The Boy Who Rescues Pigeons.

Sometimes I wonder what you glean from all these little bits of storyline I post. Do you try to piece the story together? Does it whet your appetite for more? Does it give you an indication of how the characters are progressing? Feel free to write in and share your thoughts.

Here is the bit I have just written ten minutes ago:-

 

Lucas thought for a moment. The scene all around him was so beautiful, the few boats on the water quaintly painted with flowers and names embellished in flowing script. Here and there a few ducks swam serenely on top of the water, or dived momentarily beneath the still, glassy surface, their movements causing little ripples all around; ripples which grew wider and wider before fading to nothing once more.

Across from the towpath were fields of the lushest green grass where cows grazed sedately and gazed at him as if he were the oddest looking thing they had ever seen. Set against a blue sky which held only a hint of the darkness which would later descend, it was a surreal scene and he felt as if he were not witnessing it for real, through his own eyes but instead through the medium of oil on canvas.

It was somehow too perfect to be real.

 

 

Poor, poor Lucas is trapped in a situation that is not of his making. I hope he finds his way out!

 

Happy Reading x

Taken from The Boy Who Rescues Pigeons.

Chapter 13

 

    It was a girl.

    Long, waist-length brown hair framed a face that was impish and open. Probably no more than ten years old, he was struck by the way she held herself in the open doorway; looking out without yet venturing out, as if curious about what the day held in store for her.

    She is part of the new family that’s moved into Josh’s house, Lucas thought. Except of course that it wasn’t Josh’s house at all any more, was it? He looked away, speeding up his pace, wanting to avoid having to acknowledge that things had moved so far on; that Josh had moved so far on…

    “I know who you are,” a voice at his side said brightly.

    Without even looking down, he knew it was her, the stranger from the house. Taller than most other girls her age, she also seemed to lack their customary shyness.

    “I don’t know you and I don’t want to know you. And you don’t know me either,” he put in for good measure.

    “Well maybe not know exactly,” she acceded, “but I have seen you.”

    “Seeing isn’t knowing,” he ramped up the pace once more, an image of Hugh Grant blazing across his inner vision like an incitement to war.

    “I’m Molly. Molly Hickling. What’s your name?”

    “Go away,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

    “Well that’s a dumb name, Go Away!” She managed to make it sound as if she really thought that was his name. It was only the smallest stifled giggle on the end of her words that gave the game away.


Molly is my newest character and I think she has some important things to say...


Happy Reading,


Carmen.

Help! I'm in trouble!

Do you remember my blog about helping out in a friend's office whilst the secretary was away on a cruise? If not scroll back a little...


Anyway she is back now and not too happy with me!


The office is situated at the back of a factory. My dad used to work in a factory. My mum used to work in a factory and even ex-boyfriends of mine have worked in factories, so I don't hark from a blinkered existence.


I understand the high jinks that go on there, the banter and camaraderie and I also understand that there is a level of pornography that is acceptable within the confines of the actual factory unit.


However I did not expect to be sitting at a desk with a large calendar of a naked woman at my back, especially since this was a female dominated office!


The said naked female was beautiful and the image was artfully composed, lit in subtle tones of granite and light grey...but hey in my eyes a woman with no kit on is still a woman with no kit on.


Short of being a woman who actually enjoys another naked female [which I'm not] I really didn't want to be confronted with another woman's breasts every time I reached for the phone.


But I didn't want to just remove the calendar as it was not my place to do so. So I typexed a white bra and pants onto the lovely lady. even for me it was a good rendition. That white correction fluid makes a lovey lacey look over photographic paper I discovered.


To my eyes it was a compromise. Lovely lady stayed up on the wall in her artful pose and I didn't have to keep seeing her bits.


Ah but not so when the real secretary arrived back. Turns out that the calendar was given to her by her husband and came from his factory. She is livid!


Ok I get that it wasn't mine to deface but I have to ask myself why a lady would want such a thing up behind her, especially when the lady is almost at retirement age and in no way resembles the image herself.


So I am in the dog house! ;)


But I have only one thing to say. NOT sorry!


Maybe if the country was a bit more modest in general and we were not confronted with semi-pornographic images at every turn our culture would not be deteriorating the way it is...


Think on it a bit, why don't you?


x

Welcome back! I hope you all had a great Christmas and New Year. Mine unfortunately was a mixed bag and I suspect it will continue to be so for some considerable time :(

Anyway as they say in Scotland, "out with the auld and in wi' the new!"

Now I would like to tell you a little tale of what happened to me just before Christmas.

'Twas the night afore Christmas [actually it was the 23rd but what the heck] and all was still and quiet all around. I had a friend staying over and the house was festive and Christmas looking. Tinsel adorned picture frames, cards littered the mantelpiece and hearth and there was a large glowing fibre-optic tree in the lounge window and another two scattered around the house.

As usual I had several items which had just sold on Ebay, one of which was my old dining room table set and I was awaiting its collection. My friend and I had just returned from walking the dogs and both humans and canines were dishevelled and muddy.

The children were excited and all around us there was much high pitched talk and laughter, children racing each other up and down the stairs and causing the biggest dog to whirl around and around, trying to catch her own tail in anticipation of some extraordinary event. The very air was charged with adrenaline and the scent of some long awaited pleasures and surprises.

It was at that precise moment that the doorbell rang and I ushered in a very dapper looking Asian man who turned out to be my Ebay buyer. Having returned late from the walk, I had not had time to dismantle the table as I had assured him I would do, so I did as any insane Scottish five-foot-two author would have done - I lied!

"I was thinking that to save you the bother of having to assemble it with all its various parts," were there various parts, I had no idea but I was into the bluff now and damned if I was going to fall at the first hurdle I encountered, "and as I knew you were bringing a big van for the collection," I had known no such thing but luckily he had turned up in a big white van, "you might want to take it out assembled and save yourself some bother." I actually managed to nod sagely at myself as if it was the best idea ever spoken aloud.

The dapper Asian gentleman agreed. So we began, the Asian man at one end of the table and my friend at the other. We tried to manoeuvre it through the lounge door into the hall ...no way was that happening! The legs of the table almost jammed in the door frame and we had to beat a hasty retreat.

But of course there was the piece de resistance - the patio doors which led from the conservatory to the back garden. We got the table back through the double doors from lounge to dining room and then dining room to conservatory and finally the outside with no ill effects. But the brick walls of the side passage which leads from back garden to front were a daunting obstacle. Unbending and unyielding they stood steadfast in their foundations and taunted me with their narrow confined space.

There was nothing for it but to dismantle the table - there would be no other way of removing it from the home. My mind searched through the old memories of the ex-boyfriend who had assembled the table originally. I remembered there had been a lot of cursing and many tools and instruments used in the process. But for goodness sake, it was a table...not a build-your-own-house-kit, how complicated could it be? Then I remembered that half-way through the job he had left to buy some bolts...there were bolts holding the table together! My blood ran cold. How on earth was I going to get the table dismantled with the new owner looking on? In absolute panic I turned to my friend.

Like a horse fed on a diet too rich in oats I must have resembled nothing more than a panicked little pony [I would have liked to say horse but that's stretching the truth a little too thin.]

Lips pulled back in a tight grimace and eyes rolling wildly, I assured the buyer that my friend would have the table dismantled in a jiffy. The Asian man went back outside to tell the van driver that there was a delay. It was at this point that it started to rain.

Huge sheets of glacier drops shattered to the ground, soaking everything in their path within seconds. Like rapiers, the raindrops sliced through clothing and footwear; mini heat-seeking missiles which leached the warmth from bones and the humour from hearts.

I could tell that by now the Asian gentleman was no longer impressed. I went back inside to see how my friend was faring.

Like an old beloved relative who is past his prime but wishes to be shackled to the home he has known and loved for so long, the table seemed to be resisting all his efforts to dismantle it. And even more unfortunately the house appeared to be colluding with it! I watched transfixed as the first screws were removed and promptly fell into the cracks between the dining room floor boards. I lunged across the room and using a butter knife, began to frantically gouge the minuscule gap in order to retrieve the screw. Hair plastered to my scalp by rain and the thin sweat of fear and embarrassment I grappled with it until I managed to clasp it in my damp palm.

Meanwhile my friend had moved on to the bolts. The table fought bravely, seeming to withdraw the bolt heads deeper into their holes and securing them there with a determination I had not known an inanimate object could possess. My friend persevered. The table resisted. My friend grunted and groaned. The table remained quietly victorious. Until with a quickness of wrist and keenness of eye my friend held the table a certain way, twisted the bolt whilst simultaneously pushing away from it and in one fell swoop, the table was finally undone, mastered, defeated.

And somewhere inside the very pit of my stomach it felt like a hollow victory...perhaps it was the presentiment of things yet to come...

We carried the table remains outside. By now the unrelenting rain had turned to hailstones of the most frightening kind. Huge balls of ice struck us as we hurried the wooden parts to the two men waiting in the white van.

It was on the first return journey that my friend turned a peculiar shade of white. "Get a bit of paper and take down their registration," he hissed at me theatrically.

"Why," I hissed back, just as theatrically [I hate to be outdone and have a terrible competitive streak.]

"Just bloody do it!" he sniped back, seemingly in a mood not to be outdone. But something about the thin set of his lips and anger in his eyes made me bite back any words which came immediately to my mind.

So it was that I stood outside of my house, in slippers and drenched clothing, in front of the van and tried to look as if I were inconspicuously eyeing up my neighbours property when in fact I was memorising the licence plate of the van for God knew what reason.

But being me, I could not bear the suspense and begged my friend to let me know what all the cloak and dagger stuff was about.

"You know when we went out with the first lot of wood from the table?" he said slowly, as if talking to a demented five year old.

"Yes?" I said, trying and failing to hide my annoyance.

"Well I noticed my car door was slightly open and the glove compartment lid was down... and my satnav is gone! Those men have stolen it."

"Well, I will go and confront them!" I said, feeling like I could now take on the world even though my knees were knocking. I told myself it was temper and sheer anger but in the calmer light of day as I write this I am less afraid to admit that yes, there was a little bit of fear in there too.

"No!" he said. "They will deny it and you have no right to search them. "We will have to phone the police."

I watched the two men battle the elements and lock up their van, all the while willing myself to go shove a banana up their exhaust pipe or a nail in their tyres, anything, everything that would prevent their leaving and prompt them into full disclosure and repentance, culminating in them returning our stolen property.

But of course, none of that happened. instead I snatched the money for the table from the man from behind a half-closed door and then slammed it shut in his face, hating myself for being so inadequate.

Then I reached for the phone.

The police, I have to say were very understanding. They were also very quick. Unusually so. I guess that should have started alarm bells ringing in my head...

"We have a rapid response team on the way and there is a helicopter in the area," the 999 controller informed me.

"Oh, um, ok," I responded. "But you will probably not be able to catch them, they left a few minutes ago," I explained.

"Do you know where they were headed caller?" she asked.

"They are on their way back to London," I related what they had told me.

"London, eh?"

Ok so at this point I should have known that things had become more than a little farcical I guess. But you know what? When wrapped up in the situation as it is actually unfolding, you cannot always see the wood for the trees. In my defence, Your Honour!

"So will you let me know what happens?" I asked.

"We have stopped them and are doing a full search on them as we speak," she stated triumphantly.

Now whilst we had been on the phone I had heard several police sirens but could not bring myself to believe it was in response to my call. But yes, it appeared that indeed it had!

Then the police controller said something which made it all fall into place. "We were in your area anyway as there have been a number of thefts within the past twelve hours, many involving satnavs and we think it is a gang targeting your area. With your help we might just have caught them. Hang up now caller as a constable is on his way to your house with more information."

I thanked her and duly hung up.

No more than ten minutes later, two very soaked PCs arrived at my house with a satnav.

"Is this it?" they asked brandishing the said article in my face.

"No," I stuttered dejectedly. "Did you find any others?"

"Well here's the thing..." he said slowly, strangely using that same tone of voice my friend had used on me earlier, the one that made me feel about knee high to a grasshopper and only half as intelligent.

"We searched the men extensively. We made them empty everything out of their van." He didn't say 'in the torrential rain and hail' but I felt the words anyway. "We made them unlock every box and empty out every holdall and bag in the van..." And oh dear God the feeling in my stomach was telling my head and heart things it did not want to know.

"We looked everywhere and there were none of the stolen goods from any of the houses." He looked me in the eye and we both knew he knew I was an idiot. "Is it possible that the theft had occurred before these men arrived and that their arrival was just a coincidence?"

It was of course the only logical answer and I was doubly humiliated. Not only had I caused innocent men to be pulled over and virtually strip searched but I had not even been aware of the burglary in the very first place!

I bowed my head in shame and felt the weight of life upon my shoulders as the policemen trudged away, back to the innocent men who waited still bent over their van in the rain and hail, searched and grappled with to within an inch of their lives. Treated like ghetto drug dealers - because of me!

So now every time I  go to my Ebay account and view the feedback, I cringe. Nothing has been posted there - yet - but I imagine it nonetheless. It will read something like this:-

"Avoid like the plague. This woman will lure you to her home with promises of Ebay bargains but whilst you are there she will waste your time, snatch your money from your hand and then have you strip searched by the police on departure. AVIOD AT ALL COSTS!!!"

So dear readers, this blog post is my way of an open apology to those poor innocent men.

Now can I interest anyone in an only slightly used dishwasher?

Anyone?

[N.B. The above is a true story - unfortunately for all participants.]

Hi folks, things are too frantic to write a post right now so I'll leave you with this teaser...I have a really funny but true-life story to tell you when Christmas is over.

Until then Merry Christmas and Happy New Year !

And of course - Happy Reading as ever.

Carmen.

Miss Marple after all!

A little mystery has been solved.

I have been wondering why my blog viewing figures often reflected countries where English is not the native spoken language.

In particular, I wondered about Russia as it features prominently on my leader board of viewing statistics. But now the mystery has been solved. Well partly at least.

I have been placed on several internet sites around the globe [or at least my book trailers and books have] and this has led the readers/viewers to my blog.

So to carry the deduction forward [as per Miss Marple style] I can conclude that some kind soul liked my worldly offerings and chose to share them with their countrymen. Now isn't that a kind gesture!

On the negative side of humanity I have this sorry tale to report. A close friend of mine has had their workplace vandalised and robbed. Cash, computers and other equipment were stolen but worse than this, was the sheer pointless vandalising which also took place.

A new car was overturned and left spinning on its roof so that it crashed into everything around it, causing even more devastation and furniture and contents were strewn around, causing much work and mayhem for the people who had to clear it up.

Whilst the obvious result of this is much work to regain even a semblance of order, it is the underlying problems, the unseen issues which have directly arisen from the break-in which may eventually prove more devastating.

To date, four days have been wasted in trying to sort out the workplace as it should be and other work which should have been underway has had to be postponed. Without access to their computer system and its passwords, the staff will not be paid, invoices will not be sent out and bills will stack up.

What will be the inevitable end to this scenario? Another bankrupt company? Dear God, I hope not with all my heart!

And so I write this blog. And you read it. But you, my readers are not the vile and soulless sort of individuals who would perpetrate such a crime. So I ask myself why I am telling you when all you can do is shake your head and empathise.

The reason I am telling you is that sickened to the stomach, I  have to rail against these dregs of humanity. I cannot stand up and say 'oh well, that's life'. Never could, never will.

Because there is a part of me, deep inside, that thinks if ever I did that, if ever I just accepted such despicable behaviour, then I too would be a lesser person for it. I WANT to rage, I WANT to scream and shout, because it is my way of challenging this violation I guess.

So if you see me throwing back my head and baying to the moon, at least you will know why.

Vital Statistics!

Here are my vital statistics :-

are you ready? Close your eyes until you think you can't handle it anymore, take a deep breath and open them....here they are...

United Kingdom 324
Russia 133
United States 72
Ukraine 19
Netherlands 16
Japan 14
Germany 6
Italy 3
Philippines 2
Azerbaijan   2                                                                                     Now I bet that wasn't quite what you were  thinking of...   These are my blog statistics and they do make for curious analysis. Russia consistently overtakes the US in reading my blog and sometimes even overtakes the UK...go figure.   Anyway I might be a little quiet on the blog front for a few days and indeed quiet generally, as I am about to have my tonsils taken out.   I am rather worried about this, largely due to my friend who keeps telling me that the pain is excruciating...and the fact that it will prevent me talking, singing, laughing and eating properly for a while...all the things I LOVE to do!!! But hopefully I will still be well enough to write the odd post or two here. As mentioned in yesterday's blog, I recently had my royalty figures come in and it was heartening to see that whilst sales of copies of volume I are still on the rise, sales of volumes II and III have also increased, indicating that I am achieving longer term readership within some quarters. Now I have said this before but it bears saying again - please, please post a review on Amazon or wherever you bought your copy from. Even if it is a single line, it will help me, I promise! And remember, books IV and V are almost ready to be published with the remaining five books in the series awaiting my attention. In addition to that, I have a few other novels in the pipeline, some sci-fi and some more of a cross-over between genres. I'm not saying any more than that right now...you will have to bide your time ;) Anyway, once again, if you are one of my loyal readers, then many thanks. If not, then that is a question you need to be asking of yourself, because quite frankly you are depriving yourself of a really good experience ... :) Wish me luck in waving my tonsils goodbye...adieu for now. Carmen. x

Take a peek on Amazon!

Don't forget that you can type my name into the Amazon search engine and you will be able to read some reviews of my books, as well as sample the first couple of chapters.

Go on, take a peek. You know you want to ;) x

Russia, Germany, France and everywhere else!

Now I have mentioned this before but I am aware that this blog is read widely in Russia and many other foreign countries.

What I want to know from you please, is whether you are reading it in English or as translated into your own language?

I ask because if you are translating it, there may be bits which do not translate well and if that is the case, I will try to bear it in mind for future posts, so please let me know at carmen.capuano@ymail.com.

Remember too that you can log onto http://carmencapuano.getfreehosting.co.uk to view mywebsite!