Dear friends, if you like a good chuckle, dim-witted heroes, and larger-than-life villains, then you'll love this fascinating series. On Wednesdays and Sundays, I’m blogging nibble-sized chunks of new ‘Life in the Clouds’ stories. You can check in regularly and read them for free, or wait to buy the entire story when published.
#2: Enchanter on the Roof ® James Field. Part 42
In the last post: Bert tore at the scaffolding. When the handcuff keys bounced off his head, his anger vanished…
Bert placed his foot over the handcuff keys and whistled a tuneless ditty. He stole a peek in all directions. Nobody hung about. The morning sun still hadn't lifted above the house roofs and many of The Stable’s guests snored in bed. Most of the youngsters had been at the disco last night, partying until the early hours.
His frustration mounted again, causing his brow to flush. The disco and Dick Charmer had triggered the start of all his troubles. Until now, luck had been in Dick Charmer's favour, but that was about to change.
A few workers stalked about, tending farm animals and readying the numerous majestic horses for the day’s work, but they were busy elsewhere, mostly out of sight.
He kicked the keys to where he could reach them and bent to pick them up. He wasn't as nimble-fingered as Dick Charmer, but thirty seconds later he had both hands free.
Desperate to relieve himself, and scarcely able to walk with his knees clamped together, he hurtled through his house and made straight for the outside toilet at the back.
His two black Alsatians followed him out and awaited their orders, panting with excitement. He'd left the door open, his bulk filling the whole cubical. “Ready for a chase, Chums?” he called over his shoulder.
The dogs tensed and woofed an eager yes.
Bert led them to Dick Charmer’s house at the other end of the terrace, entered, and found the pile of clothes he’d been wearing. He let the Alsatians sniff them and snapped his arms out, pointing the direction Dick Charmer had taken. “Find him, Chums. I know you ain't had breakfast yet, nor have I, but don’t kill and eat him until I get there. Go!”
To be continued…
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A Man Called Ove by Fredrik Backman
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
At long last I got around to reading about Ove, pronounced Oover. Brilliant story: amusing, heartbreaking, and so true to life. My main problem with the book is that I think they modelled Ove on me! When my wife read it, I heard repeatedly, "That's just like you."
Minus half a star for shoddy translation in places (from Swedish).
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James at Goodreads