The soundtrack to my youth was provided by the singer-songwriters of the seventies. Cat Stevens, James Taylor, Carol King et al. Their lyrics and melodies struck a chord (pardon the pun) with a boy in love with his sweetheart. There was fantasy in all things Tolkien and darkness in the pages of a Denis Wheatley novel. All these were an escape from a working class environment where men were not supposed to show their feelings, unless it was anger. The neighbourhood might have been tough but it taught me to look out for those less fortunate than myself. This has become manifest as a vocation, reflected in much of my non-fiction writing where I endeavour to give vulnerable children in society a voice. Perhaps there is a resonance of my own childhood?

But the romance of teenage has never been far away, likewise my sweetheart of forty five years. I still, literally, put pen to paper, to evoke and to provoke. I write to express the emotions that lie within me, undeterred by rejection. Writing is my drug of choice, my cure all. I seek whatever outlets I can to satisfy my craving. Unwilling to stick with one genre, I enjoy the challenge of seeking out new angles and off beat narratives. The journey provides me with a harmony not unlike the songs of those bygone times.