No separation

What a week again for all of us. Doesn’t help having to look after a sick wife knowing that each time I go out I may pick up the bug. I received an email from Sainsbury’s though, telling me that they now have me on their list as a vulnerable person and I can register with them for on-line shopping and I am allowed priority slots. Great. I signed up, gave them my bank card details, filled a shopping trolley and went to the checkout. No, it doesn’t work like that. There are no slots. Not only are there no slots, their on-line calendar shows nothing at all: no reserved slots, no booked slots, and no special slots for registered, extremely vulnerable people. Can’t email them either because all their email addresses are ‘no reply’. And incidentally, I have a full shopping trolley parked on-line with Tesco too! Where next then, Aldi?

My book world is showing a very small sign of an opening because of Book Bub ads. I’ve sold eight books this month on D2D, and this is often reflected when I advertise on BB. The sales are spread around Apple, B&N, Kobo and Nook. Some are with Amazon, so hopefully I can make some inroads into higher sales. Or maybe my AMS ads will come to life and show some presence on my dashboard. I’m in for an Advertising exercise with Bryan Cohen’s ad school next week in which he will be challenging his students, and any other outsiders who sign up, to spend five days with him on-line rising to the challenge and realising a profit on AMS. Don’t know how I’ll manage to keep up with him, but I’ll just have to set some time aside and make the effort. I won’t neglect Pat though.

Last week I mentioned memories, and how songs trigger them. Well, something else triggered a memory for me: a post on FB. The person was singing the praises of Sir Keir Starmer, newly elected leader of the Labour party, and at the same time making some unpleasant things about Boris Johnson. Don’t know why this person thought it necessary to sling a bit of mud, but maybe that’s how some extreme politicos work. Anyway, my mind went back to when I was working for a living at the potato factory. It was a twelve-hour night shift, I was the only maintenance man on shift, and a pump had stopped working over the potato store. It was at the bottom of a 50,000-litre tank and I knew it would be blocked with mud. It was ten o’clock at night; just the right time to be in the pub on a Saturday night, but I had no choice but to call in Wally and his gobbler. Wally was a small man, about 5’3”. He always wore a single-breasted jacket and wore a cloth cap. And his face was covered in lumps; loads of them like lumpy porridge. Poor Wally. The gobbler was Wally’s old tanker, which we often used to suck out blocked drains and sumps. And Wally was an ardent socialist. Anyway, I managed to suck out all the water with a submersible pump, and then removed the inspection plate at the bottom of the tank. It was obvious what the problem was as me and Wally peered in at the sea of mud. And while all this was happening, Wally was banging on about Margaret Thatcher and the workers revolution which was about to come. All the Tory wasters would be put to the sword and the country would become a true socialist haven where all the workers would enjoy what was rightfully theirs. So, there was a working-class Tory and a working-class Socialist with a problem, but I knew it wouldn’t be Wally who would be clambering into that tank with a shovel to dig the pump out. We’re all in this together.

Still haven’t heard from Joffe Books. Wish me luck and stay safe!

Fencing & Painting

Another drab week for Pat, but she’s pulling through now. Two more weeks to her penultimate chemo, then one more. I know we could all do without the pandemic, but it makes it increasingly difficult knowing that I can’t put Pat in her wheelchair and take her for a walk along the prom at Bognor, just to cheer her up. When we were clapping at 8 o’clock the other night, I joked that Pat was clapping for me because I was her carer, but we are under no illusions as to who the gesture was for. I don’t envy those NHS workers who have to go into work daily, at the ‘coalface’ so to speak, and hope they don’t catch the virus. Quite scary.

I finished the book I was reading because of the amount of time I waited in the car while Pat was having chemo (not allowed in with her now). This was ‘House in the Woods’ by Mark Dawson. It was a five-star read; I would recommend it. I had planned to start on Scott Mariani’s book, House of War, but managed to get distracted by David Jason as Inspector Frost on ITV hub. Maybe next week I’ll give Mr. Mariani a look.

I found myself thinking about a development in my pulp fiction thriller, which I get to when I can and don’t expect to finish until the end of the year. Anyway, I came up with some pretty good ideas, mulled them around a bit and decided I should get them into the book and help get me somewhere in the development of the story. Trouble is I was in the shower. Perhaps I should have a waterproof pen and notebook with when I take shower. I can remember some of the bright ideas I had, but it was eight hours ago and I’m beginning to flag. I might get round to jotting them down somewhere.

My book sales for last month were pretty good, but that was because of the Book Bub featured deal. I sold about 400 copies of The Boy from Berlin, and a few of my other titles. I’m back on the flat line again but will be looking into adjusting my advertising campaigns. Doing that is quite complicated, and I’m almost in awe of those writers who can crack the minutiae of Amazon ads and sell hundreds of books a month.

Another job I have to keep on top of is the garden. And that’s the reason for the photo this week: our garden seat which takes pride of place outside our front door. It needed painting, which I did yesterday, and finished off retightening all the screws so it doesn’t fall apart. It’s this part of the garden — we call it our cottage garden — which looks lovely when the hanging baskets and the wisteria are in full bloom. That has always been Pat’s domain, but she’s too frail to tackle it now, so it’s my job. And I mustn’t let her down. I spent part of the week repairing a fence that had succumbed to the high winds in February and March. I had to patch it together because I couldn’t afford the time to spend at B&Q looking for the right wood and getting it cut. I don’t even know if B&Q are open though. Anyway, the fence is back up and soon the wisteria will be trailing its way through it.

That’s it for the week. Still haven’t heard from Joffe Books. Wish me luck.

Memories

It goes without saying that this last week has been terrible for all of us. I’m sure the coronavirus has impacted on everyone, taking away our freedoms and compelling us to live according to a set of rules that are alien to us. Most have had to cope and put up with the inconvenience of self-isolating, social distancing and joining lengthy queues at the supermarket. I can’t go to my sister’s funeral next week either, which is very disappointing, but it’s for our own safety and the safety of all those people in the NHS and outside who have to get close to those who may have the bug. Me and Pat clapped on Tuesday night along with thousands of others around the globe. So, because of the daily horrors, I thought I would talk less about pain and more about pleasure. Well, sort of.

Last Sunday was my featured deal day with Book Bub for my book The Boy from Berlin, although not in the USA. My total book sales for that book were 448 across Amazon and D2D. I just about made my money back, but at least I may have picked up a few more reader fans. I have also been adding to my subscribers with The Devil’s Trinity, my nuclear thriller. I did have Hell’s Gate as the free book with Voracious Readers but changed that last week. The thriller seems to be attracting more subscribers.

I’ve been asked to join a small team of submissions editors for a charity book being produced by Acclaimed Books. The book will be about stories associated with the current crisis and the proceeds will go to a charity to be decided later. I have been a member of Acclaimed Books for about ten years now and can probably call myself one of the founder members. There were six of us when ABC began as a self-publishing group. I have had very little to do with them over the recent years, apart from the odd Facebook post, but have kept in touch with Peter Lihou, the founding ‘father’ of the group.

Recalling past times came to me again this morning when I heard Tony Bennett on the radio singing the song, ‘I left my heart in San Francisco’. It took me back to when I was in the Merchant Navy and had just spent five days there. As a teenager, it was magical. I did more than just sightseeing; even tried to crew the ship’s sailing boat round the Bay. We intended going around Alcatraz Island, but never made it; the wind and the currents were too much for us. But great fun.

Another song that takes me straight back to my MN days is ‘Dream Lover’ by Bobby Darrin. I was a First-Class dining steward and will always remember a mate of mine by the name of Mick Green. Mick was a good-looking lad, a real Mister ‘Cool’ as well, and a hit with the ladies. But the song always brings to mind the time we were leaving Hong Kong to return to the UK. We were in the dining saloon waiting for the passengers to come in, when in walked this gorgeous looking girl. She had just embarked, so none of had seen her before. She was what we would have called a “cracking bit of stuff”, and was wearing a yellow dress (yes, girls wore dresses in those days!). She was immediately dubbed “Canary”. I could write a book about that, but it would be total fiction. Although Mick might have tried it on; I’m pretty sure of that. But that’s what ‘Dream Lover’ does to me: takes me back to the Canary. I was engaged to Pat anyway, so I was always on my best behaviour.

I still haven’t heard from Joffe Books. Wish me luck!