I know. I know. I have made minimal progress at all with learning Greek or with the novel based out in Greece so why start a third project? Well I shall make progress on both of my major tasks this summer as I take six months away from full time writing to work on a building site, that is to say the Greek Hovel. So before I get Alzheimers...
Prompted by my jottings on the brutal world of Warwick School in 1977, a friend suggests that, while I can still remember my earlier years growing up on a self sufficient farm in rural Northamptonshire, I should start jotting down some tales from that time.
We lived in a village called Byfield until a year after the death of my mother. And at the centre of my life then was our field, the field. Most things of importance that I remember were linked to it in some way.
It was a very different world then. The second war was much closer, many villagers had been combatants and not all on our side. Transport links were bad enough that we were very much in the Countryside and cut off from urban sophistication. There was the world of self sufficiency and strange guest who came to stay. Most folks who feature in The Field are dead now. So I see no reason not to be candid.
And so I plan to start jotting down those memories here, one by one, until I can remember no more. If no-one else reads it will offer a link to Joshua to a world and people he will never know.