Hi there. Here I am sat on the bank of the Basingstoke canal near the lovely village of Greywell - A splendid walk if you're ever down in this neck of the woods. The colourful assortment of children gently warming my feet are: (from left to right) Harry, Daniel, Anna and Thomas. Harry and Thomas are my two sons while Daniel and Anna are their cousins.
Anyway, to return to myself, following an all to brief stage career - perhaps you caught my performance as 'Klein', a rather laconic, hard-bitten New York Cop in Arsenic and Old Lace at Basingstoke's Haymarket Theatre? For the role I submerged myself in of the work of Efrem Zimbalist, Jr and Raymond Burr to adopt the correct timbre and enunciation for my two spoken lines but for reasons that escape me the dammed media seem to have been rather more taken with the stumbling comportment of the leading players to fully appreciate my work so the whole episode is rather by the by.
Moving on I worked for several years in the glamour and excitement that was AWRE Aldermaston. I was involved in some very hush-hush stuff, but I'm afraid I can't talk about it. Unable to cope with the all encompassing secrecy and near terminal boredom I found a yearning for the bright lights and took off for the teeming metropolis.
Following a brief spell in a souvenir shop where rather less honourable assistants would smilingly accept a £20 note from Japanese tourists for a single can of coke without troubling them with the change and where gaudily clad Americans would ask the way to Charing Ex (it is after all clearly marked on the map) I moved on to the Great British Institution which was Travellers Fare, the elite front-line catering division of British Rail. After majoring in sandwich preparation and sausage rolls, I served the rich and famous alongside the alcoholic and near destitute at London's magnificent Euston station where I marvelled at the subtle difference between 1000 football fans (batten down the hatches and issue all staff with AK47 assault rifles) and 1000 rugby fans (order another dozen tankers of draught bitter, several dozen lorry loads of carry-outs and all the pork scratchings you can render).
I was switched through most of the major London termini over a period of several years, during which a fulsome diet of TF food gradually transmogrified me through a gamut of positions until eventually I was re-shuffled in the direction of materials control and stock management - a department where my skills and capabilities were held to be finest. It was here, having reached the highest echelon's of the company that I stumbled; rather less sure of my capabilities than my mentors. I decided it was time to move on and I returned to my Basingstoke roots.
Despite my reservations, I found my credentials held good and a distinguished career in materials management ensued. I meandered through several roles in several companies but always knew in my heart of hearts that despite my success and achievements, I was in the wrong job!
Writing was the key, an area where the personal computer was magically able to transform my previously illegible scrawlings into nice neat writing. I found that now that they could read it, people seemed to like what I wrote almost as much as I enjoyed writing it and now, many published articles later, I find myself a happy, contented freelance writer.
If having read this, you have a subject that needs writing about that you think I may be able to help you with, please drop me a line at firstname.lastname@example.org