effort needed to walk that far. Pulling together all the scattered threads of his person, Mark concentrated on standing and walking towards the lights. His vision was blurred, one eye completely closed but he managed to lever himself upright using the wall for support. A voice moaned in his ear and urged him to sit down again but he ignored this and refused to listen. Bending forward in a kind of stuttering shuffle he set off, in this way mitigating the effect of the pain in his body. He did not think but placed one foot in front of the other and staggered off down the street.

He met nobody on the way and by the time he got home, his whole body felt as though it was being pounded apart by giant hammers. The blood that had stopped flowing while he was slumped against the wall was now once more dripping into his mouth and one side of his lip felt as though it was stretched over a tennis ball. His head throbbed and his chest was on fire. He had great difficulty finding the lock with his key and when the door opened, he fell into the hall."

As a paperback from Amazon and for downloading from Kindle.

Tales from the Sea

Tales from the Sea 
by Eddie Gubbins

The Sailor’s Mistress When the cargo is loaded and all falls quiet
The sea itself is calling,
Beckoning the sailor out there beyond the dock.
His mistress is waiting
Where the river meets the sea.
He has no real knowledge of what her reaction will be When he sails out to meet her.
She may greet him in a calm, balmy mood,
Like a gentle lover entwining him in her arms,
Leaving him refreshed and happy when they part.
It might be that she is angry
And will meet him with unmatched violence
A violence that beats upon the senses
And leaves the lovers drained and exhausted,
Ready to rush apart,
Ready to find a place of peace and quiet
Not the feeling of complete satisfaction.
Like all lovers, the sea and the sailor
Will never quite know what moods will greet them when they meet
Or how the mood can change very quickly.
This is the excitement of the sea.
Every time a ship leaves port,
The sailor approaches that love
With a mixture of exhilaration and apprehension.
Will they together make beautiful love under a clear blue sky
Or will they fight?
It is not for the sailor to subdue the sea
But to live with her moods
In the hope that he can survive.
The sea is calling, always calling
As a lover calls.  




Tales From The Sea is a semi-autobiographical novel following my time at sea as a ships officer between 1957 and 1969. The reader will meet the characters with whom I sailed,the good, the bad, the comedians and the tough guys. There are the nights ashore and the visits to exotic places to which I voyaged. Sail with me on the ships old and new, tankers, cargo liners and ferries as they ploughed across the oceans carrying the products of the world. Weaving a spell over everything is the sea and t dangers. To most semen, the sea itself calls. No seaman ever knows what mood will greet them when they sail out of the port to greet the sea or how the mood can change very quickly. This is the excitement of sailing the seas and it still excites me when I board a ship and sail.

Available from Amazon and createspace as a paperback, from kindle and smashwords as an ebook to download.

Yet more moaning about gambling!

Betting and advertising.
I have been watching sky sports which is not surprising as I like most sports. What has screamed out at me is the number of advertisements which involve gambling of one sort or another. Then they end with that admonition " Please bet responsibly!" Or Winston accepting money for his advert and saying " I bet responsibly" at the end. There is no thought for those whose lives have been ruined. No mention of the families that have been torn apart by gambling losses. Think of the heartache and the strife. The cost to the rest of society of these broken lives.
I hear you say that we cannot ban gambling. That might be true but we have a moral duty to mitigate against the worst excesses of gambling addiction.
I think a first step is to ban all gambling advertising. This might not stop gambling but it will help to lower the level and the prominence of gambling on our television sets. Then the government could ban sponsorship by gambling organisations of all sporting activities. Don't say this will not work as all the gambling companies will surely claim. We have banned tobacco adverts and alcohol and despite protests from the companies these have stuck.
SO LET US AT LEAST BAN ALL GAMBLING ADVERTS  AND SPONSORSHIP OF SPORT EVENTS, COMPETITORS AND TEAMS NOW!!!