Crossing the Bar

All night I have been tossed in this fearful storm. Dying unlawfully, me and my kind blacken and boil the seas, can quiet it at other times. With four stiffening fingers I am fighting the waves … It is so cold in the December sea that I have not much strength left to reach the shore … I went there last night, purpose steering a true course in my heart and my soul aflame, knowing that he would kill me and how it would be done … 

So begins my first novel, Crossing the Bar, a dark tale about two 30-something best friends from London who fight to save an English seaside town from an evil property developer. Along the way, they’re helped by a dismembered hand, a swearing septuagenarian, a horny Frenchman and a talking sheep … Meanwhile, as I finish the novel, I’m aided by copious mugs of green tea, Hi-Tecpoint red pens, and a phial of tears labelled ‘Aargh!’.