Monday, 30 April 2012

Every Step of the Way with Kit Domino

Please meet my wonderful guest, kit Domino, author of Every Step of the Way, and enjoy a slice of Bailey's Cheese cake, a glass of sherry and chuckling half hour!

Peggy: ‘Welcome to my little interview studio, I’ve had a Bailey’s Cheesecake made for you as I know you have soft spot for this scrummy cake. So whilst you’re tucking in, do tell me is Kit your real name?’
Kit: Cutting a large slice of cheesecake. ‘Thank you for this, I can smell there’s plenty of Baileys and I won’t ask who told you about my little weakness, because I can guess. But as for my name, it wasn’t the name I was given at birth, no, but it’s the one most people know me by. Even my own daughter calls me Kit. I’m an unusual person so the name has to fit the persona, wouldn’t you agree? Then again, I suppose I do write sagas among other genres, so I could equally have called myself Gertie Gusbucket. That’s what my husband christened me, but my agent didn’t like it. She’s not my agent now.’
Peggy: Laughing out loud. ‘Gertie Gusbucket, now that is a name to conjure up, I take it you’re still married to Mr G then?
Kit: Smiling. ‘He’s a dear really.’
Peggy: Shuffling pagers on her lap. ‘Sorry about this I’ve been told by my producer to have notes. They’re a waste of time as I get in such a muddle, but she won’t listen, anyway let’s press on. I know you love painting and thank you for this lovely one you’ve brought (* we could add a pic here to show off your paintings), but before I get to grips with your paint strokes, tell me about your new book.
Kit: Waving her arms at a camera man who is holding up the painting. ‘So pleased you like the painting. It will look lovely hanging on the wall over there. No, to the left a bit more. That’s it. Smashing. I said it would look lovely there.’
Peggy: Turning and admiring the painting. ‘You’re so right, now on to your book.’
Kit: ‘Arrh yes, my novel Every Step of the Way. It’s a rather poignant story of one young girl’s fight against the ways of the world when she’s left holding the baby, following a tragic incident during the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II. The book is more than just a story though. It’s an account of the social history of the 1950s, the culture, the youth, music, laws and bigotry of the era. We readily forget in today’s free society that things weren’t always as good, and people, especially women, had nowhere near the rights and freedom of choice that they have today.’
Peggy: Shacking her head. ‘Tell me about it, I can see we’re both from an era where we know just how lucky lasses are today. Do I take it that this is your first book?’
Kit: Eating a forkful of cheesecake. ‘This is just perfect. ‘But back to my book. It’s the first one to be published but it certainly isn’t the first I’ve written. There are several others waiting to be thrust out into the big wide world. I’d written two complete novels and one half-started before Every Step, and have written two and half since. Plus there’s several more spinning about in my head. Either that, or this sun is having an effect on me. I’m not used to it. Do you mind if I move further into the shade? Thanks. Oops, mind your bag, I nearly tripped over it. Silly me.’
Peggy: ‘It’s not usual for me to have my studio in such an exotic place, but a celeb I met some time ago invited me to their little pad in the sun, hence why I thought you’d enjoy it too. You’re a sun seeker, I can tell. It say’s here that you are published with ThornBerry Publishing, I hear there are a new company, what made you consider them?’
Kit: Placing her empty plate onto the low table top. ‘They’re purely an Ebook publisher, new, independent, innovative and wanting to change how things are done and perceived in the publishing world. It’s a concept I like. ThornBerry are different because they really care about the books they publish. They give authors whose work doesn’t fit in to the normal genre brackets a chance. The paperback version of Every Step of the Way is published through the Arts Council funded scheme, so I’ve got the best of both worlds. That doesn’t happen to me very often.’
Peggy: ‘I see you’ve enjoyed that cake, not something we had back in the 1950s, Victoria sponge if we were lucky, so why the 1950s? I admit to being glad that they are confined to history, well that was until I started reading your book?’
Kit: Pensive. ‘Good question, Peggy. It was more by chance than any other factor. I was writing a sequel to a contemporary paranormal and trying to find a way to get my characters to move away from London when I happened upon an article in a newspaper concerning the Great Smog of 1952 – and like a great fog lifting, there was the storyline. The paranormal emerged from the gloom reborn as a 1950s historical romance. A lot of good things were born in the 1950s (including me, ha ha). It was the time of Britain beginning again after World War II, of youth culture, the pop charts. It was story begging to be told.’
Peggy: Clapping her hands together. ‘Indeed I remember the decade well, though a tad older than you my dear, though not by much! Let’s see, the cover of your book is different than most I’ve seen and believe you me, I’ve seen a few over the decades, is it one of your paintings?’
Kit: Crossing her legs at the ankles. ‘My, you do have a keen eye, Peg. I didn’t’ want my book to look like all the rest of the sagas, certainly not Agas and clogs and shawls. The 1950s were not like that, least not the part where I came along, especially in London. And as my book is set in West London, it makes it rather different to the normal run of the mill sagas set in the East End. I wanted my book cover to be different. Unique. Many of my paintings are of bluebells, they’re the most popular I sell, there’s even several hanging up in somewhere in Germany, a reminder of good old Blighty for the owners. Bluebells play a part in Every Step, a pivotal part of the story.’
Peggy: Looking across at a small cabinet. ‘As we are this point in our chat, now the cheesecake has gone, let’s have a sherry and then tell me about why painting instead of something more useful like gardening?’
Kit: Reaching out. ‘I thought you were never going to offer. Chilled, is it, the sherry? I do like mine chilled. Thank you. Bottoms Up! Right, you were saying…? You’ve never seen my back garden, Peg, have you? I spend a great deal of time in it and not just reading and slurping G&Ts. Oh no. I do a fair bit of gardening too. I love flowers, and the birds that come there. No, my garden’s a riot of colour and sanctuary of tranquillity. But you can’t garden when it’s pi.. – oops nearly said something naughty there; this sherry’s loosened my tongue a bit. Here, you’re not trying to get me drunk, are you, to get me to tell you my real name? No, I love gardening, even weeding, but you can’t do it when it’s pouring with rain and blowing gales or during the winter. A fair weather gardener, me. So, when the weather’s inclement, I dons my beret, whip out the paints and brushes and do some creativity therapy landscape painting. It’s either that or shopping and I loathe shopping.  I haven’t been painting long, about four years now. I didn’t know I had it in me. That was how my name came about actually; there was already a well-known landscape artist in America who has my real name.’  
Peggy: Finishing the remains in her glass. ‘You know, we do have something in common, apart from our love of a tipple or two of sherry,  we are both connected with that lovely author’s group Famous Five Plus, I’m their celeb interviewer and you are a special Friend, I’m unsure what that means, you make cakes or something?’
Kit: A knowing look crossing her face. ‘Yup, you’ve got it one, Peggy! I bake cakes. Chocolate ones, sponge cakes, coffee cakes, Black Forest gateaux, fruitcakes. Well, I would, wouldn’t I, being an old fruitcake myself.  I was going to bring one along today for you, as a special treat, but my arms were full carrying that there painting. Seriously, it’s rather nice being a Friend. It makes you feel special. Mmm, this is a nice drop of sherry. Bit of a connoisseur on sherry, are you? Cheers, yes, I don’t mind if I do. Certainly nothing like that Emva Cream we had back in the 1950s.’ 

Every Step of the Way
Amazon com
Barnes & Noble
Web Site
Twitter: @KitDomino

Tuesday, 24 April 2012

A Chat with the Formidable Jane Leonard

Today I am talking with the amazing Jane Leonard from Magnolia House, a formidable woman in every way.

Peggy: Hugging her guest. ‘Hello Jane, thank you for taking the time to come along and see me. Do sit down.  I know it’s been a trying time for you of late. I’m talking her from experience because I know families can create mayhem and not stop to think of the consequences.’

Jane: Sitting down opposite Peggy. ‘Never a truer word said, Peggy. I only wish I could turn the clock back, but then don’t we all from time to time.’

Peggy: Reaching forward pours two cups of tea. ‘It’s a terrible business selling your house at the best of times, but after nearly five decades it must have been impossible. How on earth did you cope with all the stress?’

Jane: Sipping her tea. ‘I nearly didn’t. Have you any idea what it’s like having strangers traipsing through your house, poking their noses into your rooms, cupboards and personal effects? Not to mention all the measuring up that went on. I can tell you Peggy when that Estate Agent hammered into my lovely lawn that great big vulgar sign, For Sale; I thought it would be the end of me.’

Peggy: Pointing. ’I shudder at what you must have gone through, but there’s a box of tissues if you need them, don’t worry about me, I’m only glad you can now talk about it.’

Jane: Smiling. ‘That’s kind of you, but I’ve shed all the tears I’m going shed. I’ve been to hell and back in the last few years and I’ve learnt a lot about people and life. Oddly enough despite everything, I’ve come out of this a stronger person, I’m an old lady and I’ve lost almost everything I had, almost.’

Peggy: In a soothing tone. ‘I know it all happened after you gave half of your house to your only son.’

Jane: Reflecting. ‘It had happened years before my signing over half of Magnolia House. The events that took place back then I had at last come to terms with. It was one of the reasons I gave my Ben half of the house, it seemed the right thing to do, but who knows what the future holds for any of us? None of us do Peggy. I only wish I had coped better and then things might have been different.’

Peggy: Finishing her tea. ‘I admire you Jane, I’m not sure I would have coped so well.’

Jane: A rueful look crossing her face. ‘You know, I spiked their guns at first, but it was all in vain in the end, I was a fool and silly old fool at that.’

Peggy: Picking up a book and flicking through the pages. ‘I see Pauline Barclay has written a book about your Magnolia House. What do you think about it?’

Jane: Smiling. ‘I’m glad you’ve a copy, you see it’s not just about me. It’s also about the sale of my lovely home, Magnolia House. Pauline has included the people and families who form part of the events that took place during that time and if I say, rightly so. As you know, I had to sell Magnolia House, I had no choice and in the end it changed my life. It also changed the lives of the people who were part of the selling chain. Looking back it was momentous, a lot of tears where shed, many happy as well as very sad.’

Peggy: ‘Are you bitter about having to sell Magnolia House?’

Jane: Biting her bottom lip. ‘I was at first, I was so angry I couldn’t think straight, I felt betrayed and dreadfully let down, but everything happens for a reason, so I’ve been told, and on reflection it does.’

Wednesday, 18 April 2012

My Chat with Jesamiah Acorn, a Real Pirate!

You have no idea how excited I am, but I have a real pirate sitting in my interview room, no other than the devilsh, Jesamiah Acorne. To help him feel at home, I've had a barrel of rum brought in, so do help yourself to a cup or two as you sit down and meet my pirate!

Peggy: Staring up in wonderment. ‘Jesamiah Acorne, I presume. My my you’ve taken my breath away in that amazing outfit, I’ve never met a pirate before, so do tell me what do you have to do to have such an exciting job?’

Jesamiah: Dabs at the several stains on his waistcoat, touches one finger to three-corned hat. ‘Mornin’ Ma’am. I ain’t exactly certain you’ll be too impressed about my job, though I don’t count it as a job. It’s more like a way of life, really, a life of freedom on the high seas. I’m a pirate – leastways, I were. I’ve sort of retired now, since I accepted the King’s Amnesty. I seem to get into as many scrapes though, one way or another. Not sure how I managed it, but I have ended up as an undercover spy for said King – that’s fat King George of Hanover by the way.

Peggy: ‘Mmm It seems to me that pirating isn’t what it used to be. Pity! Now is your boat a big one and does it have any guns and oars?

Jesamiah: Rolling his eyes in horror, hands Peggy a picture. ‘Ship. She’s a ship. Anything with three masts or more is a ship. She is called Sea Witch. Her deck length is 135 feet, and the height of her main mast is 130 feet. She is 32 feet wide, at her widest point. And aye, she has twenty guns, but not oars, she is a Tall Ship – she has canvas sails – about 13,000 square feet of sail to be precise.’

Peggy: ‘Putting it like that, it does sound impressive. Now, I’ve heard that you are quite a scoundrel and a rogue, but is that all an act to snare a fair maiden?’

Jesamiah: ‘Me? A scoundrel? Who told you that? I’m an honourable pirate I am! It’s me good looks that attracts the wenches.’

Peggy: Raising an eyebrow in disbelief. ‘If you say so, but I’ve read your biography and let’s say, you spin a good yarn, if not a fib or two! Putting that aside for now, tell me about some of the adventures you’ve had, but please leave out any gory details, I hate blood.’

Jesamiah: Winking at Peggy.  ‘Well I ain’t too keen on blood m’self. Not if it’s mine, anyway. Some of m’adventures eh? Well, I ran away from home before I was fifteen – Pa had died and let’s just say I didn’t get on with the ape who were me half-brother. I joined up with a friend of Pa’s, who happened to be a pirate, and I’ve been at sea ever since. I made a fortune salvaging gold from some sunken Spanish treasure ships, acquired some more from a cellar in Nassau’s fort…’

Peggy: Interrupting: ‘…Excuse me, as mentioned earlier, I’ve have read your biography and I believe, salvage and acquire’ read stole….!

Jesamiah: Waving a hand to dismiss Peggy’s interruption. ‘I helped find a lost spy on Hispaniola – and played a part in the Island’s population raising a rebellion against the Spanish Dons. Then I was instrumental in putting an end to that sea-slug Edward Teach – you’ll probably know him as Blackbeard.”

Peggy: ‘You know Jessamiah, I’m getting to like you, though you’ve a bigger imagination than your creator, Helen Hollick. I know for a fact, you have been mixed up with various thugs, including an annoyed Dutchman – the rightful owner of the Sea Witch, several women and rather a lot of rum. So now we’ve got that out in the open, What about treasure, do you ever find any?’

Jesamiah: ‘You’re a hard woman Peg, but I’m glad I’m making an impression on you and as I said, I find quite a bit laying around here and there – you know them Spanish are a funny lot. They pile all their gold, silver, precious gems, barrels of indigo and ambergris in a warehouse, then not notice when someone else walks in and transfers all of it to a ship,’ laughs. ‘Pirates don’t bury their treasure by the way, that was a false rumour started by old Ben Gun when ‘e told ‘is Treasure Island tale to that writer, Stevenson.’

Peggy: Laying her hands in her lap. ‘Let’s steer away from your pilfering and concentrate on your womanising. I’d like to know a little about the women in your life, because if I say so myself, you are very sexy looking pirate, no doubt I’m past my prime for you?’

Jesamiah: Chortling. ‘No woman with a smile as pretty as yourn, darlin’, will ever be past ‘er prime. But alas, m’wenchin’ days are over, though the widow Alicia Mereno don’t seem to realise it. Nor that red-haired Señora, Francesca nor…. aye, well, I’m a respectable married man now; m’wife is Tiola - you say it as Tee-o-la, short an’ sweet, like she is. Tiola is a midwife and a healer, she is very beautiful and is the love of m’life. Apart from m’ship.”

Peggy: ‘And does this Tee-o-la, pronounce your name the same way, Fib-ee-er? Not that is matters, I’ve got your measure, so we’ll move on to something more likely to be nearer the truth. Helen Hollick, I believe is the one you have set sail with on three occasions and from your log, you’ve had her write three books, Sea Witch, Pirate Code and Bring It Close, so what swashbuckling adventures have you got install for her in the future?’

Jesamiah:  ‘Oh you mean my biographer? Aye I set her a-scribblin’ away in the hold, keeping a log of the Sea Witch Voyages. I b’lieve she is writing Ripples In The Sand at the moment – m’adventures when I took a hold full of tobacco (legal, not stolen stuff) to Devon in England. It was m’first legitimate cargo as a merchant trader, but I managed to get mixed up with a band of smugglers who were also Jacobite Rebels. Got into a lot of trouble with that lot.’

Peggy: A secretive look on her face. ‘Now I’ve heard in whispers that your wife, Tiola, is not just a midwife and healer – she is also a White Witch. In Ripples In The Sand, she has to do battle with Tethys, the Goddess Spirit of the Sea – who wants Jesamiah for herself. Tiola has to look back in time to discover why Tethys wants him – and why she hates Tiola so much.’

Jesamiah: Jumping up. ’Strike a light, how in God’s name did you find that out? You’ve been sneaking out to talk to her in the hold penning Ripples In The Sand. Just wait ‘till I get back to my ship.’

Peggy: ‘Please do sit down, you’re far too tall to have me looking up at you and rest assured your secret is safe with me. But before you run off to deal with Ms Hollick , I don’t suppose you’d like a new crew member on your boat, sorry ship to accompany you, I could easily be a damsel in distress?’

Jesamiah: Dropping back down in his seat, shakes his head. ‘I think you’ll find it's knights in armour who rescue distressed damsels, not pirates – we’re usually the ones doin’ the distressin’. But I’ve always got room for a pretty wench ma’am! Can you cook? M’steward, Finch, is a curmudgeonly old basket who mixes dust and rats’ dropping in the ground coffee to make it last longer, and excels at burning stuff. It might be nice to ‘ave a good cook aboard, especially now you knows me secret.’

Details on Helen Hollick and her Sea Witch adventures:

Sea Witch: 9781906236601
Bring it Close: 9781906236625
Pirate Code: 9781906236632

Published by SilverWood Books –

Covers and trailers designed by Avalon Graphics


Tuesday, 17 April 2012

I'm Interviewing Jessica Avery!

It's been one of those weeks, either nothing or panic!
I'm sure you know what I mean. On the interview front, I've managed to slip in two. One, in my opinion a wayward young woman and the other a very naughty pirate. The latter you will meet later this week. However, do pop along and see if you agree with me about Jessica Avery, from Torn. We are over at Famous Five Plus, they've given me a small interview studio, and I do mean small.

Hurry along now as I'm anxious to hear what you think of her! Famous Five Plus

Thursday, 12 April 2012

Sassy, Sexy, Jordie Lass, Molly Parker

Today, I'm over at the amazing Famous Five Plus talking to the sassy, sexy Gordie lass, Molly Parker from Too Much Trouble in Paradise. What a girl she is! Do come on over and meet her, I promise you you'll have a giggle and I'll make sure the sherry and babycham are a plenty!

Wednesday, 4 April 2012

The Gorgeous, Devilish PI Dylan Scott

I am so delighted to meet the the gorgeous, but devilish PI Dylan Scott.
Do sit down, make yourself comfortable and join us!

Peggy: Smiling as she appraises her latest guest. ‘Nice to meet you, Dylan. Do sit down and make yourself comfortable. I’d order you a pint, but as it is only 11am, you’ll have to settle for a pot of tea. I know you’re partial to a drink.’

Dylan: A cheeky smile twists his lips and makes his eyes sparkle. ‘Peggy, it’s wonderful to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you. I was expecting to see some old biddy with a flat chest and thick ankles but just look at you. You’re so glamorous. My mother could take a few lessons from you. So - yes, I do drink tea. I’d prefer beer, or whisky, but tea will do. As for the time of day, I think you’ll find the sun’s over the yard arm somewhere, Peggy.’

Peggy: Shuffling in her chair. ‘You’re probably right, but I do believe that was a wink? No, don’t answer that. Answer this instead. Is it a thorny issue to talk about your sacking from the police force?’

Dylan: Crossing legs, settling back in his chair and nodding his head. ‘Not at all because it gives me chance to tell people my side of the story. I was a detective sergeant, a highly respected member of the police force, until, one night, I had to arrest a bloke who had form as long as the M1. He didn’t take kindly to it and I ended up in hospital. He then had the gall to accuse me of using excessive force. Now, anyone with half a brain would take no notice of a piece of scum like him. The force, however, was having one of its clean-up sessions. They wanted to show the likes of you, Peggy, that complaints made against their officers were taken seriously. Result? I was kicked off the force.’

Peggy: Shaking head in disbelief.  ‘So I heard. And, tell me, is prison as much fun as we’re meant to believe it is on TV?’

Dylan: A sardonic smile crosses his face. ‘It’s a laugh a minute. Well, so long as you don’t mind people spitting in your food before you’re supposed to eat it. But hey, that’s water under the bridge. It’s best forgotten.’

Peggy: Leaning forward. ‘You run around in a flash car, a Morgan. I’ve no idea why someone in your position would want to be so conspicuous, but maybe after this interview we can go for a spin. I’ve never had the pleasure of stepping on the running boards of an old sports car.’

Dylan: Pulling a face and uncrossing his legs. ‘It isn’t flash, it’s a beautifully designed classic. It’s been called worse though. One woman described it as pretty, for God’s sake. It’s a 1956 Morgan. I have to agree that a Morgan in Daytona Yellow isn’t the best vehicle for surveillance operations, and it has caused me a few problems in the past, but I get by. And you know, you’re always welcome, Peggy. We’ll go for a spin, maybe call in at this great pub I know... ‘

Peggy: Smiling. ‘Lovely, but don’t distract me just yet. Now this private detective malarkey sounds to me like you want to poke your nose back into police business. Clearly you’ve not learnt much. But anyway, tell me what it’s all about.’

Dylan: Casting his gaze across the room he notices racks of books, but can’t see any relating to Shirley Wells’s series, shrugs his shoulders and smiles as he returns his attention back to Peggy. ‘I’d never thought about it as a real job, but needs must. When I came out of prison, I had no job and no money and then, as you’ve probably heard, my wife chucked me out. When someone who’d heard about my police work asked me to look into the disappearance of her mother, I had no choice but to say yes. It was either that or starve. Being a PI is okay though. I can break rules, you see. You wouldn’t be able to even lift the Police Manual, Peggy, but me? I can get away with a lot more. I still have a couple of friends on the force who’ll help me out now and again too.’

Peggy: Rolling her eyes in mock surprise. ‘I know there is a woman in your life. Having said this I believe there are two. Your mother’s one of them. Now do tell me about her. She sounds fascinating, if a bit crazy.’

Dylan: Laughing loudly. ‘Crazy doesn’t even begin to sum up my mother. As a child of the sixties, she travelled the world smoking joints and chanting “Love and Peace, man”. She slept with - well, I’m not really sure how many men she slept with, but she doesn’t have a clue who my father is. I don’t suppose we’ll ever know. She still smokes joints. She drives me insane. I keep hoping some man will sweep her off her feet - and out of my hair - but there’s nothing doing. I don’t suppose there’s a man out there daft enough to take her on.
Then there’s my wife, Bev. I can’t say too much about her though because she’s a fan of yours, Peggy, and she’ll be reading this. She was last heard cackling with laughter and asking “why would the lovely Peggy who interviews celebrities waste time on you?”. Enough said.’

Peggy: Leaning forward and patting Dylan’s knee. ‘I’m glad she’s a fan of mine. How wonderful. Now, having read all about your investigations in those lovely books by Shirley Wells, I can say, they are very good. Well, I’ll go further and say they are a pretty damn good read. Now keep that to yourself. I don’t want my followers thinking I’m going soft because you are such a good looking man, giving me the odd wink and the promise of a spin in your car. You know I could be quite adventurous if not a tad dangerous if I was a little younger!’

Dylan: ‘Nothing wrong with age, Peggy and I can tell you’re a wise woman. Some people think that Shirley Wells is responsible for those stories. She’s not. All she does is say “Hey, Dylan, I’ve had this great idea”. Believe me, those words send a chill through my heart. She hasn’t had a great idea at all. All she has is some half-baked notion that I have to tell her won’t work at all. So she sulks. She has a couple of glasses of wine too many and comes up with another idea. I tell her that won’t work either. She has more wine and then demands to know why I can’t improvise. She’s clueless. Totally clueless. If it wasn’t for me, there would be no books.’

Peggy: Chuckling. ‘Now that sounds like a good title for a new book, Totally Clueless. Suggest that the next time she samples the grape stuff! Anyway, I’m not going to give anything away about what you’ve really got up to over the last couple of years, readers can go and buy their own copies, but having grappled with murder, people going missing and others jailed whether guilty or not, what can I expect from your next case and, more to the point, when can I hope to read all about it?’

Dylan: In a conspiratorial tone. ‘As you know, Peggy, Shirley thinks it’s great fun to send me to the back of beyond to investigate cases. When I say the back of beyond, I mean Dawson’s Clough in Lancashire. Have you ever been? It rains. Truly, it rains all the time. And when it’s not raining, it’s snowing. But one day, out of the blue, she said to me “You’re going on a cruise, Dylan.” Great, I thought. I pictured myself getting suntanned on deck, sipping a long cold drink beneath a Caribbean sun - Oh, no. Shirley was sending me cruising the Norwegian coastline high above the Arctic Circle. In November. Can you believe that? I think it was her idea of a joke (she doesn’t have a great sense of humour). Or perhaps I’d upset her. That’s not difficult, I can tell you. These author types are so touchy, aren’t they, Peggy? Anyway, off I had to go. I thought the boredom would kill me. It probably would have if the woman in the cabin next to mine hadn’t died. The result of that particular adventure is DEAD CALM, a novella this time, and it will be coming to a device near you in June.

‘Anyway, never mind all that. I have to say, Peggy, that you’re the first sensible woman I’ve met in ages. Now then, are we going for that pint? I mean, that spin in the Morgan?’

You can learn more about Dylan by visiting Shirley Wells at: