Mad, Mad World!

Monday again, beginning of the week and nothing has changed in this world that shows the human race is improving. The Norwegian nutcase goes on trial claiming self defence as his reason for murdering over 70 people. Meanwhile around the world the suicide bombers are murdering others again. And the Press are reporting the slaughter in Afghanistan as the beginning of the ‘shooting season’. Season? Do they think this is something like the beginning of Grouse shooting? And another kind of carnage continues: that of the slaughter of horses in the name of sport. I think it’s time for the authorities to give a closer look at how the Grand National is organised with regard to the care of the animals. And the South American summit of Presidents has actually suggested the legalisation of drugs! At least Obama turned them down. Probably because the CIA would lose some kind of control in America’s so-called Colour Revolution that is being carefully orchestrated in Latin America and elsewhere. It’s the ‘same old, same old’ as folks might say.

No great changes in Michael Parker’s writing journey still. I’ve decided to re-write my latest story but still can’t get myself organised. My days get filled with other things and this gives me reasons for not getting on with my research and pen pushing. I find myself reading reports on South American summits and wondering why everyone else is crazy except me. My book sales have tapered off, but that’s no big deal really. I will be putting ROSELLI’S GOLD on a free promo for two days at the end of this month. Next month it will be A COVERT WAR, followed later by NORTH SLOPE (newly edited!). I expect that to lift my sales somewhat. I am still waiting to hear from Harlequin with respect to the planned paperback imprint of THE BOY FROM BERLIN. That’s something else to look forward to.

Next big thing on the horizon is tomorrow: we take the cat to the vet for his yearly vaccination. That's a saga in itself. Always fraught with pain and suffering (that’s me and Pat). The cat doesn’t like it either and lets us know it. And we have to clean up after him. Why do we have pets?