As mentioned in my last blog, I’ll soon be releasing my novel-length book called Tales from Corny Cove (subtitled ‘Life in a Cornish paradise… What could possibly go wrong?’).
If you’ll remember, the tales revolve around Henry & Margaret, who move down to Cornwall (in Britain) to run a campsite, only to discover that ‘living the dream’ brings a few nightmares along the way.
Each tale in the book is over 10,000 words long; and in this blog, I thought I’d give you a sneak peek at the first one, called Beastly Encounters. In this extract, Henry comes to grief with one of their jealous, brutish campers – a muscle-bound military man called Mr Botherham…
The next morning, Henry was sweeping up not far from the outdoor swimming pool. It was a beautiful spot surrounded by hedges and bushes, but he hadn’t managed to give it a decent clean since the Easter crowds had left, and was keen to brush up the leaves that were always blowing into the area.
From a distance, Henry noticed a small movement in one of the bushes. It was a bird, but it was too far away to tell which one. Being an avid birdwatcher, he often had his lightweight binoculars strapped round his neck for just such an occasion. He eagerly picked them up for a closer look.
Meanwhile, Mr and Mrs Botherham had decided to go for a dip in the swimming pool. What better way to relax on holiday – especially as the poolside was quiet right now? Barry Botherham normally stayed close to his wife, but he’d forgotten the tanning lotion and went back to their chalet to get it. He liked nothing more than smearing it all over his wife’s voluptuous body knowing that other men could only watch, stare and drool with pitiful envy. And now that he’d paid for her to have that boob job she wanted, she looked just like Pamela Anderson in Bay Watch, he thought.
Mrs Botherham was slipping off her clothing on the poolside, revealing her bikini swimsuit beneath. She folded her things neatly and slipped into the pool, wading in the shallow end, keeping her permed blond curls above the water.
As Barry Botherham returned to the pool enclosure, what could he see a short way off but the site owner, Mr Mooney, looking through his binoculars – and pointing them in the very direction of his wife? He hadn’t been happy with the way he’d looked at his wife the day before – he’d even warned him to keep away from her. But there was no getting away from it this time: the little weed was definitely ogling his missus, getting a nice little close-up through his binoculars.
Barry’s stride grew heavy and his muscles tensed as he made a beeline for Henry. The dirty old pervert’s tongue was hanging half way out of his mouth and he was cooing with excitement. And all in plain sight!
Wrapped up in his birdwatching, Henry was oblivious to Mr Botherham who was now standing at his side, seething. Gradually, he became aware of laboured breathing beside him and realised he was not alone.
“Hello, Mr Botherham!” Henry said. But Mr Botherham didn’t look pleased and Henry’s friendly smile began to fade. Mr Botherham didn’t look like the type who would be pleased by much anyway, Henry had decided.
“Like starin’ at birds, do you?” asked Mr Botherham, his blood pressure rising.
“Ooh, yes, a lovely pair of tits here… wouldn’t you say?” asked Henry, gesturing in the direction of the birds with his binoculars. “Haven’t seen any of those for ages,” he added, creasing his forehead at Mr Botherham’s rigid demeanour.
“I bet you haven’t,” said Mr Botherham gruffly, craning his neck round slowly and following Henry’s hand. But all he saw was his wife splashing about in the pool, the innocent victim of Henry’s sordid depravity. How could the old man be so blatantly pervy? He read about people like Henry in the paper every day and they disgusted him. One thing was for certain: he’d teach the dirty old bugger a lesson and knock him into the ground like a tent-peg.
Why on earth was Mr Botherham so red-faced? Henry wondered, turning his head in the direction of the birds he’d spotted and looking quizzical. It was only then that it began to dawn on him why Mr Botherham was so upset. Oh no… NO! he thought.
“No, I was looking at… Err… Long-tailed tits!” he said in a panic, pointing with his binoculars. He felt totally intimidated. How on earth could he hope to placate the man? Every word he uttered just seemed to rouse Mr Botherham’s anger even more.
“Cute little things,” Henry added with a nervous laugh, realising he’d run out of luck. Mr Botherham was not convinced, and grabbed Henry up by the scruff of his collar.
The last thing Henry remembered before things went black was a large muscular fist heading towards his face.
[NO MORE PEEKING! END OF EXTRACT!]
The Tales from Corny Cove book will be out soon in digital and in print. If you missed the last blog and want to find out more about it, feel free to visit the dedicated info page on my Foley’s Forum website, where there’s a summary of each tale.
The new BUZZ page mentioned in the last blog is on its way and will appear shortly on my website.
In the meantime, if you haven’t done so already, why not subscribe to this blog to get up-to-the minute details on the Tales from Corny Cove book? Just click on the button in the panel to the right that says “I’m keen! Sign me up!”