American import

FRENZY a Daniel Story by Mark King

markkingtheauthor@gmail.
@author_king
FRENZY link to American Amazon
FRENZY link to Amazon U.K
FRENZY link to Nook





The make up was on, the cloths were looking stylish, and the mood was just right for a night out. Was it the weekend? Was the wife spending a night out on the town? No it was the 31st of October All Hallows evening or what is better known as Halloween.

The children were very excited and had been looking forward to the evening so by the time the sun said its good byes, and night had descended, they were transformed into Dracula and a witch, with the help of fancy dress, and some face-paint.

Arrangements had been made with a neighbouring family to join together so while the ladies went out into the darkness with the little ones in toe I stayed at home to answer the door, and hand out the sweets.

The grandparents had provided a scary looking pumpkin which they had grown themselves. I placed it on our driveway and left the porch light on, so letting trick or treater's know that they were welcome to knock on our door.

The first started to arrive just as the family walked out at about 6pm and for the next hour there was a steady stream of people at the door. A whole host of little children dressed as zombies, witches, Dracula, ghosts, and assorted monsters. "Trick or treat" they would call out when I opened the door and I would give them some sweets, plus the odd one to the their parents who stood in the dark shivering. Occasionally I popped one in my mouth so by 7.15 when my two smiling, and very happy children, came bundling through the front door I was on a sugar high.

By 7.30 the treats were gone, the pumpkin put away, the porch light tuned off, and there were no further people at our door. Halloween is one of those events that seem to split the adult population in the U.K into two different camps. The first are those like my family who make the most of it, and then the second group who don't like it because generally they see Halloween as an American import.

Well America is a country that has willing welcomed people from every corner of the world, no matter what their background, taken the best of what these people have to offer, and then moulds it into something which we can all enjoy. I can't help but admire any country that can does this, and Halloween sums up what freedom is all about; it's about choice. You have to choose to leave the porch light on, open the door, and hand out sweets, or you can choose to leave the light off, the door closed with your feet up, and enjoy whatever flicks your switch on a cold, dark night.

Of course on the 5th of November we celebrate one of the major events in U.K history, and that's Guy Fawk's Night. A time for bonfires, plenty of fireworks, and for burning the Guy. For my readers around the round we celebrate this night in remembrance of the day when a plot to blow up the British parliament by Mr Guy Fawks and his gang was foiled.

But this time it will be myself standing outside in the cold as I set light to a host of fireworks, and boy am I looking forward to that.

Regards

Mark.

Dreams

markkingtheauthor@gmail.com
www.the-frenzy.com
www.bookguild.co.uk
twitter@author_king
FRENZY a Daniel Jones story by Mark King







Two weeks ago I travelled over to Lowestoft for an interview about my new book Frenzy a Daniel Jones story and also for a photo shoot. The first plans for taking the pictures on Lowestoft fish market went out the window when some job's worth stopped us, but never mind we got a photo of me, the book, and the market in the back ground which ended up being used in four different newspapers.

The interview was between myself and the journalist Kathryn Bradley. It was held in the Volunteer public house, an old hunting ground of mine in my youth, and as we are both professionals we only had a soft drink.

Kathryn had recently moved to the town from her native Yorkshire and was very charming. Her reassuring voice matched her sensual manner, and her skill at writing shorthand was just amazing. As we talked she copied page after page in that magical writing without hardly looking down.

One thing we did talk about was the comradeship that existed in the fishing industry and what a shame it has all but disappeared. Of course this has happened in many other communities, and industries, from mining, and steel, through to ship building. It's a shame when any company closes down and people loose their jobs, but it's a lot more destructive when the whole industry closes because people can move between companies looking for jobs, but whole communities can't move looking for work. So when this happens the whole community is strangled.

It was such a shame to see the old fish market derelict and it had an effect on me more than I had expected. I knew it had gone down hill fast because at lot of my friends who relied on fishing lost their lively hoods, and left town looking for work not just in new areas, but in completely new jobs as well.

For the next few days I had sleepless nights after suffering from some funny dreams. Well not so much funny as more disturbing to be truthful. In one dream I was on board one of the fishing vessels which Colne shipping used to own. I was on my first ever fishing trip after volunteering to spend two weeks at sea, but after just a few hours I was being violently sick down the toilet. The toilet became blocked because of this, and as more people used it to empty their bowls the fuller it got. I kept being sick as it kept filling up. In the end it was full of nasty things and I had only two choices; to be sick outside on the deck as the boat was rocked by a violent storm, and be washed over board, or to stick my head into the toilet.

I woke up in a cold sweat, and my heart was beating fast.

It was the early hours of the morning and I tried to get back to sleep, but it was no good. I kept tossing and turning, and in the end I gave up, went down stairs, and made myself a cup of tea. With mug in hand I settled on the sofa, put the laptop on a pillow, then rested it on my knees, and started to work on my manuscript to Doom a Daniel Jones story.

As I wrote the dream kept creeping back into my thoughts and I thanked God that I'm an author who has the pleasure of writing in comfort at home, and not a fisherman bobbing about hundreds of miles off land at the top of the North Sea, while the wind is blowing, and your life hangs in the balance.

There were some other dreams too with another one which involved myself, some fish, and a boxing match!

No doubt there is some Freudian reason behind these events, but who cares? Not me because since my birthday celebrations there have been no more.

It was an enjoyable interview. You can miss the comradeship with one of the draw backs to being a writer is the isolation. You can spend five days at home looking at four walls while the children are at school, and the wife at work. This is why I try to get out and about as much as possible either through voluntary work, stewarding at football or verger, and as this is my Friday posting, why I will be heading to my local pub www.fatcatcanary.co.uk this afternoon for a drink or two, and a good old chatter with my friends.

So if you are going out too this weekend have a good time, and try to be good, and if you can't then don't get caught.

Sweet dreams

Mark.

Birthday boy

markkingtheauthor@gmail.com
www.the-frenzy.com
www,bookguild.co.uk
twitter@author_king
FRENZY a Daniel Jones story.






Saturday was my birthday. I'm not going to reveal my age although I still like to think I can still hack it down with the twenty year olds.

All the lunar stars must have been aligned in the correct heavenly sphere, or something similar along the same lines because every thing fell into place. It's the half term school holiday (it feels as if they have only just gone back after the summer break) and my parents asked if the children could stay around theirs on Saturday night because they wanted to take them out all day Sunday.

The wife and I got an invite to her best friend's 40th birthday party which was being held on the same day as my birthday. They have known each other since they first went to primary school, and now her friend lives in London she doesn't get to see her as often as she likes. 'You don't mind if I go to her party do you?' She asked, 'you have been invited too, but if you don't want to go I understand,' she continued.

It was sweet music to my ears. I was free to spend Saturday night with my friends.

The final piece of the heavenly jig-saw to fall into place was that my football team was playing at home as well.

I started to spread the word via text to meet in the Steam Packet public house at 5pm after the game was finished. I informed Kim the owner I would be holding a birthday bass in his place and all was set. The only draw back I could see on the horizon was if the mighty Canaries were to loose the game against the visiting team Cardiff. This would have put a dampener on the evening as a lot of my friends will have gone to the game.

Well it was a 0.0 draw in the end although quite a good game which Norwich could have easily won 3.0 if the other teams keeper hadn't played so well.

When I reached the pub it was packed with people standing outside to enjoy the last of the autumn warmth before winter hits. I was noticed and as I crossed the road a chorus of happy birthday wafted from the crowd. Everyone had turned up and it took ten minutes to free myself from all the congratulations before I could reach the bar. When I got there drinks were already waiting for me and the offers kept flooding in. I couldn't keep up with all the pints coming my one way and was soon on the Bacardi and diet cokes, a lot of them were doubles.

Kim had provided a free buffy and the atmosphere was in full swing. By 10pm the shots were being necked and people were standing on tables and chairs singing along to football songs. By midnight I was heading home in a taxi in a very merry mood.

When I slumbered between the sheets my bed was empty. By the time the dear wife came home crashing through the bedroom door, fell into bed with her cloths strewn across the floor, and her make up still on, I knew she had had a good time too.

In the morning my head was numb with the first vibrations of a thundering headache looming on the horizon. My heart was galloping like a startled Stallion, my throat was sore from all the singing the night before, and my soul cried out for liquid refreshment that would rehydrate the desert that was my body. I tried to ignore all of this, but when I felt the need to pee it was pointless trying to get back to sleep; I would need to get up.

I turned over in bed and looked at my weekend medical kit; a pint of water, a packet of paracetamol, and some Rennie indigestion tablets. I devoured all three and then turned back towards the wife. I nudged her to see if she was still alive and when she turned onto her side while grunting at me I decided to get up.

I paid a visit to the little boys room and the clock said it was 8am. Now as I normally get up between 5.30 and 6am most days I considered 8pm a good lay-in. I went down stairs and made myself a cup of tea then watched Match of The Day on BBC one. Something was swirling in my head and it wasn't the hang-over? The Sunday morning repeat of Match of The Day starts at 7am so how could it be 8 in the morning!

Then I remembered the clocks should have gone back an hour the night before and it was only seven in the morning. I knew it was pointless  trying to get back to sleep no matter how rough I felt so I decided to enjoy the piece and quite, plus the rare luxury of having the only television in our home to myself, before the children returned, and the dear wife finally got up.

All in all a very good birthday indeed.

Regards
Mark.

More than my job is worth.

markkingtheauthor@gmail.com
www.the-frenzy.com
www.bookguild.co.uk
twitter@author_king
FRENZY a Daniel Jones story by Mark King





Every now and then we meet people who just get up your nose. The type of people who are no-bodies, but because they have a job title they think they might be somebody, although they can't make a choice in life without hiding behind somebody else, or some made up rule.

The type of people who seem to have no other purpose in life other than to just live, and can't or won't do something because it's more than their job is worth to do it. The type of people who are generally called in the U.K; the job's worth.

Now for my other English speaking viewers around the world I presume that where ever you live be it America to Australia then the term, a job's worth means the same as it does in the U.K. For my Chinese, Russian, German, French viewers, and all the other countries where people read my blog I can only presume again you will have the similar name in your mother tongue for somebody who is similar.

Why I'm bringing this subject up is because last week I had the misfortune of bumping into two of these people.

The first was on Tuesday. I had been contacted by the journalist Kathryn Bradley from the Lowestoft Journal www.lowestoftjournal.co.uk who wanted to interview me about my book Frenzy a Daniel Jones story. I was born and bred in Lowestoft and started my working life on the towns fish market when I left school. I completed my apprenticeship as an auctioneer and had a wonderful time selling the daily fish catches from the fishing fleet in the mornings. It was cold work in a noisy and smelly environment with plenty of rough character's, but in the end it all came crashing down when Margaret Thatcher gave away the industry. She signed the EEC common agriculture and fisheries policy. Tens of thousands of people relied on this industry, now there are just a hundred or so.

I was the third generation to have a connection to the market with my Grandfather working as a fisherman on the last steam drifter from the port. Because of this the editor wanted the photographer to take some pictures with me, and my book, on the market and so we arranged to meet there. The only problem was that when we got on site a security guard wouldn't allow the pictures to be taken because as he said, 'it's more than my job is worth.' So we got on the phone to his boss who again passed us on to someone else, who again passed us on. After half an hour and five different people we gave up, and went to Nest Point the most easterly place in Great Britain, then took the pictures there. It only took five minutes and the job was done.

The second occasion was last Thursday at Norwich Cathedral. I volunteer for a few hours every week as a greeter in the hostery at the Cathedral www.cathedral.org.co. I like to get out and meet other people and I greet the visitors at the entrance, point them in the right direction, answer any questions as best I can, and give relevant information. Well on this day a man turned up on a mobility scooter for a tour of the cathedral, but wanted to walk on the tour so leaving his scooter behind. He asked if there was somewhere he could store it and I said, 'yes, under the stair-well.' It's out the way and no problem to anyone.

But, and as I say there is always a but, standing next to me was a minor lay-official from the cathedral who snapped at me, 'no he can't.' This official has his nose stuck so far up his own back-side he loves the smell of his own shit.

'Why I asked? It's not a problems!'

'It's the rules' he snapped again at me.

I said jokingly that rules are made to be broken and he snapped back at me again. If he was around when Jesus Christ was alive healing the crippled, and the lame, he would have snapped at him too for helping the poor, the sick, and the defenceless.

Now I'm quite a forgiving person but some people just get up your nose, and at that point I just wanted to punch his one. I've never heard such clap-trap before because people are always leaving things safely secured under the stairs, but this petty job's worth decided differently. So I just shrugged my shoulders moved away and got on with my life.

Never mind because as an author you need to take features from people you meet in day to day life for both good, and bad characters, and this is what you need to do if you come across such petty job's worth. As I'm now writing the manuscript to Doom A Daniel Jones story if I need a couple of arseholes to use in it I know just the two people to base them on.

Regards
Mark King

Bring on the rain.

markkingtheauthor@gmail.com
www.the frenzy.com
www.bookguild.co.uk
twitter@author_king
FRENZY a Daniel Jones Story by Mark King.





I woke up on Monday morning feeling tired. I slummed on the sofa with a mug of coffee hoping it's caffeine would wake me up. I turned on the television and watched as the weather girl dampened my worn out spirit even further with the news that all I could expect all week was five days of continuous rain.

My mother and step-father had stayed over on Saturday night with the wine, and beer, flowing freely and when they left on Sunday my liver was struggling after three enjoyable days of wining, dining, and merriment. So by Monday morning my well intentioned plan to be in the gym by 7am had gone the same way as the Sunday roast I had cooked, and consumed the day before; down the toilet.

I tried to kid myself that I would go later in the day, but as the rain started to lash against the house I settled myself on the sofa with my laptop on my knees, and called up the manuscript for DOOM a Daniel Jones story the sequel  to Frenzy.

For some reason my time recently has been taken from me like a lolly pop from a child, I just don't know what happened to it; but I do know one thing, and that's I haven't spent near enough time on DOOM a Daniel Jones story. The first royalties for Frenzy have distracted my direction of thought, and to carry on the success of Frenzy I need to keep on writing.

You can be a good writer but to be a successful writer you need to publish as many books as possible. If you look at some of the best known authors you will see that they have been published many times.

So the conditions on Monday were perfect for writing. There were no distractions for me and I didn't want to go far so when I started to write I couldn't stop, and I was still writing at nine in the evening, sitting in the same spot on the sofa while the wife sat at the other end watching her usual fare of Monday night television soaps in Eastenders and Coronation Street. For my viewers in America, or China, or Russia, or anywhere else around the world. I don't know if you get these programmes in your relevant countries, maybe on some obscure cable channel? But if you do I can tell you for me there is no better reason to write if all you have to look forward are these mind numbing soaps

So while most people will be looking out of the window when they wake up this week feeling down in the dumps because it's raining; I'm quite looking forward to it because deep down I do love writing as well as reading, and I know this week there will be none of the distractions that come with a glorious sunny day when the sky's are blue, and there is only the odd whiff of a puffy white cloud floating silently above.

Of course that's what I would to think is going to happen, just a week of writing and reading, but as I say, there is always a but. When you work form home the dear wife will always have a long list of choirs to do, and it's no different this week because once this blog has been posted I will have to load up the car with boxes full glass bottles, and other items, then slog my way to the recycling centre, and stand there in the poring rain as I place each individual item into the relevant bins, green and brown glass in the right bin, clear glass in another etc.

The list will go on and on so while the dear wife is on the school run I better get writing.

Regards

Mark King.

Enjoy your life.

markkingtheauthor@gmail.com
www.the-frenzy.com
www.booklet.co.uk
twitter@author_king
FRENZY a Daniel Jones story by Mark King





The beginning of the week started well. I have finally managed to bring my dispute with Dulux paints to a final conclusion, and we got some compensation for the year of hassle we went through as we stood our ground. It wasn't so much the money in the end but the principle of seeking fair justice in our dispute which counted.

I also got a phone call from a journalist who wanted to interview me about my book FRENZY a Daniel Jones story, and to take some pictures.

One of the draw backs now that we have settled with Dulux is that we can go a head and repaint our doors, and while we are at it also my daughter's bedroom. Now there are things I enjoy doing in life and things I don't, and decorating defiantly falls into the latter.

The weather also started to improve.

My daughter has been away for three nights on a school trip and my son stayed around his grandparents on Thursday so me and the good wife had one of those rare luxuries in a family, and that's a night together without the children.

As the saying goes, 'when the cat's are away the mice will play' and boy did we have some fun.

I have received my first royalties for FRENZY a Daniel Jones story and treated the dear wife to a night out. We got a taxi into the city centre and went for a drink, or two, before finishing off in a Spanish tapas restaurant.

It was a good week, the type of week that makes all the hard work worth it.

I always say 'life is hard, but someone has to enjoy it,' and I try my best to be one of these people. There's plenty of grumpy people about and if it makes them happy being grumpy then that's their choice.

So I'm carrying on with the rest of week as I started it, and where ever you live around the world enjoy your life, and don't let the grumpy people get the better of you.

Regards

Mark

Winter has arrived

markkingtheauthor@gmail.com
www.the-frenzy.com
www.bookguild.co.uk
twitter@author_king
FRENZY a Daniel Jones story by Mark King






Winter has now arrived in the U.K. After one of the best summers we have experienced in the last few years; well when I say best summers I mean by the standards we are used to this country. On occasions it was almost like being in the Mediterranean with endless days of glorious blue sky's and hot weather.

We British are famous for always talking about the weather, but compared to most parts of the world we have it quite easy here. Places like the Gulf of Mexico especially around the south east cost of America get  hit with hurricanes  and then there are the typhoons that devastate the coastal areas of Asia from China to India. These places experience floods on a biblical scale.

You can then go to the other extreme to the parts of the world where they have little or no rain and people have to scratch around the dirt just to survive. Even great modernised countries like America, Russia, Australia, and China can suffer from droughts that ruin the lives of the farmers who rely on the coming of the rains to feed their crops.

In the U.K we consider it a drought if we aren't allowed to use the water-sprinkler on our lawns. Then people accuse the water companies of taking too much profit, and not investing enough in the water system while at the same time blaming the government for letting these companies getaway with it.

In the U.K it's the same when the rolls are reversed with too much water and there is flooding with the same people complaining about not enough money being spent on flood defences. Now the flooding we normally have here is about ankle deep and hangs around for twenty four hours before it drains away, nothing like the flooding you had in New Orleans the other year or which certain countries in Asia have to suffer year after year when they can be under water for weeks.

So winter has arrived in the U.K, we have had four days of showers and on Sunday it rained all day. So what did we do? Well the wife took the children bowling with some friends while I stayed at home cooking a lovely English Sunday roast with pork (and crackling), stuffing, roast potatoes, cauliflower cheese, Yorkshire pudding, roast parsnips and carrots, plus cabbage and smashed swede, and to top it all off lashings of gravy as normal.

I cooked enough so there would be plenty of food left over to make bubble and squeak for the family' s Monday evening meal, and while I prepared the food with the radio on, and a steady supply of strong English cider in hand, I took the occasional glance through the rain lashed windows and thanked God that all we have to moan about in my part of the world is the changeable weather.

Regards

Mark