
No reality as we slide into 2024…







No reality as we slide into 2024…






The traditional last Thursday of the year when nothing much happens between Christmas and New Year…


New friends and games







Back to the beach…

2024 is on the horizon…
Are you looking forward to 2024?











WHAT A DIFFERENCE A DAY MAKES







CONTINUING THE VARIED SELECTION OF CHRISTMAS MUSIC










What’s the body count now?
476
That’s dreadful.
That is over a decade…
But a tiny harbourside seaside town would surely only expect to have one or two murders in a decade?
I agree, in fact the tiny seaside town where we film has had no real murders in the past decade.
Precisely.
But that’s because they have had no crime at all since we started filming; the locals are paranoid they might be accidentally filmed dropping litter or parking on a double yellow line, let alone burglary or murder.

I may be going out on a limb here, but how about for the next series we don’t have any murders?
What would we have for a story line? How would we compete with Scandi Noir and cold cases in hot Australian country towns?
Gentle stories about real life, fishing trips and trips to the food bank, battles to keep the village school open.
That sounds boring, viewers expect some deaths.
I have a brainwave. Deaths that appear to be murder, but turn out to be natural causes. Woman found poisoned, new police constable notes her flat is filled with plants and recalls how his aunt always uses fresh water for her tea and waters her plants with the old water in the kettle. He ponders what if one or more of the plants is poisonous, the kettle touches the leaves and the poison is transferred to her tea, perhaps gradual build up. CID take no notice of him and this is where the drama comes in. He has to go out on a limb, photographing every plant, Googling them…
They, could be a female officer.
Okay, they, even though its only one officer…they get in touch with Kew Gardens and persuade them to send an expert who discovers a rare South American jungle plant next to the television set.
Or in the bathroom, it would like steamy conditions. But is that going to take six episodes?
Rich old lady found at the bottom of the stairs with a broken neck, who pushed her? My mother says most accidents on stairs are caused by remembering you have forgotten something and turning suddenly, half way up or down.
Hm, at least that’s quite violent.
Young farmer found with throat slashed in the barn; turns out he tripped over a free range hen and in a freak accident the abattoir knife they use to dispatch the outdoor reared pigs for their farm shop, slashes his throat. No cctv, everyone is blamed and the family torn apart, before a clever pathologist on holiday proves the truth.
Which was difficult because the pigs had already half eaten him…
No, No we don’t want too much gore.

Sorry, sorry, this is not going to work, especially as the BBC wants to axe us, production costs too high.
We can’t stop, it would ruin lives. Half the cast have bought holiday homes, or moved there permanently, got pigs and chickens and boats. And the locals would be devastated, they depend on our six months filming for business.
Hang on, I thought we had ruined their lives, causing property prices to rocket with everyone wanting to live there or have holiday homes. No chance for the young locals.
That’s why we pay the mortgages and rent for half the villagers, we need them as realistic extras.
No wonder production costs are so high, but it would cause an outcry. The public are looking forward to series eleven and the 2024 Christmas Special. We need to think of a really good plot, spy submarine in the harbour sinks a fishing boat with three generations on board…
It is only a tiny harbour… but perhaps further out at sea and then the submarine fires torpedoes at the lifeboat… yes, I think we can do it.
And for today’s cheerful tune, wouldn’t all writers like to write this fast?


It’s important to have a good author profile picture

Today was wet and miserable so I took some wet and miserable photos…

You could pretend you are on a tropical island…

Or fly away…

…or take the train.

Winter Wonderlands are best enjoyed at night


Dare you try the ride?
Today’s cheerful tune.














Where nothing happens.







Mike was the last person I wanted to talk to on this amazing day. I was just about to quietly explain to Stewart that he must be witness to what I was about to do, when Mike from our cycling club came bowling over with his inane chatter. Stewart was the only person who knew that The Portal on the beach was not just an art installation. Now my watch was telling me that the portal alignment was reaching the optimum moment again.

I had messed up the first time, but a scientist learns from his mistakes and keeps trying. Taking a step forward I had felt a force I can’t describe, saw a break in reality… or did I see anything? Flustered, I would not use the word panic, I had instinctively closed my eyes and stepped back.

This time I must do it, there might not be another chance, the portal was only granted a few days as part of the arts festival, then it must come down. I could not let all my work and research be wasted. Nobody would notice me as they wandered around the portal, taking photos of themselves in the reflections, touching the shiny surface to feel the vibrations. I strode forward.

It hadn’t worked, I was still standing on the beach looking at the sea, the portal behind me. Then I saw myself walking towards me.
The other me spoke, or had I read his thoughts?
‘I’ve done it, brought myself from a parallel universe.’
Simultaneously we reached out to touch each other, then we both recoiled, speaking at the same moment…
‘I’m not sure if… we must be careful…
I was expecting to go over to your world as you arrived.
I expected you to go over as I arrived.
Surely we can’t both exist in the same place.’
I motioned to him to be silent.
‘But we have proved that parallel universes exist, what I see around me is exactly what I left behind, you are even wearing exactly the same clothes.’
‘Are you Doctor Benjamin Gower?’ we spoke together again.
‘All these people on the beach have not noticed a thing, if they looked at us they would probably assume we were identical twins.’
We both laughed. ‘I’m an only child, I always wanted a brother.’
For a moment I felt as if we were naughty school boys doing an experiment that would not be approved of. I decided to remain silent, giving the other Ben a chance to relate his story.
‘I wanted Stewart to observe what happened, but that awful Mike turned up and started talking, once he starts he never stops.’
I twisted round to look back through the portal and sure enough there was Mike jabbering away to Stewart, gesticulating as if he was working his new bicycle gears. What could be better proof that an alternate universe would be exactly the same, in how many universes was boring Mike replicated?














