Certificate PG

Recent events in the wider world had provided Kevin with a wealth of material for his blog and he had managed to produce around two months’ worth of content for his blog. Which was one of the reasons he thought it was time to end his self-imposed exile, the other one being Emma’s return from Greece the day before. He stepped out into the sunlight to find the postman, Frank Worthing, walking up the path. “Morning Mr. Riddett” He said “So you’re not dead then”

Downshire is a relatively small English county but like a pocket battleship it packs a lot in, a short but beautiful coastline, a channel port, the Ancient forests of Dancingdean and Pepperstock, the craggy ridges and manmade lakes of the Pepperstock Hills National Park, the rolling hills of the Downshire Downs, the beautiful Finchbottom Vale and farm land as far as the eye can see from the Trotwood’s and the Grace’s in the south to the home of the Downshire Light infantry, Nettlefield, and their affluent neighbour’s, Roespring and Tipton in the North and it’s in leafy Great Trotwood where our story begins.

Knock-knock, three times a knock. Pulling on socks; straining to look at the clock. It's stopped! Fumbling at my pocket, I locate my 'phone and check...

A steel fingered spider swept along the narrow walk, Cranking, breaking, a choir sound in grim tasting dust, Making a venonmous host, feeding a line...