Casimir Greenfield

Slow Poison is climbing toward Authonomy's Top Ten

2014-04-01T07:23:00.002-07:00

Read Slow Poison Here: Slow Poison Book LInk

Slow Poison has been on the Authonomy charts for a while now and, while Bloodstones reached the editor's desk over a year ago, Slow Poison has taken its time and is now within reach of that hallowed spot at the top.

Slow Poison has undergone some radical changes: I've taken the story through a radical re-write and there is now a little twist in the ending of the tale...

The story has a dark and convoluted plot. I've been told there are touches of Larsson and other Scandinavians about my writing. It does have a certain Continental style.

The story in a nutshell: Amsterdam 1987. A quiet assassin waits for the perfect moment. Thirty years on, that moment has arrived.

The story in several nutshells:

Amsterdam 1987.The brutal slaying of a British tourist and the subsequent arrest and imprisonment of a young football supporter sparks off an orgy of violence. But the killing is no random act. The boy is innocent.

Back in England, the real killer begins the final chapter of an obsessive vendetta, culminating in a bloody siege high in the snowbound Cotswolds.

I may publish soon unless an agent or publisher takes me on board.

Either way, with the book re-written, I'm keen to let the reader loose on the story. Slow Poison Book Link

Red House is screaming to be unleashed.

Ruben Ireland's 'Out Of Body' Exhibition opening April 5th in San Francisco

2014-03-16T23:26:00.004-07:00

We've had the privilege of attending a private showing of Ruben's new works for the San Francisco exhibition and they are stunning! The boy is on a creative high - catch him while you can!

Ruben is headlining the exhibition and has chosen a group of his favourite artists from around the world to join him at the Gauntlet Gallery in San Francisco for an exhibition entitled 'Out Of Body'.

Ruben created covers for both of my books: Bloodstones and Slow Poison

You can see more of Ruben's work at Ruben's Website

For gallery information, here's the link: Gauntlet Gallery

Urgent: Charity Video in Stroud needs Extras!

2013-10-15T15:25:00.001-07:00

Urgent: Charity Video in Stroud needs Extras!

Filming begins tomorrow for Dave Ireland's Big Issue Foundation Charity Christmas Single video. We need willing extras to join in the fun on Wednesday October 16th. Anyone who would like to be in the video can meet Matt Bradley in the Brunel Car Park at 15.00hrs (or at the site - the arches opposite Waitrose on the other side of the by-pass on Doctor Newton's Way)

Filming will take a couple of hours - payment is that warm glowing feeling you get from giving a helping hand (plus a credit if there's room at the end of the film...)

We'd love to see you there - let us know if you can make it.

Casimir Greenfield : Mr G is asked 10 Questions...

2013-10-08T15:03:00.001-07:00

Casimir Greenfield : Mr G is asked 10 Questions...: I was recently been asked to take part in a new 'Blog Hop' thing by fellow author Glenn Muller...so here's how I answered the 1...

The Killing Of Casimir Greenfield

2013-06-12T23:31:00.001-07:00

I'm thinking of killing Casimir Greenfield...

Cas is my alter ego, a good friend and confidant, the guy who lives inside my soul. But...I'm working on a number of projects under my given name and I'm beginning to feel that Mister Greenfield might serve me better if he took on my other worldly persona.

Yes. This is a biggie! I might just have to kill the guy off!

There was a time when I felt that the division of labour as the best route to pursue, but somehow, at this point in my career, it feels that consolidation might just be the better path.

I haven't decided the method of Mr G's demise, but I can assure you all that should it go ahead, it will be an interesting death.

(I'm not ruling out cryogenics either)

So, there is a battle royale looming. And, who knows, Cas might well emerge the victor.

Watch this space...

Pressure Drop

2013-06-07T22:37:00.000-07:00

I've decided to embrace Vegan-ism. No, this isn't a Star Trek thing - I'm not headed in a sci-fi direction - although the thought of an army of Vegans peacefully ruling the planets has some appeal. This is all about personal body politics.

Back to Earth, Greenfield!

I bought a speaking blood pressure device this week. When you've passed 35 (or 45, 55, 60...) these things are as essential as an i-pod!

The darn thing told me in perfect German that I was suffering from mild hypertension. The English version told me no different.

My diet has been almost exclusively vegetarian for the past year. Add to that the oily fish and making sure that our source ingredients are organic has been good for the old Greenfield body.

But...I can't resist a bit of tangy cheese, the odd packet of potato crisps, the occasional bag of chips.

Mrs G and I have been food concious for most of our lives. Heck, we were Macrobiotic caterers for one full year in the early 1970s - providing meals for weekend sensitivity training groups at a castle in the country. (More about that when Red House is published!).

This means that whatever we eat, nothing is consumed without at least some forethought and subsequent enjoyment. But the blood pressure machine speaking in its many tongues (I have yet to explore the Spanish version...) has given me all the warning I need to re-adjust the Greenfield diet once more.

Time to explore a non-dairy direction. I had already considered returning to the Macrobiotic regime, but I need to journey a little further I think. Cutting out eggs and cheese and milk is not the hardship it might appear. I already drink my coffee black, have to steel myself to eat an egg and the cheese...well, the cheese could be a problem. But, the weight has to come off, the cholesterol levels need to fall and that blood pressure is due to drop.

Now that I've committed some of my thoughts to the page, I'll let you know how things develop (in between the writing and the rest) over the next few months.

I'm not going to evangelise. Each to their own. But lifestyle changes at any age are an exciting challenge.

Wish me luck!

Life's Mystery - We Need Not To Know...

2013-04-10T23:19:00.001-07:00

The blog title is a re-working of a John Cage poem. Known better as a composer, famously of the four minute plus opus of silence, the late composer chose his words carefully.

Someone reviewed my book, Slow Poison recently and I learned a little more about what I do from their perspective.

'I think you handle the unpeeling process brilliantly. It is an unpleasant story -- definitely not one for the squeamish -- but engrossing throughout, not least because it exposes the processes of evil without being in any way judgemental.' Alex Kuhnberg

I have always written intuitively, but indeed, without giving the game away too soon (if at all).

April sees me taking down both of my books from Amazon and the rest. I have decided to un-publish them as e-books for the time being. I feel that, if they have worth, then a conventional publisher will recognise that and put a bit of clout behind them. It's easy to self-publish, but there is a lot of writing out there that might not be ready.

To that end, I am actively seeking an agent. I keep getting close to finding one, but with my uncompromising writing style it will take someone who can see the full and future potential and have just enough faith to take me to the right places.

This is not a plea of any kind, just an ongoing report on the workings of yet one more writers doings.

But, if you know someone who knows someone...get in touch!

Now - back to Mister Cage's Silence...

Read Slow Poison Here...

Slow Poison & Bloodstones - Read 50 Pages Free

2013-01-18T00:20:00.001-08:00

Read 50 Pages of Slow Poison and Bloodstones for Free

Slow Poison is all about snow...and sex and murder and revenge!

Slow Poison is the debut novel of UK author Casimir Greenfield. Set in both Amsterdam and The Cotswolds, Slow Poison is a hard hitting, uncompromising look at the seedier side of life. Set in the mid 1980s, Slow Poison moves through several decades and draws in life on a Cotswold housing estate, Amsterdam and the holocaust together in an unprecedented way.

A reader comments; 'This is a good play on mistaken identity - the imprisonment of a youth for a shocking murder in Amsterdam when, it eventually transpires, the real murderer is another person who has an agenda of death to meet on others in vengeance for the mayhem he once experienced on a seedy Gloucestershire estate.
I was first attracted to this book because of the contrast between the beautiful Cotswolds, which I know quite well, and the brutality which, I had thought, irreconcilable with such a place.
Perhaps more interesting though, is that the killer is incited to commit his trail of murders by coming under the influence of a diary written about the WWII death camps and I do sometimes wonder whether, even today, society somewhere, in some country, might still be so fragile as to have failed to recognise when evil can creep back again.' Martin C (UK)

Slow Poison in a nutshell: Slow Poison opens in Amsterdam in the days around the feast of Saint Nicholas in December in the mid 1980’s.

The brutal slaying of a British tourist and the subsequent arrest and imprisonment of a young football supporter sparks off an orgy of violence. But the killing is no random act. The boy is innocent. The real killer returns to England to begin the final chapter of an obsessive campaign of revenge spanning several decades.

The twisted acts of violence and vengeance are punctuated by the pages of a stolen diary written in the dark days of the second world war. The killer identifies with the unspeakable horrors of the death camp as he coldly wreaks revenge for a series of traumatic events that took place in the mid 1950s on a Gloucestershire council estate.

The story culminates with an abduction and a bloody siege high in the snowbound Cotswold hills.

And nothing and no one is quite what they seem...

(This book contains very strong language and scenes of a sexual nature. )

Slow Poison is the first of three books set in and around The Cotswolds that we can expect from Greenfield. Red House will be released in 2013. For now, Slow Poison is set to become one of those chilling stories that, although not to everyone's taste, once read will not be forgotten.

Bloodstones is now available on Amazon.

The English and snow...

2013-01-17T12:06:00.002-08:00

Mrs G and I like to do our weekly shopping on a Thursday. We visit a local market town, and once loaded up take a drive into the country, a coffee at a little arts centre, then a walk with Coco The Wonder Dog on Uley Berrow.

But town was unusually busy. We did our normal shop, but everyone else was loading up their carriages like the end of the world was coming.

Snow. Yes, it really is the end of the world.

The six o'clock news told us that everywhere folk were buying up all the milk, bread and petrol for miles around. The snow that was threatened is obviously going to cut off all supplies of everything...

We always have a good larder full of basics, so we should be okay. If we get caught without something, I'll tweet!

On our way to the walk, the trees were dusted with the most beautiful icing. The sun was low and tinted the ice with gold. There is a Gibbous moon on the way. And the snow will be lovely.

I'm off to finish some short story songs I was working on. I may be sometime.

There's snow business like...well, you get the picture...

ps: The garden is looking lovely this morning and Coco (tWD) is having a ball. Time for oats and a shot of caffeine - then I'm all set for the day.

The Yo-Yo Dog

2013-01-11T23:31:00.001-08:00

The short break after the seasonal celebrations saw me inventing a new toy; The Yo-Yo Dog. We're planning to go global in the summer of 2013 with this innovative new beach game. Ably assisted by Mrs G and Coco The Wonder Dog, our eco-friendly game is all set to out-strip Gangham Style as the new phenomenon.

Check out the beach trial images below. A sure winner. Fame and fortune awaits.

Now...back to the writing...

Mr G is asked 10 Questions...

2013-01-06T11:36:00.002-08:00

I was recently been asked to take part in a new 'Blog Hop' thing by fellow author Glenn Muller...so here's how I answered the 10 questions put to me about my book 'Slow Poison'. Feel free to ask me anything else you'd like to know... (Glenn's link is at the foot of this blog)

So - here goes with the ten!

1) What is the working title of your book?

SLOW POISON - this has been the working title for a year or so. The original title was 'A Quiet Vengeance', but I think the current title has more menace.

2) Who or what inspired you to write the book?

I lived in Amsterdam for a quarter of a century but I was born and raised in The Cotswolds - a heady combination. Encountering a horde of football hooligans in the 80s, finding myself caught up with a near riot in the city, a chance meeting (in Amsterdam) with an old school comrade plus my furtive imagination unleashed the book.

3) Where did the idea come from for your book?

I can add nothing more to the answer to 2.

4) How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

The first draft was completed in around two months, the tweaking and heavy edits over the past couple of years. Are we there yet?

5) What genre does your book fall under?

Thriller, with some pretentions to literary fiction.

6) What is the one sentence synopsis of your book?

'From murder and mayhem on the streets of Amsterdam to quiet vengeance in the pastoral English countryside, Slow Poison is the silent assassin.'

7) What other books would you compare this story to?

Mrs. G. (who has read almost every book around...) thinks that it has echoes of Larsson and Nesbo. I've read neither, but I know the book is very dark and visceral.

8) Which actors would you choose to play in your movie rendition?

Unfamilar names and faces. A famous lead would give the game away too soon.

9) Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

I took the plunge and self-published at the end of 2012. Amazon for Kindle for now. An agent and a publisher would be a good move, though...

10) What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?

Nothing and no-one in the book are quite what they might seem. The plot does keep you guessing and there is a twist in the last few pages. A little King-like frisson that changes the story in one fell swoop.

Slow Poison on Amazon

Slow Poison cover by www.rubenireland.co.uk

Glenn Muller's Blog

and why no try this great blog site too...http://deadlyeverafter.com/

Mister Greenfield's New Year

2013-01-03T03:02:00.004-08:00

The sky was crystal clear close to midnight, with Orion pin-sharp above our heads in the unpolluted dark. The only light we could see were buoys bobbing far out in the Atlantic Ocean and the soft garden lights around the hot tub.

A new year, heralded in a new way for us. We bounced 'Mastermind' questions back and forth from an ancient boxed game from before 1986, pleased with the obscure answers we mustered from somewhere. Around a ninety percent score with the balance
tipping toward Mrs G. Then it was a question of donning bath robes (well, she wore mine...) as we headed out to the midnight garden clutching the bottle of Bolly we had been given on our ruby anniversary a couple of years ago. Not being enthusiastic drinkers meant we had kept this one in store for a special occasion. This was it. I forgot the sparklers though. I had bought the last packet in a little shop in Cardigan. A nice thought.!

The hot tub was heaven. we turned down the bubbles and opened the bubbly. Unlike us, we had opted for the plastic beakers, thinking all too sensibly about the consequences of tipsily broken glass...

Midnight came with the roaring off fireworks a few villages away at Saundersfoot. We heard more than we saw, but every few minutes a beautiful dandelion head would rise above the winter planting around the hot tub to shimmer in rainbow colours before fading into memory. The last of the seed heads appeared around ten minutes into the new year accompanied by a distant roar of an unseen crowd. Magnificent. Moments later explosions from closer harbours filled the air.

When silence overcame the night we hurried back to the cottage together. I returned to close the tub and extinguish the garden lights. I retrieved the half bottle of Bolly and sealed the top for the next night. There was tar on my fingers. I don't know where that
came from. I dreamed of the missing 1930s bow-tie that should have come with our Cardigan find. But the night was not yet over. How could it be?

And, for once, realistic resolutions and goals form in my mind. I'll re-structure 'Slow Poison', re-write 'Bloodstones'. Finish 'Red House' and turn 'Ruby Noone' back into a novel from the extensive screenplay it had become. On the musical side, there are two
albums scheduled for January recording plus a tour to organise.

Oh, and I've given up meat for good...but that happened in March really...but now it's official!

Happy New Year!

Valentines Day is just around the corner...

2012-12-27T14:07:00.003-08:00

Oh, how swift the moment changes. We bade farewell to our eldest daughter and the grand-children after a twenty-four hour stay at Greenfield Acres and a quick visit to our little vintage store to check out the new floor. The white Christmas tree was still glistening at the apex of the hall of mirrors and a few lucky dips still dangled from the foil branches. Not for long though - Ruby and Amelie stripped the branches in no time at all and strode around the upper floor in lucky dip finery before giving Grampy Greenfield a farewell peck or two.

Christmas over, my thoughts turn to St Valentine. I came across the heart shaped mirror screen a couple of days ago and my mind turned to visions of love. Six weeks away. That's all! And with Saint V comes the first inklings of spring. I love the spring.

I promised Mrs G our first trip to Venice in the spring. Remind me when the time comes all of you...

I won't need reminding...

The shop tree will disappear before twelfth night, but the one at home will stay until the very last moment. And the mistletoe still works...

I'm turning in for the night now. Non stop shop and then the seasonal celebrations have fnally floored me. We have our little break in Wales coming up - and then on into the newest of years...

I'll just give that heart-shaped mirror a little polish...

Goodnight all!

Love, Peace and Harmony from Mister G.

2012-12-22T22:35:00.001-08:00

Listen to 'A Shropshire Lad'

It looks as though we survived the whole end of the world thing. Here at Greenfield Acres life goes on as crazily as it ever has.

The little vintage shop we own doubled in size on the twelfth of the twelfth of the twelfth at 12:12...and we survived the upheaval that caused and the buzz is out. We've already supplied seasonal gifts for some of the local authors our part of the world seems to breed. Of course I couldn't possibly mention any names, but just think equestrianism and sex and you'll be in the right ball park.

Mrs G and I are exhausted, but there is a short break on the horizon. We're off to our favourite little Pembrokeshire hidey hole. Nestling on the cliffs above Amroth with expansive views of the Atlantic Ocean. I threatened the kids that I'm taking part in the New Year's Day swim... (I already went skinny dipping in October...) but it's not happening - we just like to wind them up. They should left home years ago, so they deserve a scare from time to time.

My book, Slow Poison, is picking up some good reads. The story is set at this time of year and is well worth checking out. (Here's a link to a free sample read: Slow Poison Sampler )

You'll have noticed another link at the top of this blog. It's a link to a favourite track of mine from David Ireland. A gentle little protest song of sorts called 'A Shropshire Lad'. Well worth a listen. Listen to 'A Shropshire Lad'

A few more days of trading in the vintage store before we head to Wales to recharge the depleted batteries. I may have a chance to write a few more thoughts before the end of the year. Let me take this opportunity to wish you all the very best for the season with a big helping of love and peace and harmony for good measure.

Happy Christmas, Cas

Slow Poison; Casimir Greenfield's Perfect Winter Chiller!

2012-12-19T14:52:00.001-08:00

Slow Poison; Casimir Greenfield's Perfect Winter Chiller!

Set in the snowbound Cotswolds, Slow Poison is a tale of vengeance, abduction and snow. Casimir Greenfield's debut novel paints a picture of English rural life seldom seen. Slow Poison will do for the countryside what Trainspotting did for the town.

Read a sample at the Amazon link Slow Poison Sample

Slow Poison is the debut novel of UK author Casimir Greenfield. Set in both Amsterdam and The Cotswolds, Slow Poison is a hard hitting, uncompromising look at the seedier side of life. Set in the mid 1980s, Slow Poison moves through several decades and draws in life on a Cotswold housing estate, Amsterdam and the holocaust together in an unprecedented way.

A reader comments; 'This is a good play on mistaken identity - the imprisonment of a youth for a shocking murder in Amsterdam when, it eventually transpires, the real murderer is another person who has an agenda of death to meet on others in vengeance for the mayhem he once experienced on a seedy Gloucestershire estate.
I was first attracted to this book because of the contrast between the beautiful Cotswolds, which I know quite well, and the brutality which, I had thought, irreconcilable with such a place.
Perhaps more interesting though, is that the killer is incited to commit his trail of murders by coming under the influence of a diary written about the WWII death camps and I do sometimes wonder whether, even today, society somewhere, in some country, might still be so fragile as to have failed to recognise when evil can creep back again.' Martin C (UK)

Slow Poison in a nutshell: Slow Poison opens in Amsterdam in the days around the feast of Saint Nicholas in December in the mid 1980’s.

The brutal slaying of a British tourist and the subsequent arrest and imprisonment of a young football supporter sparks off an orgy of violence. But the killing is no random act. The boy is innocent. The real killer returns to England to begin the final chapter of an obsessive campaign of revenge spanning several decades.

The twisted acts of violence and vengeance are punctuated by the pages of a stolen diary written in the dark days of the second world war. The killer identifies with the unspeakable horrors of the death camp as he coldly wreaks revenge for a series of traumatic events that took place in the mid 1950s on a Gloucestershire council estate.

The story culminates with an abduction and a bloody siege high in the snowbound Cotswold hills.

And nothing and no one is quite what they seem...

(This book contains very strong language and scenes of a sexual nature. )

Slow Poison is the first of three books set in and around The Cotswolds that we can expect from Greenfield. Bloodstones and Red House will both be released in 2013. For now, Slow Poison is set to become one of those chilling stories that, although not to everyone's taste, once read will not be forgotten.

12/12/12/12/12

2012-12-08T22:35:00.001-08:00

12/12/12/12/12

Long days. Up at Five, bed at One.

Were refurbishing our little shop, opening a second floor and there is much to do. The new stairs have been hand built and installed. The ceiling has been tented with white canvas and the walls have been painted white. The wooden floor is jet black. Four blood red chandeliers to be hung and blood red rugs to be laid and we'll be open for the press and public on the most auspicious date we could have hoped for.

When pressed for an official opening time, there was of course one waiting.

So, we're opening at 12.12 on the twelfth or the twelfth of the twelfth.

The candle burning is mainly because we're doing all of this work on a shoestring budget and the shop has to be manned and open while it's all going on.

Plus, with the festive season upon us, we're now open seven days a week.

So, the shop is full of lovely customers. We have supplied a Christmas gift for one of The Cotswolds most successful writers (think sex and horses...) and the milliner to the stars was in yesterday too. And Mrs Hodges dropped by for a brooch. A young guy from the fish stall from the market was looking for a cloth cap. He's shaving his head for charity. (a friend has leukaemia and he's raising money to help him...) And a couple of our customers brought us gifts of wine and chocolate. It doesn't get better than that!

Think of us on the twelfth It is the dawn of a new era. A time of bright hope for the little person. That would be nice. It's about bloody time!

If you want to have a peek - check the website after the big day. www.stroudvintage.com

We have a short break booked for the end of the year - the cottage in Pembrokeshire. There will be time to sleep then. But knowing us,, we'll be up and off and doing from morn till night. You're a long time dead!

And on that cheery note, adieu!

Image by Carl Hewlett courtesy of the SNJ

Pushed To The Limit

2012-12-05T23:39:00.000-08:00

Sometimes you've just got to know when to stop.

It's not always easy to know, not always easy to stop....but when those warning signs rear their ugly little heads (or whatever it is warning signs do) something has to give.

It was at the point that Mrs G tried to get out of the car while we were still moving that I realised that summat was up!

We have been revamping our little vintage shop and the stress and strain of trying to reach a suddenly unattainable deadline had started to get to us.

After a morning of sourcing canvas to tent a ceiling, project managing a herd of cats involved in stair fitting, floor painting and general refurb mayhem Mrs G and I were at breaking point.

The deadline is ours and ours alone. No one is waiting for that one specific day - so, this morning, at 5.25, we called a halt. Friday is out! 12 12 12 is in.

What a perfect and unique date to launch a new endeavour.

Calm...

Chilled...

ps: if you want to see how we got on, have a look at www.stroudvintage.com in a couple of days - there should be some very glamorous images to whet the appetite.

November Fades In A Foreign Place

2012-12-01T23:40:00.001-08:00

I can't remember the last time I went on a holiday. As a self-employed freelancer, holidays are an intrusive luxury I simply can't afford.

Well, there were the four days in Pembrokeshire in mid-October. They would have been delightful, but when our twenty-something sons joined us twelve hours in, they brought with them all the chaos and debris that is usually the realm of teenagers. So that doesn't count.

So, the last real holiday was a week in Malta three years ago. Mrs G had lived there as a child and this was a significant trip. And through the tears and reminiscences we had a perfect time.

Then came last Thursday.

I had occasion to need my passport to verify something or other. Good lord, the photo still looked like me. I'm not growing any more hair, so that wasn't a problem. But the darn thing was thirteen months out of date!

So, a quick phone call to the passport office fixed up an interview for a full moon Friday...

Yesterday actually...

We motored along the far banks of the Severn, avoiding floods and traffic until we realised that the time was cracking on, so I really put my foot down.

Newport looked amazing in the crisp winter air. Amazing architecture, both ancient and modern and we reached our destination with one minute to spare.

I tumbled into the office, poured the contents of my pockets into the security man's bucket. Nothing much of note. Phone, small change, gum - that kind of thing. Then upstairs for the interview.

Just a waiting room with others waiting. No interview. Just handed the forms in when my number was called. Then the first hitch. My photos were too thin. The wrong shape. So into a handy photo booth in the corner of the waiting room to add five pounds to the Welsh economy.

Handed in the photos (which actually looked like me for once) paid the money and headed back down to find Mrs G and Coco The Wonder Dog who had elected to travel with us.

Happy in his crate, we found a multi-storey in the centre of town, took the lift and emerged into the town centre. Much building work wherever we looked.

Into the nearest pub. 'Are you dog friendly?' 'Nah - and you won''t find anywhere in the centre that is, either!' I looked around and thought, well, you let THAT lot in! Didn't voice it though. Part of his ear had been bitten off.

CTWD would be just fine crated and asleep. So we went off in search of Americanos. Crowded streets full of Christmas shoppers. An old bloke accosted us. 'Everywhere you go there's a bloody foreigner following you...'. I answered him in Dutch. 'You foreigners then?' 'We're English. Does that count?' Then I went on to point out that it's a big world and that really, we're all the same... Deaf ears. Probably a UKIP supporter. Great start.

Coffee and a giant chocolate chip cookie. Starbucks. Not my favourite. As always, messy tables and a bit of a smell. Purple plush seats though and a good view of the street.

Outside, a pretty girl in a white bobble hat, anorak and backpack smilingly approached the passers by. The silent rebuffs took on myriad forms. In the twenty minutes we sat there, not one person stopped to listen. She had no clip board, no leaflets. We were intrigued. The smile remained, but no one stopped. What a thankless task.

Outside, Mrs G went her way and I thought I'd investigate Bobble Girl. She ignored me. The first willing victim and she ignored me. Ho hum...

Caught up with Mrs G and shopped.

Later, I made my solo way back to the car with some heavy bags and Bobble Girl approached me. At last! I'm not the Invisible Man... Greenpeace! Ah! I'm a supporter. She was all the way from Cheltenham. Had been in our shop. Thought I'd recognised her.

We chatted, the smile was genuine, we parted on the best of terms.

Then I bumped into old UKIP again. As xenophobic as ever. CTWD was happy to stay in the car, and I needed to get to the Passport Office. Four hours had flown (with a pleasant lunch in between) and I needed to locate the place. Took a hopeful short-cut down a back alley behind the dog unfriendly pub come nightclub.

I was dressed like a businessman; grey Lauren overcoat, Burbury scarf, olive green trilby...so I must have looked a little incongruous hauling the twelve yards of black chiffon covered with sequins out of the skip halfway down the alley. But I'm not going to let a length of chiffon go to waste. There was a black feather boa too, but it came out in pieces and that was a step too far. Must have been quite a hen night though. Or stag do - you know what rugby players are like!

So, my second trip to the Passport Office required me once more to empty my pockets. Same as before, but this time accompanied by twelve yards of glittery chiffon. I didn't have a bag, so there it was, a huge sticky bundle of dubious provenance. I know. I know. I must have looked a little odd.

I was past caring at this point.

Upstairs, waiting room, full, me in business garb with glittery bundle.

The passport was ready. I was more than ready to leave the country.

Mrs G was not at all surprised with the chiffon. We go back a long way. I can only imagine what old UKIP would have to say.

We roared out of town after paying through the nose for the parking and we headed for the Severn Bridge (free from the Welsh side) and England.

An hour later we were at a marquee manufacturers discussing false ceilings. Like you do. Then home for Cypriot potatoes and tuna.

coda;

When I was a boy, I heard of the 'World Passport'. I thought it was a wonderful idea. I loved the idea of border-less travel, of being a 'foreigner', of being vaguely exotic. But in the real world there are borders and squabbles and war and other nasty stuff.

But I did travel. I did become a foreigner. And briefly, there were no borders in Europe, no checks...then things changed a little.

But, for half of my life. I've always been an outsider. On the inside.

This week our town has a Goodwill Evening. The theme is 'Make Love, Not War!'. In my world, there is still hope. Peace and Love to you all.

Britain's Got Talent - Phase One

2012-11-28T08:58:00.000-08:00

I've just had coffee with a friend of mine. You know, the one that entered 'Britain's Got Talent'.

It was lovely to hear how the whole thing went. Let me share a few little nuggets with you.

The queues had already formed before friend and their family turned up for the audition.

The weather was reasonably clement, so queueing up for the required two and a half hours did not present too much of a problem.

The queue. A be-fezzed magician who constantly got the card tricks wrong, a darts player in a black suit with diamante lapels (who would end up singing 'Delilah') a couple of gay punks with mohican haircuts who kissed and cuddled all the way to the entrance just to keep warm.

And in the background a huge truck with a laser display showing Les Mis the movie clips and ads for BGT.

The entrance? To what? Well it turned out that they were in the gym hall of a county cricket ground. And the whole place was full of artistes, all waiting to strut their stuff.

Drag artists, girl bands, more dart players and my friend.

Cameras everywhere, but no Simon, no Amanda...of course not. My friend had done the research. These were the preliminary heats. Thousands whittled down to an ultimate five hundred or so.

Interviews were done, songs were sung and all before the real thing. My friend was in group F, and was the last of the day to go up.

Room 21. The President's Suite.

Diamante Dart Player was in and out in ninety seconds...friend was in for about six minutes. And it seemed to go well. LA guy behind the desk was very encouraging.

So, the waiting begins.

I know nothing. I will keep you informed.

If friend makes it to the next stage I'll be sure to tell you - every vote counts, so we'll be counting on you!

Slow Poison - A Foreign Language?

2012-11-19T09:27:00.003-08:00

Some of you dipping into my blog may not be native English speakers. I lived on the Continent for a quarter of a century, so I have learned to choose my words well, and hopefully manage to communicate my thoughts so that everyone can understand.

Recently an American publisher interested in my work commented on my use of dialogue and slang that might render some of the book difficult for the US market to understand.

Oh heavens! I thought I'd cracked it language wise!

So...if you have the chance to have a read and let me know what you think and whether you can make head or tails of my scribblings, I would be most grateful.

Check out chapter one and send me your thoughts.

Cas

Slow Poison Chapter One

Two Hundred Shades Of Gray

2012-11-15T23:54:00.002-08:00

Quite a week!

The week began with a visit to my dentist. She's an old school friend, and there's nothing better than being strapped to a chair with someone's fingers and implements holding the mouth open while being regaled with stories about everyone we ever had in common.

I missed out on an old boys' reunion dinner last week (went to a blues gig instead...) so hearing about those people from the past was entertaining and a little reassuring too.

If any of you have been to a reunion you'll know what I mean. For me it was two hundred guys in grey suits who it was hard enough to identify in school uniforms, let alone grey suits.

I've only been to one. I'd just moved back to the country after a quarter of a century abroad. At school I'd been the mouse. The shyest guy in the world. Not any more.

So, I hatched a plan. The best way (I thought) to announce my presence to this grey room would be from the stage. So, I put myself forward as guest speaker. They jumped at the chance. So...free dinner, great seat, Cas the show-off got to speak for twenty minutes. Raised some laughs too. Sat next to the bishop, the headmaster and various other luminaries.

I had fun gazing out across the sea of grey...disbelieving faces... 'Is that REALLY Cas Greenfield?'

Then the hall door burst open! Puffy Waldron! Newted as a Pea...drunk as a lord! 'Effing Hell - it's Effing Greenfield! How are you, me old mate?'

Well, I was just fine. I always liked old Puffy. Beat off the bullies a few times for me. A good mate.

We all finished off the evening in fine form, most of them still unsure that it was really me.

I gathered some of them up at the end of the evening and delivered the drunken bodies back to their partners. I don't drink, so driving around was another chapter in another book.

But I didn't go this year. Bumped into Pete Barnes. 'How was it?' 'Food was alright...' 'Puffy?' 'No, he wasn't there...I didn't know a soul...'

Oh dear - the sea of gray!

The filling was successful, I left the dentist's chair with some more anecdotes. Thus, my busy week began with a numb jaw and a head full of bits.

Coffee with the BGT friend later today. Now, that should be fun.

Watch this cavity.

ps; You can check out Slow Poison's opener by clicking this link; Slow Poison - Read The Opening Here

Britain's Got Talent - First Impressions...

2012-11-08T01:03:00.004-08:00

I know someone who is going for a Britain's Got Talent audition!

Of course, I'm not at liberty to divulge any information whatsoever on pain of death, but I'll be curious to hear how the experience was over a cup of coffee in the near future.

I have no idea what their chance of getting anywhere will be - a naked knife-throwing dog act on stilts may not be to everyone's liking - but hey, it's not me that's entering!

Their act will be a pure and simple performance, letting the personality shine through in a gentle way. No frills, no fireworks - just ninety seconds of something sweet and gentle. Ninety seconds! That's all the time they will get to impress. The wait beforehand could be hours, but those ninety seconds will be vital. When I know more, I'll let you know.

The skill of impressing in a short space of time is what we all strive for I think. For me it has to be the opening of a book. Those first 600 words or so are vital. It is apparently just about the most an agent will read before moving on to the next book. A sobering thought!

So, over the months, I have been paring back my books and honing as much as I can to get it right. At the moment, I'm more than happy with the opening of Slow Poison. I believe it sets the tone, draws the reader in and hopefully will propel you forward into reading more.

The old cliché comes to mind. You only have one chance to make a first impression.

Not strictly true in these days of ePublishing, but you get the picture.

So, my friend at BGT had better get it right.

I hope I did...

Let me know what you think. You can check out Slow Poison's opener by clicking this link; Slow Poison - Read The Opening Here

ps. I'm due for that cup of coffee any day, so I'll let you in on the BGT juicy bits...

Remember, remember...Bang Bang; a slight amendment...

2012-11-04T23:38:00.001-08:00

Another day, another celebration looms. Since the invention of fireworks in China countless years ago, each civilisation has found the need to let off those big bangers from time to time. Now, whether that's November 5th (celebrating the Gunpowder Plot in the UK) or the Dutch New Year, a firework will always do the trick.

And for those deprived of the Catherine Wheel in their local supermarket - there's always the thrill of a real war.

Me? Can't stand the bangs. War? I lean toward the John and Yoko camp. Love, peace, understanding and a quiet night in...

If this feels like a meagre posting, it was one of those early morning doodles.

A few little additions: Our town is holding its annual 'Good Will Evening' in a few weeks time. The theme this year is 'Love and Peace'. It's one of those places. A little bit Glastonbury, a little bit Stonehenge. It's where we have our vintage shop, it's where I come from. Stroud just has to be the centre of the known universe...

One of our sons works in the shop and has been asked to dress up in our finest 60s gear to publicise the evening. So it's either Beatle jackets from the Help! era or an original kaftan with love beads and Jim Mcguinn glasses.

Our little corner of the world is one of the greenest places on the map, hosts every kind of protest group going (Queen's Mr May and his badger activities for one...) And one of our many musicians, Dave Ireland, has also just recorded a gentle song about war. I've added a link. The song is titled A Shropshire Lad

It has to be time for a little peace...

So, we'll be buying ear-plugs for the dog, practising our peace signs and hiding under the blankets...

(if you read Slow Poison - you'd never imagine that I was such a scaredy cat!)

ps - he plumped for the Jim McGuinn look

SOS - or How Many Police Officers Does It Take To Mend A Broken Leg

2012-10-31T08:31:00.001-07:00

Mrs G and I decided to take Coco The Wonder Dog, for a mid morning trot on Haresfield Beacon this morning. We arrived at the car park after a long slow climb up the long slow hill leading from the M5. The car park was full and unusually, there were two ambulances and a few ambulance persons wandering about. We spoke to a few other dog walkers, but no one seemed to know what was going on.

We decided to let Wonder Dog have his usual twenty mile run (we walk half a mile - he runs twenty) across the beacon. Then, behind us we heard the sound of several sirens. Three police cars arrives, blue lights flashing and screeched into the car park.

This is a National Trust site. It looked like a crime scene. We wandered off toward the Severn view with a couple of cops taking a parallel path a little lower down. There was some activity on the edge of the escarpment, but we kept a safe distance.

A brief distraction as Coco met Fudge and darted around rolling and tumbling while we passed the time of day with the Grandpuppy Sitters as they described themselves.

Boy, it was cold, so after chatting we did a U turn and headed back. Then, across the fields trundled a cross between a golf buggy and a tank, heading toward the officers and a bundle huddled at the edge...

We kept our distance again.

Back in the car park, there were even more police vehicles. We looked up for a helicopter, but there was none.

The Sitters told us that someone they knew, Irene, was walking her dog and he toppled her over and she had broken her leg. Hence the police and ambulance activity.

Goodness knows how many would turn up if there was a crime. And, if any of the criminal fraternity caught wind of the whereabouts of the police - the crime rate in the villages around the Beacon probably rose considerably.

Irene is okay. But how much did this all cost? Should I be reassured if I am toppled over by The Wonder Dog?

Mrs G would probably drag me back to the car and still expect me to drive home...

All Hallow's Eve, All Saints Day

2012-10-31T06:52:00.001-07:00

We have four children and most of them are Scorpios... I'm not sure what the star sign characteristics are, but we have raised four fiercely independent individuals - and that includes the Gemini child.

Our youngest was born on All Saints Day. He came early. It was on a Sunday and we were not quite prepared. His first diaper belonged to his brother, almost exactly two years older and was akin to putting the poor child in a bucket seat.

We used to call him our 'Rainbow Baby'. First of all he turned blue and we had to rush him of to hospital. Did I mention that most of our children were born at home? We lived in the Netherlands. Children were born at home. So, with the labour beginning on Halloween... You get the picture. It was quite a night. Carrie was not the film Mrs G should have been watching.

So he turned blue and was whisked off and put in an incubator with little portholes on the side and him in aviator sunglasses. Well that's what they looked like.

And then he turned yellow. Jaundice.

We always knew he would turn out to be an artistic child.

These days, I'm not sure what I think of Halloween. Despite the somewhat gruesome nature of my books, I am quite squeamish. But, in the mid nineties we lived in a large and sprawling Gothic school building out in the polders. And we gave the most amazing Halloween parties. Always fancy dress, always full of the most exotic guests in the most exotic costumes. The house would be lit only by candles, we would decorate throughout and with the dry ice machines and spooky music everywhere, those parties were the talk of the town for months.

The biggest problem was that, even though the youngest children were away for the night, they would arrive back the next morning for their birthday celebrations. And the house would be full of the evidence of the evening's doings. Gravestones, candle wax and the odd body lying around.

Those were the days.

Back in the UK, we just don't do those things any more. Plus, I confine my ghoulishness to the pages of my writing.

I will be using one of those parties as the backdrop to a scene in Red House - out in 2013.

So, tomorrow, we celebrate in gentler style. No party. And one of youngest son's gifts was a 'Knitting For Men' course at the local Art's Centre. Then on to brunch at our favourite cafe. What a Rock & Roll lifestyle we have!

Halloween. Scorpions and knitting. What a combination.

Enjoy your trick or treating, wherever you are. And if you were at one of our parties...I hope you found your way back home...

(an aside...someone who was at one of those parties contacted me last evening...oh, the power of blogging!)