During twelve weeks to early June 2020, I penned this story, tapping away about four hours per session, most days, a lockdown hobby, if you like.

It starts in May 2021 and follows a particular day in the life of Malcolm Fraser-Scott.

The story then carries forward to reveal the consequences of his life and those around him as lockdown continues.

I have experimented with a first person style of writing and ask you to persist until it becomes familiar.

The story is offered UNEDITED and thus the errors of grammar, spelling and logic leaps are entirely down to me. I have left line numbers visible, should you wish to offer corrections or comments.

This decision to publish unedited was taken for two reasons.

Firstly, this particular lockdown story with it forward looking time frames will have a limited shelf life, I hope!

Secondly, I am certain sure my Editor, my dear friend Kareth, would reject outright some of the darker sexual encounters described. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. Skip past them if they offend.

So, with these caveats, I offer you this novella. At around 44,000 words, it is a longer read.

This is a gentle, old-fashioned love story told in a rather gushing style.

It should take about 30 minutes to read.

Go on, dive in!

This is a blog/diary piece was written in January 2018.

Some many months ago I had difficulties with www.thebuzzinbee.co.uk website and without me noticing this piece dropped out of the listings.

It covers our weekend in Edinburgh to celebrate Margaret’s Big Birthday.

I hope it may spark memories and act as a record of thanks for a lovely, lazy luxurious a and tasty weekend in Edinburgh, one of our most favourite places.

This little tale has been lurking in the back of my mind for years. It is based on a family story told many times by my father, Jack, who did indeed cycle out to far flung building sites, in all weathers, his yellow cape and sou’wester his only protection against rain, sleet and snow, often returning home frozen to the bone.

At that time, building trade workers were paid ‘travelling time and expenses’ and, with ‘overtime’ at ‘time and a half’ for weekday evenings and ‘double time’ on weekend days, every extra penny was welcome in our single end at 84 Greenview Street, in Pollokshaws.

(To read a bit more from this period, before the re-development of Pollokshaws under the slum clearance programme, try searching on this website for ‘The Go Between’.)

When Writers’ Circus set a challenge to write on the topic of ‘rubbish’, I decided to try to write it down. Yes, the link is tangential but it was the best I could muster.

The title of this piece?

My Mum was a tea drinker, Betty the Tea Jenny. Like Granny Bremner, Mum was teetotal all her life. Her tipple was American Cream Soda.

So, read on, delve back into the past. Nostalgia never dies.

Many thanks again to Kareth my Editor, who hoes tirelessly through my output of drivel to correct all sorts of spelling, logic and grammar errors and meticulously ensures necessary ‘commas’ are added while battling to eliminate my penchant for the spurious ‘that’ word!

At our Writers’ Circus group the ‘chair’ rotates and the incoming ‘chair’ sets the topic

for the following monthly meeting.

The topic set was : “an unexpected encounter”.

This provided an opportunity to weave fantasy with fiction and get down snippet tales many

of my fishing, golfing and singing buddies will have heard, perhaps more than once?

The final scenario, a walk in the park on a snowy winter’s afternoon with a friend’s dog

did happen and I was in real danger, a near death experience which, I suppose, leads us to

the opening scene.