Featured Book – Danny’s Story – Pt. 3

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Chapter 3 – A rose by any other name

Danny’s first meeting with Mr Rose went well. Suzie saw to that. She dressed him in his best shirt and most conservative jeans and brushed his hair back behind his ears. She couldn’t do anything about its length but she could make him look as tidy as possible and as least hippyish as possible.

It was a bravura performance that Cheryl put on. She breezed in to Mr Rose’s room to pay the rent. All Danny had to do was keep quiet and nod and smile as required, as instructed.

Mr Rose was short and portly with grey shiny hair, spectacles, grey flannels, a check shirt and maroon cardigan. He seemed a friendly, pleasant man who was still fairly active for a man in his eighties. They went in and sat down while Mr Rose got out his scruffy book and pen to note down the payment.

Danny took time to look around the room, taking in the oil paintings on the walls and the amazing partition that separated the rooms. It was made up of stained glass depicting a rural scene with rolling hills and a sun shining down with bright yellow rays. Danny found it mesmerising. The sun was low and shining through the front window and made the whole four panels glow with colour. He could not stop staring at it.

‘This is my friend Danny Champion,’ Suzie said in way of introduction. She had arranged herself on the chair with legs neatly crossed and a beaming smile, commanding the room with her confident manner.

Danny nodded and Mr Rose formally shook his hand, scrutinising him with a knowing look that made Danny feel uncomfortable. Suzy’s plan seemed a bit flimsy to him. He was sure that Mr Rose was not going to fall for it.

‘He’s staying with us for a few weeks,’ Suzie enthused, leaning forward towards Mr Rose appealingly.

It seemed to go over Mr Rose’s head. It was of little interest. He was carefully filling in the ledger. Then he looked up.

‘That’s my work,’ Mr Rose explained, nodding towards the stain-glass work. He’d noticed the way Danny had been studying it. He’d been taking it all in. Danny was to find out that he was a lot sharper than Suzie gave him credit for. ‘I used to be a stain-glass window maker. That’s all best quality glass.’

Danny nodded. ‘I can see that,’ he said. ‘It is beautiful.’

Mr Rose nodded and closed the ledger. He smiled and seemed friendly enough. ‘That was after I was a tailor. I was a tailor for forty years.’

Danny nodded.

‘Me and Charlotte are going away for a few weeks,’ Suzie went on to explain. ‘Danny is looking after the flat for us.’

Mr Rose raised his eyebrows and Danny’s heart fluttered. This was the moment he pulled the plug on it. ‘How can he be staying with you then?’ Mr Rose asked, putting the ledger back on the shelf.

‘What I mean is that he is looking after the place for us while we’re away,’ Suzie replied without getting at all flustered. Danny flashed her a look of admiration. He was becoming desperate for that flat.

‘That’s good,’ Mr Rose said, pursing his lips. ‘I don’t like a flat to be empty. It encourages vermin.’ He gave Danny a knowing look which caused him to squirm again. No babies, no pets and no hippies was going round Danny’s head. What was the man thinking? What did he make of the long hair?

Danny nodded his agreement. ‘Empty flats are not good,’ he said lamely.

Mr Rose looked him over again with a stern expression. It was obvious to Danny that he wasn’t falling for this; not one little bit. He was weighing things up. He was going to tell Danny he could not stay. But he eventually looked away and seemed content to roll with it. He was letting it go.

Danny was in, at least temporarily.

This Week’s Featured Novel: Goofin’ – Pt. 1

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I wrote this many back many circles of the sun when everything seemed young and fresh, full of wonder and possibility. I wanted to capture something of the Jack Kerouac Beat ‘On The Road’ vibe, but also the sixties vibe too. Of course, you never get close.

Those vibes have dissipated like a spray of perfume in a gale.

Goofin’

With the Cosmic Freaks

By

Opher Goodwin


Dedication

This book is dedicated to Pete Smith, Jules, Praub, Pete Ayley, Janet, John, Bag, Tony, Maria, John, Nick, Lou, Rich, Carl, Tim, Billy, Ro, Erica, John Smith, Hat, Oz, Ginny, Bob, Ken, Glenys, Mutt, Booker, Lanky, Chalky, Snitch, Snatch, Wanky, Pussy, Jeff Evans, Gary Turp, John Lindsey, Jack, Dave, Roy Harper, Carol, Dan, Janet, John, Kathy, Tobes, Dave, Vicky, Rich, Lou, Eduardo, Bali, Liz, and all those other heroes of my youth who rocked my world!!

Where are you now? Those days live forever!

Preface

This is the ultimate sixties book – an ‘On the Road’ for the British Underground with all its sex, drugs, dreams and music; those times of crazy people high on life and mad for experience – when anything was possible.

It captures that idealistic naïve impossibility permeated with vitality and careering love and dreams, the wild rush for adventure without a thought for the future because it was going to last forever.

– Seemingly forever changes!

It spans continents as it trips its way through time, space and mind in a mad rush to discover life and experience or die trying.

Now was all there was and it had to burn, burn, burn or it was dead.

In the days of dope and poetry, where the world was ripe for changing, there was a mystical buzz of unity. In the shadow of an establishment that stood for war, prejudice, work, isolation and the rat-race with all it’s status seeking power games, racism and slow death signified by getting the lines straight on your lawn, Jack’s cackling laughter and bright eyes, death-defying madness and care-free attitude showed there was an alternative.

Maybe dope was never enough and when we grow up it is time to put aside childish things where they are confined to our dreams and memories. But somewhere out there Jack still lives where it is real.

We did change the world!Opher 16.8.2014

Featured Book – Danny’s Story – The Blurb

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This is Danny’s story and how he stumbled upon a place to live and friendships that saved his life. This is the story of a house that became a home. It is the story of an assortment of desperate people who were all lost and some became found. It is a real story of how people who are worthless and have no respect for themselves came to form a community. It is a story that tells us that there is a reason for everything; that chance works in strange ways and that often salvation appears out of the strangest circumstance. This is the story of Danny Champion.

This book took fifty years in the making.

NOW AVAILABLE!!   Only £2.06 to buy!

My new novel – Danny’s Story – is now available in the Amazon stores on Kindle!

Kindle Edition
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For the princely sum of just  –

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£6.86 1 New from £6.86                                  You could own the new Opher Goodwin classic.

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Featured Book – Nosedive – A Sci-Fi novel – The Cover

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I used this painting for the front cover. I painted it back in 1972. My friend Pete Smith drew two lots of the image. I painted one in blues and this one in yellow and red. I liked the image of the spaceman and the reflected alien. It appealed to me.

This was the painting I used for the cover.

If perchance you would like to purchase one of my books you can do so from any Amazon site. The links are below:

In the UK:

My author pages:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Opher-Goodwin/e/B00MSHUX6Y/ref=sr_tc_2_0?

If you wish to purchase Nosedive:

In the USA:

My Author Pages:

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If you wish to purchase Nosedive:

Featured Book – Nosedive – A Sci-Fi novel – The Blurb

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Human civilisation has miraculously survived for another three hundred years into the future. Technology has blossomed and intergalactic travel is now feasible. This has enabled contact with other races living on planets nearby within the same spiral arm of the Milky Way.
Despite all these advances humanity has not learnt much from its mistakes. There are still two blocs with different political ideologies vying for supremacy and threatening to destroy each other.
There is still the same power madness, greed and selfish exploitation that has prevented mankind from reaching its potential. The only major stride forward has been the abandonment of primitive superstition. There are no longer religious beliefs to shackle people’s minds.
The need for rare metals has meant that the asteroid belt has become a major resource to exploit. Itinerant prospectors make a living on this new frontier out on the Rim and occasionally make a killing by discovering an ore-rich asteroid.
One such prospector by the name of Hansim Olasson is attacked by a skilled assassin. Another, by the name of Miken Thorsby, discovers a place he would like to call home.
A strange alien craft with hugely advanced technology comes into the system from out in the vast intergalactic wastelands. The ship is viewed as a threat and could destabilise the fragile balance of power.
What is going on and how will it all pan out?

If perchance you would like to purchase one of my books you can do so from any Amazon site. The links are below:

In the UK:

My author pages:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Opher-Goodwin/e/B00MSHUX6Y/ref=sr_tc_2_0?

If you wish to purchase Nosedive:

In the USA:

My Author Pages:

http://www.amazon.com/Opher-Goodwin/e/B00MSHUX6Y/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1464345221&sr=1-2-ent

If you wish to purchase Nosedive:

Featured Book – Nosedive – A Sci-Fi novel – an extract

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Chapter 1 – Hansim and the Shaddock

 

Even as I rolled off the stool and hit the floor I felt the sting of the laser pulse as it seared the side of my face. I didn’t stop to question it. I was already moving. Fortunately it did not come into my mind to indignantly stand up and point out that somebody was making a big mistake; that they had got the wrong man. It had been close, too damn close.

I broke left, anticipating the next shot, my brain still buzzed with the hiss of the laser bolt coupled with that blinding flash and stinging electric burn. I couldn’t afford to let the pain and dazzle slow me down. Someone wanted to turn highly valued parts of myself into severely scorched meat. Fortunately my endocrine and autonomic nervous systems appeared to be operating in complete harmony and had hi-jacked my consciousness to take over my thought process and body functions. It is quite astounding how fast one can move and how quickly your brain can operate when someone is aiming lethal force in your direction. You moved without even thinking. Some call that reflex. It’s not really. It’s merely fast response. I am lucky in having a gene combination that seems to enable me to react spontaneously when, among other things, someone wants to fry my brain tissue. That’s because I have grown quite attached to that particular organ. In fact, on reflection, I prefer to keep all my organs at an even temperature. That’s why I was tended to move first and think later.

Instantly my heart went into racing mode. My blood system shunted extra resources to my brain and senses. Amazingly some distant, analytical part of my neuronal cortex took control and directed my cerebellum to organise the necessary muscle groups to carry out its wishes without reference to the higher thought processes. They’d only slow things down. In my experience the analytical bits always decided to question their own decisions and this was no time for an internal debate. Glucose flooded through me and I could feel the burst of energy it provided. My senses were responding by searching for cover and the subconscious controller inside my head directed my body through a staccato flow of rolls, falls and jumps that it had somehow devised to throw off any potential assassin’s aim. I was impressed.

Throughout this complex set of manoeuvres this superior part of my consciousness remained aloof, as if standing back coolly calculating, assessing, collating and deciding as it weighed up the information and worked out the percentages. It was so much better at it than me. I was eternally grateful.

Throughout it all my mind was active. The size of the flash and hiss indicated the weapon had been on full beam. That meant someone was actually aiming to kill me. That was very disconcerting. The fact that I had not noticed them at all meant that they were good – too bloody good for comfort! If it had not been for that old seventh sense of mine I would now be a frizzled smoking mess slumped across the bar and that was something I had an inbuilt wish to avoid. I was lucky. Experience had demonstrated the correct response. When my skin prickled like that I did not stop to question or check – I moved! That’s what had at least temporarily saved me. That old seventh sense had got me through to this age and I had learnt to respect it. It took some exceptional person to get that close to get a shot off like that but the tightness across my cheek told me that I had just met such a person.

I slammed through another table deliberately knocking chair and occupants flying in all directions. Survival often hung on the creation of maximum disorder. Within that chaos it was hard for an attacker to discern the pattern and latch on to a clean shot. I had a reputation for being an expert at creating chaos. Many women had told me that.

I crashed up against the wall in the darkened alcove with my pocket needle gun magically appearing in my hand. Everything went unnaturally still as the echoes of the crashing furniture died away. There had been no second shot.

I risked a glance round the wall of the alcove to survey the dimly lit room. It was a typical Astrobar, or at least it had been a few moments before. There was the classic large open section of tables surrounded with a series of peripheral alcoves, many with drawn curtains, for those who preferred privacy.

There was a trail of wreckage leading in a zigzag from the bar to where I now was. Nothing seemed to be moving. The scattered occupants were lying stunned amongst the wreckage or were frozen in a tableaux with eyes directed towards me and open mouths still formulating questions. My quick scan had not revealed anybody who might be my likely assailant.

I ducked back behind the wall. This did not make sense. The bars denizens had recovered and had obviously formed the opinion that the danger was over. There was the sound of people picking themselves up out of the overturned furniture and a murmur of voices.

Ruefully I touched the slash of burning skin on my cheek. This made no sense at all. I had not offended anyone. How could I? I had only shipped in today! I’d only just returned from mining out in the asteroids. It’d only been an hour or so since I touched down. Besides I hadn’t even talked to anyone apart from the bartender. There was no way I could have upset anyone.

If perchance you would like to purchase one of my books you can do so from any Amazon site. The links are below:

In the UK:

My author pages:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Opher-Goodwin/e/B00MSHUX6Y/ref=sr_tc_2_0?

If you wish to purchase Nosedive:

In the USA:

My Author Pages:

http://www.amazon.com/Opher-Goodwin/e/B00MSHUX6Y/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1464345221&sr=1-2-ent

If you wish to purchase Nosedive:

Featured book – Nosedive – A Sci-Fi novel of Adventure and Aliens

Posted on by Opher

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I write a lot of Sci-Fi. I find it gives full flow to the imagination and allows all possibility.

Sci-Fi is a very wide genre. It encompasses a range of styles from futuristic space stories to tales of inner space. Sometimes it even breaks into mainstream literature with authors such as Jules Verne, George Orwell or Aldous Huxley.

I had written a number of Sci-Fi books before I wrote this one. They were mainly concerned with my preoccupations with infinity and reality. I decided to take a break from that and tackle something different. This was an adventure story involving maverick asteroid miners, alien contact and two superpowers who were busy trying to establish their own interplanetary empires. I wanted it to be an action packed, fast-paced story and threw in a few examples of alien science for good measure.

It was different to my other books.

If perchance you would like to purchase one of my books you can do so from any Amazon site. The links are below:

In the UK:

My author pages:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Opher-Goodwin/e/B00MSHUX6Y/ref=sr_tc_2_0?

If you wish to purchase Nosedive:

 

In the USA:

My Author Pages:

http://www.amazon.com/Opher-Goodwin/e/B00MSHUX6Y/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1464345221&sr=1-2-ent

If you wish to purchase Nosedive:

 

Featured book – Vice and Verse – an extract

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Here’s an extract that shows how I combine prose and poetry to explore ideas, feelings and topics.

The Last Poem

Before I took my first thought

The universe did not exist.

Then it all clicked on

And has never ceased to desist.

They tell me one day

I will dream my last dreams,

Then the universe will stop

To seem how it seems.

 

Adrift in a void

That is not even there.

With no thoughts to avoid

Or feelings to share.

 

Alone.

 

Without even me.

With nothing to do

And nothing to see.

 

When time does not exist

And nothing is real

You cannot be

And I cannot

feel.

OPHER  31.12.97

I wrote this on the last day of 1997.

Life is all we have. We have a consciousness that has come out of a miraculous fusion of chemicals. My mind is a mass of dendrites connecting more neurones than a galaxy.

When I die I will cease to be.

But I hope the ripples of my life will reach out to touch everyone and help make the experience of this wondrous universe better for everyone.

We do not die while our memory lingers on in the actions of others. We reach down through the generations with fingers of delight.

My friends and family live in me as I will live in others.

Lines

 

Read between the lines

On my face

That’s where the truth

Lies

Down through the years

On my genes

Written in disguise.

 

Drifting through the tides

Of time,

Rushing through the dreams

Of space,

Wondering at the sense

Of wonder,

Gouged deep within

My face.

 

Opher 25.7.95

I wrote this while looking into a mirror and studying my face. I was wondering just how many of my feelings, views and philosophy were mine and how much was put there by my culture, upbringing, education, social mores and adopted position.

We are all subject to expectations and restrictions. We are all put through the cultural mincer. What comes out the other end is a shredded version.

How much of my philosophy was merely reaction against the pressures on me and how much were my genuine views.

How can you tell?

Is there a real essence of me that makes objective decisions on matters of morality or actions? Or are we pulled back and forth by the forces acting upon us?

I was fortunate that my family did not indoctrinate me with their politics or religion. They left me to discover my own mind. But the school, my friends and society at large had bearing on my thoughts.

Where am I in the midst of those lines on my face? They are familiar and yet the more I stare the more unknown I become. The lines lie.

Am I a product or an essence?

Leave me be

 

Leave me be,

Sandpaper me,

Put pins in my body.

Burn me with fire

To the dirge of some midnight choir.

 

Don’t ease my thirst

Make it worse.

I don’t want to recover;

I want to suffer.

 

As you can see,

I’m happy here

In agony.

 

I’m quite alone,

Cut to the bone,

Happy in silence,

With nothing

To make any sense.

 

Don’t give me another session

I’m deliriously happy

In my depression.

 

Opher 7.1.1997

I wrote this poem in response to a strange court case. A group of sado-masochists were being prosecuted. They were performing weird and extremely painful acts on each other that included sandpapering their genitals, putting pins through their testicles, and nailing themselves to the table. They were filming this and sending it to each other.

Now I have no inclination towards S&M, I find it peculiar and a sad reflection on our repressive sexual culture that ends up confusing sexual feelings with pain, violence, punishment, subjugation and degrading acts, but I could not see why a group of consenting adults who were doing no harm to anyone else but themselves should be prosecuted. They were publicly humiliated (they might have enjoyed that bit), lost careers, split up families and were imprisoned.

Surely what consenting adults chose to do in private is up to them?

 

LOVE SPENT

 

My love’s grown old

The fires run cold

My passion spent

In giving vent

As we drift along

To winter’s end.

 

For we walk together

And apart

And cannot change the picture.

 

Where once we would have wrestled with the world

We must now accept it.

 

It now takes all the time

To fashion a single brushstroke

That may not alter sense

Or produce a single joke.

 

The meaning has been drained

Into the mundane.

 

OPHER 5.2.98

I have been told that I am obsessive. That is true. When I am consumed with a passion it is all-encompassing.

Some of my passions burn themselves out.

My art I approached with a fury. I flung paint at canvas as my head burnt with ideas and need.

Then I woke up one day and the cinders merely glowed.

Minefields

Can’t look

Can’t see

Can’t touch

Can’t feel

Can’t smell

Can’t taste

Edging round the minefields of your inhibitions

Sneaking up on you

Trudging through the sand-dunes of your desserts

An oasis overdue

 

Don’t touch

Too hard

Don’t feel

Too deep

Don’t see

Too much

Don’t move

I hurt

Apart and at bay

Hunted like prey

Locked up passion

On ration

Not let out to play

Today

 

Safe within the barbed fence of pyjamas

Unisex walls

Restrained within the mind game patterns

Without balls

 

Do not intrude

Into the rude

Sense my mood

Keep at bay

My way

No play today

 

OPHER  19.12.97

Sex is a minefield. You only have to look at the courtship palaver of animals to see that. There are rituals and whole pageants necessary to be performed.

It’s all so easy in a new relationship where passions are high and the air is scented with pheromones as the hormones race the heart. But once that phase succumbs to a lesser heat the frenzy subsides. Then it is more a question of synchronicity and mood, inclination and desire…… and a balance.

Sex is intimate and requires both parties to bring the biology into alignment. Sometimes that doesn’t happen. Old relationships are patterned on compromise.

 

If perchance you would like to purchase one of my books you can do so from any Amazon site. The links are below:

In the UK:

My author pages:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Opher-Goodwin/e/B00MSHUX6Y/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1464344957&sr=1-2-ent

Vice and Verse

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Vice and Verse:

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Featured book – Vice and Verse – the cover art.

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This is the actual painting of mine that I used for the artwork for the cover of the book. I painted it back in 1974. All of my book covers are either my paintings or photographs.

I enjoy putting them together

What do you think?

If perchance you would like to purchase one of my books you can do so from any Amazon site. The links are below:

In the UK:

My author pages:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Opher-Goodwin/e/B00MSHUX6Y/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1464344957&sr=1-2-ent

Vice and Verse

Kindle Edition
£0.00 Subscribers read for £0.00 £1.99 to buy

In the USA:

My Author Pages:

http://www.amazon.com/Opher-Goodwin/e/B00MSHUX6Y/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1464345221&sr=1-2-ent

Vice and Verse:

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New novel – Danny’s Story – the story.

Posted on by Opher

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In 1972-74 I lived in a flat in Manor House London. It was the tail-end of the sixties. I’d previously lived in Ilford and Wood Green before heading off to hitch around the States as a prelude to going off around the world.

We came back from the States skint and moved up to London to earn some money to head off again to Africa. It didn’t quite go as planned. I ended up doing research and Liz became pregnant.

While living in the flat (no hippies, babies or pets) with Liz, we had out cat, rat and turtles living with us and then a baby.

It was a great place and a community of lots of people with stories. The garden was an amazing creation by this octogenarian bohemian genius – a psychedelic masterpiece. So much happened in the place and we found ourselves in the centre of it.

I felt there was a book in it but I did not know how to do it. Until, that is, I read Tortilla Flat by John Steinbeck and it suddenly clicked.

My second problem was to write about real people. I got around that by heavily fictionalising them, altering them, playing with their back stories and creating different characters. It was a balancing act. Some came out similar and some, due to the plotting, came out very different. I would apologise to some, who I made very much more unpleasant than they were, all I can say is that the characters I created are not them. I used a lot of licence. But I did feel that I trapped a little of the feel of the house in that book and a glimpse of the reality of the madness of the place and times.

My main character is based on me but is not me. I extrapolated out, separated him off from his relationship, and played around with him. He too was a fiction.

The events were largely real, though I did play with them too.

What we have at the end is a story of a period of time that is true to its time. It is light and airy, largely made up of vignettes and stories that run together and tell the story of Danny’s stay in the house.

I could have equally called it Mr Rose’s story or even 301 Green Lanes.

I like it and I hope you will too. It will be out shortly.