Sitting in coffee shops awaiting the dreaded office, yearning for escape forced me to write it.

As for the niche? Well, what can I say other than I guess coffee, along with people watching is what we all enjoy. I see hundreds a day doing just in my small corner of society. Everyday people stare blankly into their latte’s thinking, “What’s he doing with her?” or “She’s a bit fat for those jeans.”

Any uniqueness is hopefully within the prose, as it was written continuously in lengthy sessions, without revision, it has maintained a flow. The plot is twisty and the characters semi-autobiographical and various references to the beats give it an underlying, interesting edge.

The novel’s central theme is the complex relationship between a young couple, Shuna and Elliot Symonds: other characters include their gay friend, Clarence, outrageously camp yet tormented by insecurity: also the painter, Jo, insular, dedicated and cynical of human relationships. Though set in London and the Welsh Hills this is definitely not an Aga-saga. Sad, but not without humour, it addresses the dilemma of commitment to family life as opposed to the selfishness of creative fulfilment – of infidelity and the pain of betrayal and how one person’s dreams and ambitions are often abandoned or put on hold in favour of another’s freedom to pursue theirs.

Picture the scene, its 1972 in England’s ‘second city’.   The social system is bursting with unwanted children, new developments in the medical field means babies for adoption are a rarity, nay a delicacy to be gobbled up by those who make the best offer.  Cracks are appearing in the structures holding back those poor unfortunates deemed too old to be cute. Sweat pours from the seams of overburdened institutions, but the plaster will hold for another decade or two.  Eventually, however, the rubble will land at the feet of humans so rancid that you will smell the stench for a lifetime.  This has no apparent bearing on my tale but pray, hold that thought.