This is another tale about my father, usually called Jack or sometimes Jock.
It came from my Dad and recounts an incident which happened in retirement when Mum and Dad lived at Dewshill Cottages beside the busy M8 motorway in the shadow of the Kirk o Shotts TV and Radio transmitter.
I have enjoyed telling this story down through the years because it captures the essence of Dad.
After a recent re-telling I was urged by my son Craig to write it down.
If you enjoy this one, try Early One Morning, a story from his time working at Yorkhill Hospital for Sick Kids.
This is a wee tale prompted by a Writers’ Circus challenge - ‘the light switch’.
As I wrote I thought of it as a tale to be told to children, that is, as a ‘read to’ story. And, as usual, I wondered how to find a willing and affordable illustrator.
My writer friend Peter soon pointed out that this is in fact a story for adults, an archive story to remind us all what our wee ones are/were like at Ethan’s stage when questions come relentlessly.
Kareth Paterson my editor suggested that if it was to become a story for kids then it would need a lot of work to dramatise the language etc.
So, here it is, nearly as written. Many years from now Ethan as a bigger boy might read and enjoy it.
Perhaps one day, when Santa brings or sends me an willing and industrious illustrator, I will re-vamp it as a children’s story. Pigs might fly.
As you read you may detect that Ethan is keen on ice-cream and sweets, items he gets only very infrequently. Think healthy eating, think fruit!
This is a sad little tale about neighbours in a high rise block.
It was written in response to a Writers’ Circus challenge: “The man/woman upstairs.”
This is another Maisie Kaywood story.
It reveals another side of Maisie and takes us into the world of of the medical profession.
Many thanks are due to Kareth Paterson for her diligence an fortitude. Any remaining errors are all mine,
At Writers’ Circus we were challenged to write a piece about flying.
This tale recounts a short joy flight we experienced in Australia when visiting friends.
It happened a long time ago, but the take-off and landing trauma is with me still.
Far better to be in a big, big plane, with eyes firmly closed.
This is a wee tale set mainly in Dornoch, a tidy, well-heeled coastal town on the far north east coast of Scotland, famous for its golden sand beaches and its world-renowned golf course.
It was written as a response to a Writers’ Circus challenge - “I should have said something.”
The story centres on the actions of Janine, recently retired, who finds a suspicious object on the beach, while walking a friend’s dog.
This is a tale of a man who goes out into the gloom of a blustery afternoon in late autumn in search of prawns to make a spicy stir fry. . ..
Recently I came across what turned out to be an older version of this story that was full or errors!
I went at once to this website and read the ‘posted’ version which, while passable, needed improvement.
Here is the revised version.
Some time ago I wrote a story called “Driven”, which involved a lady police officer called Gemma Brownlee.
In Driven Gemma was a secondary character.
In Flash Flood she takes centre stage.
Beware, this contains some bad language and references to sex and drugs.
This is a story which came from a challenge I set for the Writers’ Circus.
I started out on a quite a different story and then, because I could not get it finished on time, I turned to this.
Where did it come from? No idea.
Let me know what you think?
This is a tale based on my father who was variously known as John, Jack and Jock.
The essence of this tale is true. My father was a joker who enjoyed winding people up.