I seem to smell beer!

I’m really getting into the swing of my new book… progress is slow, I admit, but it is steady. I’m managing about eight hundred words a day which isn’t too bad at all – I’m sure the pace will pick up so maybe, if all goes well, the first draft will be finished by the autumn.

This book, which may now be called The Dog and Pineapple, is set in the 1950’s so there are lots of things I have to be aware of – not just what people are wearing, but what they are eating and drinking, and the fact that so many people smoked, and so many people wore hats… and lots of other little things – heating water in a kettle on a gas or electric ring, men calling men by their surnames, telephone calls going through an operator, people leaving school at fourteen… However, I don’t want all that historical detail t get between the story and the reader. I haven’t once said the year it is said, nor referred yet to any national event which might pinpoint it.

It’s very early days in terms of the story… but here is a little extract… Mike Scott is called in to see his boss, Mr Bannister, editor of the Easthope Bugle:

“I seem to smell beer, Scott!”
Mike took a deep breath and concentrated. “Research Mr. Bannister, research. I have an idea for a new column, ‘Down Your Way’, ‘Pubs and Pints’, ‘Your Local Locale’, ‘What’s Yours- Mine’s a Pint’…”
“And this research necessitated consumption of ale, did it, well that won’t be going on expenses!” Mr. Bannister looked at Mike over his spectacles; it was pointless him doing so , he was as blind as a bat without them, he would see Mike as a blurry blob, but he seemed to think it showed disapproval.
“Not at all, Mr. Bannister, I was in the Dog and Pineapple and I was drinking dandelion and burdock all evening. I did however have a slight collision with a local hero home on leave who managed to pour his drink down my jacket.”
This was not so much an exaggeration as a downright lie. Adam had told him that the drunk by the fireplace was a local lad, now living in the Channel Islands. He was back to see his family and friends… which explained the number of drinks he had been bought. He had served with honour in Korea, but no one should ask him about that..
Mike’s head was pounding but he persevered with his Down At Your Local idea, mentioning Scotch and port and lemon, Scotch and mild and bitter, Scotch and milk stout…
“Very well, Scott, but you need to cover the Town’s Women’s Guild music and movement festival, and I need to drink my tea…”
… with a hefty slug of Scotch as soon as Mike left the room, no doubt… Mike took details of the Town’s Women’s whatever it was a doing some festival or other and retreated.
He retreated to his desk and burrowed in his drawer to find his tin of Andrew’s Liver Salts and his bottle of aspirin. In the kitchenette he took his cup from the designated hook and poured water from the kettle onto a couple of aspirin then added the Andrews… vile enough to do him good, or maybe see off the headache and quell the ominous discomfort in his stomach.
Maybe he would do better with bitter, not mild, but just the very thought made him feel queasy… Maybe he should give up drinking… No, that was unthinkable… and Adam would rib him no end.

Here is a link to my other books – let me know what you think of them!

https://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_c_1_6?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=lois+elsden&sprefix=lois+e%2Caps%2C143&crid=12KMUP0T0KHZ2