Bryan Pentelow's Blog

A Sprocket Seasonal Short



Christmas at Pudding Founders Lane.

Brassroyd emerged from the door of the Furnace Raddlers Arms and pulled his flat cap more firmly down to his ears. A wicked wind was coming off the high fells and a group of red nosed children were chasing a sheet of newspaper which danced along the street. He turned towards the center of Batherby Bridge and set off at a brisk pace, the hobnails in the heels and soles of his best boots striking sparks off the cobbles. As he entered the square Batherby Brass struck up with ‘The First Noel’. It was the day of the carol concert and the band were formed up on the steps leading up to the grand portico of the town hall’s Victorian frontage. A good crowd had gathered and were joining in by singing along. Brassroyd glanced up at the roof lines of the buildings surrounding the square and noticed more than the usual number of gargoyles decorating the gutters. The Scrap dragons were out in force. There was nothing they liked better than music with plenty of metal in it and the town blowers were providing a grand show. He hunched his shoulders and pulled up the collar of his heavy tweed overcoat. He made his way around the throng and headed for Harold Ramsbottom, Family Butcher, and heard in his mind his friend Pongo Feather saying “Butchering families since Tudor times” then chuckling so much it made him cough.
The bell over the shop door gave its usual off-key clang which was an achievement as it was the only bell but still managed to be out of tune with itself.
“After noon Harold, Is me order ready?”
The jolly red-faced man in his blood stained, blue and white striped apron grinned and rubbed his fat-fingered hands together then turned and bawled through the doorway to the back of the shop.
“Bring Mr Brassroyd’s order up our Claude and be quick about it!”
There was the slap of flat feet and the assistant appeared, weighed down with a large goose and an over-stuffed plastic carrier bag which was doing its best to cut off the circulation to the lad’s fingers. He was the exact opposite of the burly butcher. Tall, stick thin and stooped with a pronounced Adam’s apple his lack of physique was topped off with a sunken-cheeked face populated with a fine collection of spots and a hair cut which had about the same amount of hairs as the butchers moustache but worn horizontally on top of his head as opposed to vertically on his top lip. Going cross eyed with the effort he managed to lift the order onto the polished steel counter top then staggered off into the back of the premises wheezing horribly.
“Hardly an asset to the business that one but he’s family so I’m stuck with him. Now, one goose plucked drawn and oven ready, one large ham cooked and ready to carve, two pounds of best thin sausages, and a pound of streaky bacon. Oh, and I’ll have half a pound of kidneys, and a black pudding.” Harold bent with effort and rummaged under the counter then came out with yet another well-filled bag. “Mustn’t forget the bones for the dogs and a nice lump of suet for them crows.”
Brassroyd took out his wallet and prized some notes from its reluctant grip and handed them over to the beaming proprietor who thrust them into the till before the image of the Queen could even blink in the unaccustomed daylight. Reluctantly he handed back a small assortment of loose change which Brassroyd trousered equally rapidly.
“Thank thee Ramsbottom have a good en.” and with that, he left the shop clutching his purchases.
As he turned down Pudding Founders Lane he was hailed from the canal tow path at the other end and moments later was mobbed by two young bull terriers a small Scrap dragon and a smiling blond girl. He made his way to the front door of number 7 as the newcomers jumped and skipped round him as he fumbled in his coat for the large iron key.
Once inside and past his old black bicycle in the hall he dumped the bags on the scrubbed pine table.
“Put the kettle on Ava. I need a big mug of hot strong tea and I’m sure you wouldn’t say no to some fruit cake. His grandniece took the lid of the black iron kettle and holding it under the spout of the pump over the sink cranked the handle to raise water from the house well. Brassroyd brushed the two young dogs aside from their attempts to climb onto the table to investigate the tempting smell of bones coming from one of the bags. They would have bounced straight back up but for a rumbling growl from the basket in the corner by the kitchen range. Mrs Mumbly had been roused from her after lunch snooze. Ava went over to her and scratched the old dog behind her ears as she stretched the knots from her muscles and the clicks from her spine. She rewarded the girl with a lick from her long tongue and squinted her pink eyes with pleasure as the ear scratching continued. Brassroyd lifted the smallest of the three brown teapots down from the dresser and placed it on the draining board between the range and the sink. Ava carefully lifted the now steaming kettle from the big hotplate and poured a smack amount of hot water into the teapot then replaced the kettle to come to a full boil while she swilled the water round the teapot to warm it then emptied it into the sink then dropped two heaped teaspoons of loose tea into it. The kettle boiled and she filled the teapot then stirred the contents gently, replaced the lid and left it to brew. She got two white enamel mugs from the dresser and set them on the table and placing the cosy over the teapot moved it to stand on the circular, woven rush mat beside them. Her granduncle got the milk jug from the fridge, the tea strainer and the sugar bowl and set them with the rest. He then lifted down the cake tin and got a large wedge of Wensleydale cheese and the butter dish, so with the addition of two plates, two butter knives and a big knife to cut the cake and preparations were complete.
Sprocket, who had gone out through the dragon flap into the yard, returned with a short length of rusty angle iron and settled down by the range to munch contentedly while the dogs gathered under the table to pounce on any pieces of cake which might be dropped. The two humans took their places and Ava poured the tea then added milk, and one sugar cube for her and three for Brassroyd while he cut two slices of the rich solid fruit cake they both loved.
For a while there was silence but for the sound of chewing and the occasional slurp of a tongue as a morsel of cake was passed under the table and a steady stream of snaps and plinks as the dragon cut up his snack.
“Are you ready for Christmas lass? Mind you with a birthday last week I should think there’s no room for more presents at your house.”
I’m looking forward to Boxing Day most of all when we all go through to Dragon World for the Winter Feast, but yes I am ready for Christmas. I bought the last present I had to get two weeks ago and finished wrapping them and putting labels on them last night so I’m all ready for when the cousins arrive at tea time.”
“Aye it’ll be quite some do and it was nice of your mum and dad to ask me and Pongo and Dave and Hester to join in tomorrow, and we’ll all be together again the next day to go through the portal. Pongo was saying that this is the first time since we met the dragons that Christmas and Winter Feast have come together. Yes, it’ll quite some party. Reg has been mass producing all sorts of dragon food for at least two weeks and sending his van to the pit head lift at least five times a day with a full load including on weekends. It will be more dragons than we have ever seen in one place ever before.”
Ava was just reaching for another piece of cheese when the phone rang and Brassroyd picked it up.
“Right Lass.” was all he said and put out his hand and moved the cheese dish out of reach. “No more. Finish your tea. That was your mum, and she said to get home to get showered and changed ready, and that there’d be trouble if you were so full of cake you couldn’t eat the meal she’d prepared for when the cousins get here. So scram and get ready.”
Ava gulped the last mouthful of tea and slipping on her coat wished him goodbye and thanks as she scampered out the kitchen door closely followed by her dog Cupcake.
She ran along the magical garden path which sparkled with tiny white lights draped among the branches of the trees and bushes. These had been placed by Blaggard and his family who had taken them from a box supplied by the Scrap dragons and carefully distributed them to give the garden a frosty twinkle from dusk till dawn. Her breath clouded in the cold air as she spring healed along the twisting path and she called and waved to Blaggard’s daughter Faithless as she passed the Crow House on the large sycamore tree halfway along the path. The young crow fluttered her wings and cawed an answer as the girl sped past.
Ava barely had time to hang up her coat, kick off her boots and rush to the bathroom to shower then to throw on a clean dress before the light above the toy cupboard door began to flash signalling the imminent arrival of the cousins and their parents.
With the arrival of the visitors, mild pandemonium broke loose. Two young bull terriers chased each other from room to room while the children placed the bags of presents under the tree then scrabbled through them to see how many each had. Quantities, sizes and weights were compared and speculation ran riot as to what each parcel contained. Eventually, a halt was called to the feverish guesswork with the announcement that food was served and everyone moved in an almost orderly fashion through to the long, decorated table in the dining room. After a chair swapping interlude till the Fearsome Four were satisfied with who sat next to whom plates and dishes were passed around so that everyone had plenty of their favourite food in front of them. There followed an interval of almost no noise as sandwiches, quiches, cooked meats, salads, small pies and pasties were disposed of with varying degrees of table manners and the two young dogs patrolled the perimeter of the gathering gobbling up any accidental spillage or overflow.
It took quite a time to settle the Fearsome Four into their beds and even longer for the giggling and whispered conversations to die down. Finally, the excitement of the day and sheer exhaustion won the day and when Neil looked in later all were sleeping soundly.
On Dragon World preparations for the Winter Festival were moving toward a climax. Lines of Foresters brought piles of logs and branches to form the ring of huge bonfires in the newly dug pits surrounding the campsite at the foot of the cliff where the portal from Human World emerged. From the banks of the river where the Milk Palms grew in abundance pairs of dinosaurs pulled carts stacked high with all the various cheeses which were their speciality. Even Humans were involved as load after load of the hyper spicy pastries which the dragons adored were brought through the portal from Balmforth’s Raster Bakery in Batherby Bridge. Reg and his staff and the oven dragons had been working flat out for the last two weeks to produce the mountains of food needed to feed all the dragons who would be visiting. In deep caves in the cliff, Ice dragons were stacking large blocks of ice to help keep the fruit flavoured Freeze Ball ices and Cream Slushies from melting before the celebrations started. Everything had to be ready before the Brass Band and Carol concert in Batherby Bridge Town Hall on Christmas Day morning as most of the dragons wanted to listen to all that music with metal in it. Long into the night, they worked but as the stars started to twinkle order was winning over chaos and only the finishing touches needed to be done and those would be for the Ice Dragons early on Boxing Day.
In 7A Pudding Founders Lane the silent night ended at half past five am. First there was a rustling of bedding and a clicking of torch switches, then a whispering which grew in volume as bulging pillow cases were found at the foot of each bed. By the time bleary-eyed parents had given up any idea of blocking out the excitement with pillows over their heads Christmas was in full swing. All four children had assembled in Ava’s bedroom which now looked like an explosion in a wrapping paper factory. Breakfast was a moveable feast despite the best efforts of Louise and Jill to get their offspring to sit at the kitchen table and eat like civilised humans. The Pups had a field day with scattered remnants of bacon sandwiches, buttered croissants and toast fragments with jam or marmite on them. At 7 Pudding Founders lane things were less frenetic. Brassroyd was up at six as usual and with the help of Sprocket, Mrs Mumbly and Churchill had taken bowls of mixed nuts and berries, wriggling maggots and meal worms and a plate of suitably decayed scraps to the crow house for Blaggard and Family. On their return he had fired up the Pickersgill and Hains black iron and polished brass range and proceeded to cook a proper full English breakfast. Bacon, black pudding, kidneys, sausages, eggs, fried bread and sliced up large field mushrooms all jostled for space in the confines of the black cast iron frying pan from which came mouth-watering aromas and sizzling to gladden any dog’s ear. Sprocket’s bowl, which was made of good solid earthenware to prevent him eating it along with the contents, was full to the brim with tasty blue lathe turnings liberally scattered with nuts, metric and imperial and finished with a large glug of vintage sump oil. Their meal wasn’t silent. Scrap dragons are tidy eaters but you can’t wolf down several kilos of scrap without some snapping and grinding. Likewise, it is impossible to really enjoy golden crisp fried bread and extra hard dog biscuits without a lot of crunching and lip smacking. But the contentment of those present was palpable.
A knock on the front door interrupted Brassroyd’s second mug of strong tea and announced the arrival of Pongo Feather.
“Is’t tha ready auld lad?” he asked as Churchill and Alfonse chased each other around his legs. “The bands’ll be arriving in less than half an hour so we better get down to the town hall.”
Brassroyd pulled on his best tweed overcoat and tied his muffler around his neck then picked up a bag containing a clean collar for his shirt and his one and only tie whistled the dogs to join him and exited the door locking it with the large, heavy key. Sprocket now alone in the kitchen tidied the table by eating the enamelled tin mug and plate but hesitated at the teaspoon as it was one of the good ones. He then flashed the table top with steam and hopped over to the frying pan on the range. This he blasted with a fierce blue fire which vaporised any remnants of the cooking and left the utensil totally sterilised. The housework done, he left through the dragon flap in the kitchen door and took off for the dragon loft above the stage at the Town Hall.
A Seeker Dragon was waiting for them when they arrived in the concert hall attached to the Town Hall. It beckoned for them to follow it through a new door by the one to the large changing room. Instead of entering the familiar room they found themselves standing in a band practice room they had never been in before. It was deserted.
“I thought you said they would be here?” Said Brassroyd as Pongo walked over to a window and looked out of it.
“It’s all right they are all outside with their instruments, obviously waiting for the bus to arrive.”
“Well don’t hang about get them in and through the portal or they won’t have time to sort themselves out the other end.”
Brassroyd quickly shooed the small Seeker back through the portal then stood by the now open door in what had been a blank wall. Pongo opened the main door and called the band inside directing them to follow his friend. Brassroyd waved to them and stepped through the portal doorway. As each band member emerged from the portal they were directed to the changing room where tea and biscuits were waiting for them. By the time Pongo, Brassroyd and the last player entered the band members were all polishing their instruments, drinking tea, or staring round a bit bemused.
“That was a neat trick.” said the band master to Pongo.
“Yes. Have you got all your band parts for the concert?” said the retired chemist with a friendly grin and before the bemused man could ask any more questions called “Follow me.” and lead the way down to the stage and proceeded to get everyone in their places.
“This is our band master Stan Farnsworth.” said Pongo introducing the leader of Batherby Brass. “He will sort out any problems you may have.”
There was much grumbling at 7A Pudding Founders Lane as the Fearsome Four had been told they could not open the rest of their presents till after lunch and to go and get washed and dressed ready for the Band and Carol concert. After many shouted instructions up and down the stair well and complaints about the clothing which had been laid out for them they all paraded for a final inspection prior to setting out for the Town Hall. The group of four adults, four children and two young Bull Terriers set off at a brisk walk their breath misting the crisp frosty air. It didn’t take long but by the time they reached the large doors at the top of the wide stone steps leading to the concert hall they all had rosy cheeks and were glad of their gloves and scarves. A young girl in a smart skirt and scarlet waistcoat showed them up the stairs to a family box and they found their seats while the dogs sat on a raised platform to one side.
“Are Sprocket and the crows here?” asked Kate.
“Yes, they’re up in the dragon loft.” Neil told her as he passed round the programmes which included the words to all the carols. At that point, applause broke as the two bands filed onto the stage and took their places. Pongo, who was acting as master of ceremonies stepped up to the microphone and the buzz of conversation died down.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, boys and girls, it gives me great pleasure to introduce to you our visiting band. They hail from a town well to the South of us but have a long and illustrious history in the brass band world. Once a brass band, then a temperance band and now a silver band, please give a warm High Fells welcome to the members of Raunds Town Silver Band.”
The cheers and clapping were thunderous which, was a good job because it covered the enthusiastic hoots and whistles from the dragon loft above the stage. Having risen and bowed to the audience the musicians took their seats and picked up their instruments.
“Our visitors will open the concert with a piece dedicated to their home industry Bob Barratt’s ‘The March of the Cobblers’.”
Time flew by as famous marches were followed by well-known carols with the audience standing and adding their voices to the band’s music. Everyone had a fine time and enjoyed an opportunity for a good sing song. As people left at the end to go home for Christmas dinner the bands made their way to the VIP suite where refreshments had been laid on. It was rather a truncated party as the Raunds band were expected back for an Afternoon concert so had to be escorted back through the portal. Brassroyd and Pongo thanked them profusely and left the still confused musicians in their band room.
Back at 7A Pudding Founders Lane, the kitchen was a blur of activity. The Fearsome Four, Simon and Neil were back and forth setting the long table in the dining room ready for the feast. Louise had just put a whole salmon stuffed with lemon and dill stems then wrapped in foil into the dishwasher to cook on a hot wash while Jill was busy ladling goose fat from the roasted bird over the roast potatoes and coating the ham with honey and studding it with cloves for its final stint in the oven to set the glaze. Bottles of Prosecco were cooling in ice buckets and trays of nibbles were set out on the sideboard in the lounge. At 2 pm all was ready for the guests to arrive and the children were being chased away from the snacks lest there be nothing left when they arrived.
Christmas dinner was a splendid success. For the adults, all the traditional ingredients were there. Roast goose with crisp roast potatoes and parsnip chips, Yorkshire puddings, even sprouts for those who liked them, extra helpings to fill the gaps and plenty of rich gravy. For the children, who had eaten their vegetables on sufferance, there was a choice of lemon cheesecake and chocolate pie. This caused agonising indecision till it was suggested they have a helping of both. This was greeted with smiles all round. The dogs had crunchy biscuits with hard scrapings from around the roasts and a generous portion of gravy with added giblets and crunchy goose skin. The crows were tucking into strings of fat balls with seeds and scraps mixed into the congealed delights. For Sprocket there was an individual Spicy Swede Slice with a large helping of mixed scrap which had been marinated in vintage sump oil for a whole week and finished with a festive sprinkling of washing soda crystal.
Finally, after all the dishes were cleared away, the cheese board was put out and the port was being passed round the children were let loose on the presents under the tree.
Wrapping paper flew in all directions and only by dint of careful collecting of gift tags and note taking by the adults did anyone know who had received what from whom. As the hysteria died down the Fearsome Four became aware of a rather downcast small dragon sitting on a pile of torn paper which he had been gathering up in a corner.
“Where is Sprockets present?” they chorused.
“Follow me.” said Brassroyd, heaving himself out of an armchair and heading for the back door. On a large tin tray in the middle of the garden path was a large object wrapped in aluminium foil and tied up with copper and barbed wire.
“That’s for you lad.” Said Brassroyd and Sprocket scampered over to the parcel and hopped around it taking a beak full of foil here and a snap of wiring there. When the wrapping finally unravelled it revealed a large old truck battery. The Scrap dragon was in ecstasy. The mixed aromas of acid and diesel oil, crunchy plastic casing, plenty of lead plates, all bathed in a tangy vitriol sauce with crumbly gritty decay all around the terminals. The perfect present which would keep his digestive plumbing gurgling and rumbling for weeks and to top it all, or rather to bottom it was the big tongue tingling tin tray. Bliss!
Games were played arguments were settled and what the children referred to as a picky tea was laid out for people to help themselves as they wanted. In the evening Neil ushered Ava and the cousins into the play room and put on a DVD for them to watch. Half an hour later Jill looked in to find four children curled up fast asleep and the television entertaining itself. They were carried upstairs and put to bed with hardly a murmur. Washing and teeth cleaning could wait till morning this once.
Dawn dissolved into a clammy drizzle on Boxing Day Morning and the expressions around the breakfast table were glum.
Neil came in from checking that everything was ready at the pit head for the trip to Dragon World.
“Why so sad?”
“It’s wet.”
“It’s cold.”
“The Winter Festival will be cancelled.”
“We’ll get soaked.”
Came the chorus of gloom .
“Rubbish! Finish your food and go and wash and put your warm things on. It will all be fine.”
As they trudged along the cobbles toward the old pit head yard spirits began to rise with a game of who could make the biggest splash by jumping in puddles. They were joined by friends on the way and by the time they entered the big lift to descend to the portal level the mood was jolly with jokes and laughter. Every formed into pairs and marched towards the large slab of striped rock which became less real as they approached and allowed them to walk straight through into the cave in Dragon World.
The sight that greeted them was a bright, early spring morning. As they walked down the cliff path they could see the tents and tables, the fire pits with their mountain of branches and logs, and the newly grown rings of fir trees. But most of all they could see Dragons. Noble, Scrap, Lifters, Seekers, Diggers, Artisans, large, small and every colour which showed true under the red sun and purple sky. The only type missing were Ice dragons.
“Where are the Ice dragons?” asked Gil, “I thought this was a Winter Festival. You can’t have winter without Ice dragons.”Just then a thought from Golden Friend full of welcome came to them as the huge dragon stepped forward to greet them. Turning to Gil he answered the boy’s question.
“You will have to wait just a little longer but they will come now you have all arrived.”
As his thought faded a hush descended across the throng and the horizon seemed to swell and sparkle. Wider and higher spread the scintillating cloud and the assembled dragons began to hoot and whistle till the very air seemed to vibrate with their calls.
The air born mass rocketed upward then rolling over in a graceful arc, plummeted toward the ground like a diamond tipped javelin. At the last moment, it split into a thousand shards which shot overhead with a scattering of sonic pops and bangs. As the cloud passed a chill ran through the gathering and a white mist slowly drifted down across the area temporarily reducing visibility to a few feet in any direction. Almost immediately a second cloud flashed across the crowd, this one accompanied by a strong, dry wind which cleared the mist and drew a gasp of amazement from dragon and human alike. The entire world seemed to have been coated with icing sugar. Every twig, blade of grass, rock and pebble had been coated in stardust. Their coats, hats and gloves sparkled. Dragon scales glinted with a thousand pastel hues as the creature’s natural colour seeped through. As the mass of dragons began to hoot and whistle even louder and the humans cheered and clapped a group of Blower dragons on the edge of the crowd split up and dashed from pit to pit and ignited the mountains of wood they contained.
Sail sized covers were whisked from tables groaning with the weight of food stacked on them and audience snapped from their trance of wonder and began to mingle and select their choice of the delicacies too numerous to list.
Now there were Ice dragons in the crowd. Sparkling monsters like winged icebergs down to tiny ones more like cut glass hummingbirds. Thoughts of welcome and pleasure ebbed and flowed across the wide site below the cliff as everyone tucked into the overwhelming displays of colours and flavours. No creature alive could have resisted the mouth-watering scents wafting all around the tents. Time flowed smoothly as groups drifted toward the fires to sit and bask in the warm glow from the mountains of glowing embers.
There was a sudden crackling across the sky and dozens of small Scrap and Ice dragons flying almost too fast to see wove intricate aerobatic patterns above the gathering. The ice blue and yellow white fire of their flame ducts tracing shooting stars of light from horizon to zenith and back. As the sun began to set The Noble dragons began to take off one after the other. They climbed higher till they were just specks against the darkening sky finally merging with the spangle of stars now beginning to shine. Suddenly a thunderclap burst across the campsite hitting the cliff and rolling from rock to rock. At the same moment, pyrotechnic flowers blossomed in the air and cheers and hoots went up from those below. No sooner had one bloom faded and the thunder faded across the distant hills than a splintering of explosions heralded a whole garden of coloured light erupting across the darkness. Time and again the sky was split with lightning bolts of colour and the ground and trees shook to the crash of explosions. Ava clung to her dad but when asked if she was frightened shook her head and grinning pointed to the latest starburst. The finale came with a continuous rattle of pops and a circular column of variegated fire began to fall followed by a second larger one around it. A third, fourth, fifth each wider than the last popping and whistling as they cascaded. Not till the first touched the ground did the circles stop coming and by then the sky seemed to be filled with a flight of fiery stairs. With the fading of the last circle, a huge sigh arose followed by cheers and clapping from the humans a manic discordance of piping from all the small and medium sized dragons who had watched the display.
The end had come and tired but happy and certainly well fed the group made their farewells then slowly climbed the path to the portal cave.
What a day, what a Christmas, What a Winter Festival. The only regret they had was that next year the celebrations would not coincide. For some, it was a once in a lifetime experience for the lucky youngsters they would live to see another.
But that was the future and who knew what adventures lay ahead.











From the Grand Council of Noble Dragons, We wish you a Joyous Christmas and a Peaceful New Year

For the majority of readers out there who are unaware of my books and in particular The Sprocket Sagas here is your chance to enter 7 Pudding Founders Lane and meet the adventurous team who are always ready to champion the cause of good against evil.
The first book of the series, Sprocket and the Great Northern Forest, is now being serialised on NIUME a great blog site covering all sorts of topics.
To access this site simply type niume into your search engine and away you go. When you register please enter the code https://niume.com/?ambassadorID=97066 as this will help me spread the word further. Once registered it will give you the facility to paste your book reviews to an even wider audience.

SO GO TO NIUME AND GET A FREE CHAPTER A DAY.

It started on 15/11/2016 and runs for the next 10 days.

DON'T MISS YOUR FREE READ!

Revisiting a classic thriller
During my youth in the 50s-60s The Third Man was a regular film on our black and white TV and the Harry Lime theme played on a zither was a radio favourite. I watched the Orson Wells classic movie many times but until recently had not read the book. This month I have rectified this omission and thoroughly enjoyed the experience.
This is a tale of a lonely man adrift in a divided city there to visit a friend who has died just as he arrives. A story of divided loyalties and shattered friendship told by a military policeman who is relieved to have the chance to close one of his cases.
Why has a writer of third rate Western pulp fiction been invited to give a series of lecturers to literary groups? Why do the accounts of a friend’s violent death not add up? Who was the third man who only one witness seems to have seen. Was the dead man good or a racketeer responsible for the deaths of children?
Set in Vienna split between the four main allies at the end of the Second World War this is a book of its time but far from being dated. Treat yourself to a tour of this grim city, its seedier inhabitants and the complications of ruling powers who have little in common now their enemy has been defeated. A real page turner.

I have been absent from the keyboard for some time and my laptop has been feeling very neglected. The cause of this has been a severe bout of DIY, namely the refurbishment of our kitchen and bathroom. It all started with a throw away comment by my wife regarding the ageing pine board ceiling in the bathroom and how it needed to be replaced. This lead over the ensuing month to a series of designs and other hints regarding the dowdiness of the paintwork in the kitchen. What started as a simple task of finding a plasterer to do the bathroom ceiling grew like topsy and became major reconstruction projects. I have struggled with toughened glass splash backs and and a new 2 person shower which I now admit was really too large for one man to lift and fit without running a high risk of developing a hernia. Now they are done and I am puffed up with pride at my achievements. My world has been brought crunching back to reality by my eldest granddaughter who having viewed my masterpieces said
"Very nice granddad but when are you going to write another Sprocket book? I've been waiting ages."
So back to the keyboard and hope for inspiration to strike.

FREE EBOOK
Don't miss this offer!
For the first 10 replies to "Sprocket Promotion" on penworkspublishing@gmail.com I will send you a promotion code and instructions to receive a FREE ebook copy of Sprocket and the Great Northern Forest the first book in the Sprocket Sagas. Don't delay! get your request in today.

I have just tried to post a review of this book on goodreads only to find it's not listed. Worse still only the very first book of this splendid series of which this is the tenth book shows and that has no review!
So give yourself a treat and buy Origins and get into Spinward Fringe Broadcasts.

Review of Warpath (Spinward Fringe Broadcast 9) by Randolph Lalonde
If you have never tried any of this series then you have a treat in store, a whole nine galaxy spanning adventure stuffed with believable characters both good, bad and some in-between. Warpath is the beginning of the fight back against an unprincipled enemy and we devotees have breathed a sigh of relief for this. Things which have held back the main characters are being overcome and they seem at last to stand a fighting chance. I had waited for the release of this book for what seemed like an age and once it downloaded onto my Kindle I dived in without hesitation (how else can you read sci-fi these days but on an eReader?).
The pace is breath taking the action as brutal as expected from the collection of unmitigated villains ranged against our heroes and the storyline has a smooth logic which carries it to a cliff hanging conclusion through an entertaining series of plot twists. I found myself alternately cheering on the good guys then having my hopes dashed as the bad guys came up with countermeasures.
If you have read the previous books don’t miss this one I this series is new to you start at book1 and ride the rodeo bull to the end of this one. When you reach that point I am sure, like me, your only question will be, how long before Broadcast 10 is released?
5 Stars

The latest of the Sprocket Sagas and the fourth in the series will be available from this week on Amazon in both Kindle and paperback.
Look out for the preview coming soon.

T.J. Shortt has just published an interview with me on her blog.
http://shivercove.com/bryan-pentelow-...
and had some very kind comments which gave me a real boost today. After last week when my phone, laptop and car broke down this was a better way to start a week. Why not get in touch with T.J and offer to bare your soul on her blog it can be a rewarding experience.
The week started well on Monday as my ever patient wife finished proofing the latest Sprocket Saga (Sprocket and the Heart of the North) so it has been up loaded to Creatspace and should be available on Kindle and in paperback soon.

I need to read faster. I made contact with the review swap thread in one of my groups and now have a list of books to read as long as my arm. These are forcing me out of my comfort zone and I am finding it enjoyable. Try this experiment and read books you may not otherwise have considered.
How many other authors on goodreads long to see their works on the shelves of libraries? This was where my love of books was born. Coming from a working class background our home was not awash with books and nor was it flush with money to buy them. The local library was a godsend and the librarian encouraged young readers and was always willing to hunt out the next book in a series of interest. In celebration of the freedom lending libraries bring to cash strapped readers let's all support them.
See below one of the smallest and most exclusive libraries in the British isles which is in the village of Tholthorpe in North Yorkshire. I hope one day to see one of my titles in there.