Ad Break

I’m currently in Ireland so when I return I will give you lots of Irish restaurant and hotel reviews. In the mean time you may be interested in a book I have written. Here’s an advert that may just entice you. Well, if you like my style of writing it might ūüėČ

It’s an e-book available on Amazon to download to your¬†kindle, ipad, iphone, laptop or pc.¬†The Same Individuals

It’s called The Same Individuals.¬†Basically it is a novel that pops briefly into the lives of 6 residents of Dunfermline, Fife that have all been affected by drugs in some way. As the different individuals retrace their lives through memories and explore their behaviour patterns in the normally secret and confidential world of the counselling room, readers are given the opportunity to change the already formed opinions they may have of ‚Äėjunkies‚Äô or people who take drugs.
Throughout the book there is a positive message that with help, change is possible. At the same time however, it offers some understanding as to why, for some, it can be so hard to change and escape the drug using world

It’s had some good reviews¬†– look, see for yourself and I didn’t even need to bribe anyone!

This is a compelling book, featuring three-dimensional characters who engaged¬†this reader. For me this is a crucial factor in whether I finish or ‘get’ a¬†book. Their lives are cleverly inter-linked, each with their own stories. The¬†writer has taken a subject matter which is often given a bleak treatment, and¬†offered the prospect of recovery and redemption for the key players. A gentle
wisdom shines from this book, from which I learned something and was sorry when¬†it finished.”

The title of this review was Welsh with Compassion. Check me out being compared to Irvine! (I won’t mention that when I first read it I thought you just can’t compare Scottish writing¬†with the¬†Welsh ;p)

“I bought this to read during a snowbound flight back from Edinburgh, this is by¬†a new author who captures the world of addicts beautifully, not in the sometimes¬†prurient way of welsh, but with all the same observational brilliance, bringing
in a thread of redemption so often missing from books covering the vices of¬†life.”

“The prose is energetic, contemporary and easy reading – as an¬†exiled Scot it’s also delightfully peppered with local hints and aspects of home¬†often in surprisingly humerous ways. The characterisations are strangely¬†affectionate betraying, I suspect, a deep understanding of the subject matter by¬†the author.”

“This would be ripe to turn into a play, or television¬†adaptation. I hope it will get there…”

I won’t bore you with anymore reviews because they’re on the page if you want to read more.

However, I will share the first chapter with you ūüėČ


Chapter One

Lawrence looked in the mirror and took note of the new red blemish that had broken out on his forehead. He felt rougher than usual that morning and his stomach was a little queasy. Absentmindedly he wiped at the pimple with his thumb in the hope that he could simply rub it out. His skin had been erupting more and more recently, burning the candle at both ends was not always as good a thing as it seemed. Running his hand along his chin and only feeling a slight roughness, he decided that he could probably get away with giving shaving a miss that morning. He then stuck his tongue out at the mirror and tried to remember if it had always had a greyish coating or if this was a new addition to his mouth.
Lawrence mussed up his curly brown hair, trying to give it some height; it was neither too short nor too long and was probably his best feature. Looking admiringly into the mirror he thought, on the surface, he looked pretty damn good, give or take a spot or two. Lawrence then picked up his toothbrush and with the other hand forced out a long snake of paste on to it from a tube of Colgate. As soon as he put the toothbrush into his mouth to start brushing, he gagged involuntarily and felt his stomach lurch. His mouth filled with saliva and he knew he was going to be sick. As he bent over the sink to spit out the excess saliva, he retched and threw up his stomach contents. Once more his stomach churned but nothing else was forthcoming, although his body kept trying to get rid of the poison it had been fed the night before. Lawrence felt as if his head was going to explode from the pressure of dry retching. He was unable to breathe and his eyes protruded madly from his face as he clung on to the white porcelain and endured the convulsions that racked his body.  Eventually he was able to straighten up and look back into the mirror. His eyes were watering and there was drool clinging to his chin. Lawrence turned on the tap and splashed water over his face. His head was pounding now with the act of being sick and he feared that there was yet more to come. Giving up on brushing his teeth, he wandered through to the living room and slumped on to the couch.
Trying to remember the night before, Lawrence attempted to work out if it had been worth it or not. He then smiled as the memories of a twenty-something flitted across his mind. Long blonde hair feathering across his chest as the young women expertly used her mouth to lick, nibble and suck. Then, her hands, complete with gold painted nails, grabbing at the pillows as her back arched, pushing her tight ass further towards him. He had taken great pleasure in watching himself thrusting into her from behind. The memories were punctuated with the two of them taking lines of coke at every opportunity. At one point he had demand that the girl be his table so he could snort a line from her navel downwards. Oh yes, it had been worth it all right.
He thought her name was Melanie and she had been at the party with her sister, but then where she had appeared from did not really matter to him, or if he would ever see her again. There were always other Melanies, or Cheryls or Susies to be had. After all, life was just one big party and Lawrence was the party king.
Lawrence decided that work was not worth thinking about at the moment. He still had time before he had to put further effort into brushing his teeth and making it into the office. Flexi-time was Lawrence’s great saviour. Without it there was a good chance that he would have been sacked by now. Too many late nights and no-shows on Monday mornings would have earned him his P45 with any other employer, but Lawrence actually gained from working into the early evening because he could go out straight from work and avoid a double commute. It was a situation that appeared to work well for him. As long as Lawrence managed to reduce the pile in his in-tray, answer all his emails and keep up to date with what was happening in the world of IT, he succeeded in working to live instead of vice versa.
Deciding he needed a little pick-me-up, Lawrence stood up slowly from the settee and, with a pneumatic drill piercing his head, walked over to his bookshelf. Instead of picking up some paracetamol he chose instead the Old English Testament from the second shelf. He flicked it open to reveal that the book contained a cut out section. The doctored book had required a Stanley knife, a lot of patience and an entire Saturday afternoon. For Lawrence it had been a labour of love, a labour that no one else knew about.  The bible was where he hid his personal stash of coke, which he kept separate from his other stockpile Рthe one he kept for friends and other good paying customers. This was the only kind of painkiller that Lawrence was interested in at that precise moment.
Lawrence lifted a nearby tray, something he had proudly christened his own personal lap-dancer and emptied out a small amount of white powder on to it. Taking his time, he carefully prepared two lines. The methodical chopping noise from the silver-plated razor blade, a gift from some forgotten female, made his body tingle with anticipation. He loved trying to get both lines as straight and as equal as possible and deliberately made himself keep dividing and chopping until he was completely satisfied with their symmetry.  Only now did he let himself lift the matching silver tooter and snort one line of coke up each nostril. With a large sniff he relaxed back into the settee and let his head roll back. The drug surged through his body and he sat still, simply allowing the rush to lift him.
With his heart pumping, and at last feeling vitalised and ready to face the world, Lawrence wandered back through to the bedroom and rifled through his wardrobe looking for a shirt to wear to work.

If you want to find out what happens to Lawrence next Рclick the link, download the book and read all about it

and thanks for reading this far ūüôā xx

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