Hello, hulloo, hola and herring!

Sorry for the looooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooong absence (yes, THAT long – possibly even longer. Feel free to add some more “o”s if you must). I have been away working on an extremely important project – namely digging a hole. A very deep, very long hole.

In fact I was attempting to dig to the Centre of the Earth.

It was all going swimmingly and I was sure – absolutely certain – that I was on target. But unfortunately, when I finally broke through I discovered that I wasn’t in the Centre of the Earth at all, but was actually in the Centre of Perth. An easy mistake to make, I’m sure you’ll agree – they do sound very similar after all (though there is less molten lava and slighty fewer sinister subterranean creatures in Perth, and nicer cafes).

Despite the disappointment, I still think it is an achievement. If only the monsters hadn’t followed me through the hole and tempted me back to the caves (when I say “tempted” I mean “tied me up with string and put me in a grubby sack with some klegwhumper dung”) I would be celebrating with a slice of lemon drizzle cake or a Chelsea bun right now.

In order to take my mind off my return to cave-dom I have been working on a new book. All my published works (yes, “works” – that’s how jolly important they are) so far have been picture books aimed at young children, but this one has NO pictures and is definitely NOT for tiny chiddlers. I’m hoping to have completed it by the end of the year, but in the meantime here is a sneak preview of a small section at the end of the prologue. Keep it under your hat would you? And if you ever happen to visit the Centre of the Earth, do send a postcard – I fear I’ll never make it there at this rate….

Preview

I can’t describe the girl, save for the brown shawl and one scuffed black boot with a gaping hole where the sole had separated from the leather upper. I didn’t even get a chance to see her face before the man lashed out.

At first I thought he’d punched me in the chest, which struck me as odd. I staggered backwards, confused. Then I spotted the blade in his hand. It wasn’t huge – perhaps only four or five inches – but a slick of dark liquid was smeared up its length.

The silence was deafening. The girl lay still and quiet, shrouded by her shawl, while my attacker stood impassive and unblinking.

Then the pain came. Not the sharp pain I would have expected, more like I was being thumped in the chest over and over with a crushingly heavy weight. The waves of dull agony started washing across my body and my knees buckled beneath me. I crumpled to my left, scraping down the smoke-blackened sandstone wall on to the freezing wet ground.

I lay on my side as weakness consumed me and my body started shutting down. I was trembling furiously – through cold, shock, fear or all three.

I knew what was happening and I was scared. I could feel death coming.

Curled like a baby on the white-blanketed cobbles, I watched my life slip away in a creep of deep crimson on the pristine snow. Icy flakes began to cover my body and face like a sheet being drawn up, and the whisps of winter mist leaking from between my lips grew ever fainter.

I felt tears pool in the corners of my eyes, now unfocused and glazing over. The last thing I saw as a slowly pulsing blackness closed in was the girl’s holed boot.

A sole detached, I thought quietly to myself. A soul detached.

A small, sad smile forced its way onto my lips and everything came to an end.

**********************

That’s how it happened. That was the night I died. December 28th, 1860.

But please don’t feel too sorry for me.

I got over it.

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