A small part of his Chapter One to a novel entitled – Lands End, follows.

It had been three and a half years since the day we had first met: she was sitting, a perfect stranger, next to my flat mate, Charles. They were teasing and smiling at each other the way entranced strangers often do in bars and nightclubs just before they make for the door and an evening of passion and desire unleashed. I had come home from the U to find a gaggle of newly formed friends lounging in the living room of our three-bedroom flat, not uncommon at the time, we were used to having a house full of both friends and strangers. It made little difference to either of us.

I dropped my pack of this evening’s not-to-be-done homework at the living room door and wandered into the kitchen to grab a beer from the tap of home-brew amber. The room was a mess – Just another happy day in paradise, I had thought with an annoyed sense frustration. There wasn’t a clean glass to be found. “_____ pigs, just once I wish they would clean this ____ up. At least clean the __________ glasses. Is it really that hard to pick up a washcloth and turn on the ________ water?” I turned the hot water faucet to about half, dumped in some Palmolive and picked up the soiled cloth neatly folded on the windowsill. “It’s always what you’re fucking looking for that ends up being dirty. _____!” I took a deep breath and let it out hoping to release some of the frustrations in a more positive light. I dropped my head toward the sink full of grease-smeared table settings and shook my head then closed my eyes for a moment’s peace of mind. I opened them feeling a bit more in control and reached into the sink. I grabbed for the first pint-glass I saw and brought it up for closer examination. “Old Iron Horse, perfect choice.”

“Need some help?”

“Wha..?”

“I said, Would you like a hand? Seems like you guys could use a bit of French help around here. What a mess.”

I had turned around, water running, foaming glass in my hand, and a scowl, marked with embarrassment, on my face, to find her standing there, empty glass in hand, smiling at me. “Oh—hi. Sorry about that. Sometimes I find myself saying things I should really keep under lock and key in the depths my ID.” You been there long? But I knew better than ask the question, she had been there plenty long and had seen and heard more than enough.