A Boat For My Potplants


My nautical project took me to glorious places, metaphorically speaking. There were parties on board. There was The World's Smallest Pirate Radio Station. Of course there were plants. And one day even a gorilla.
The boat also became my 'Writer's Retreat'. I decided to become an author, writing my debut novel aboard the boat. The book, called MUDDY WATER, was naturally set in Wivenhoe. Amazingly, several local people paid good money to have their names appearing in the book, and a lot of cash was raised for worthy charities - the RNLI, MIND, The Samaritans, and The Royal British Legion.
Now, my next multi-singular selling novel, FLORIDA KEY, is in 'production', due for publication in October 2017.
I'm sure to be visiting writers' block along the way, as well as euphoria, self-doubt and inspiration.
See how my book goes through all the stages - from initial concept to final print. I'll take you with me on my personal journey as I work on the words, on the cover, on the marketing, and on the publishing.
Maybe it will inspire you too to have a go at bringing out THE BOOK IN YOU. Everyone has a story in them, just waiting to be told, and after all, if I can do it, anyone can.
(Click on the tabs below to see more about the Writer's Retreat In France, the old Boat For My Potplants, Tallulah the Motorhome, Alfonso the Car, and Jane the Woman. And to find out more about MUDDY WATER the novel, click the cover to be transported to its Facebook page)

Sunday, 14 September 2014

Last Night Of The Proms

Andy Stollery with Cheleas outside The Station pub (Andy is the one not wearing the trousers)
Crumbs, dear blog-readers, there's always so much going on in and around Wivenhoe, that I just don't know where to start.

Well, a good place is always at The Station pub, surprisingly situated very near to the railway terminal that is also called the station.

Last night I attended the Last Night Of The Proms - not at the Royal Albert Hall though. This venue was ten times better, and Chelsea of The Station pub certainly knew how to throw a great party. Andy Stollery welcomed me in by giving me a flag to wave. Or was it Chelsea? I couldn't tell the difference by the time I'd got there as I'd already had a few cheeky glasses.


This morning I'd say I was a little hoarse to say the least. Ney, my voice was shot to pieces as I'd been singing at the top of my voice to Rule Britannia and whatever else there was. I vaguely remember trying to keep up with Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious but I don't think I was in tune, but then again no one else was either, so no worries there. And for that matter, the entire pub was out of time too, but who was taking notes anyway?

Then this morning, still nursing a mini-hangover (I never get real proper ones), I decided to venture out to deepest Mersea Island to accompany my old mate Greg and his daughter Yasmin on his boat. A real sailing boat at that.



Blimmin' 'eck - what a pullava just to go out on the blinking water for an hour. I now know that I have the right idea just keeping my Boat For My Potplants moored up on the quayside outside the pub in Wivenhoe and enjoying its stationary status. 

All them ropes and sails and things! Enough to make anyone want to jump overboard, as I thought Greg was going to do when he realised that he didn't have enough depth of water to go anywhere for a while. 

Ho hum, we really needed someone who knew what they were doing, but sadly I was by now feeling worse for wear, so I wasn't able to offer my very useful assistance and kept myself quietly to myself. I was feeling a little sea-sick.





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