Can Everton Jones find out how his father stole Emperor Bokassa’s diamonds and, more importantly, where he hid them; before the world and his brother get there first?
Click on the picture link in the sidebar to read an extract of my first novel, which was published by Paradise Press in August 2012.

Thursday, 28 April 2011

I fail to get myself blown up


This morning, I headed for the airport. I regretted leaving so early, as I had an enormous wait, but at least I got on the plane with plenty of time and am now heading for Liverpool street on the Stanstead Express which thankfully runs until 1h30. But the big surprise was when I was asked by a guy at security where I'd come from. When I said "Marrakech" he asked me if I knew anything about the bomb. Bomb? what bloody bomb? Apparently whilst I was waiting patiently at the airport, someone blew up an upmarket tourist café at Jemâa al Fnaa killing 45 people. I didn't hear any loud bang, or get any whiff that anything untoward had happened. This explains the girl on the plane telling her friend she'd just had two messages on her phone from distressed relatives. I suppose they think she's in pieces all over the square. Actually, come to think of it, I suppose I'd better let my near and dear ones know I'm alright as well. I've had a Moroccan SIM card in my phone all this time. They might just be a tad concerned. (Picture from the independent, btw)

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