Welcome to my world. My name is Tony Berry, writer and editor (and lifelong pedant) with five crime fiction books and two memoirs to my name. Also running addict, failed chef, theatre 'luvvie' and dedicated cruciverbalist
GET out and start walking. This is the advice continually given to sufferers from all manner of ills, mental and physical and everything in between. And by and large, lacing up the trainers and putting one foot in front of the other does seem to be part of the answer. Or at least an excellent way of making the world begin to seem a better place. Raynor Winn and her terminally ill husband, Moth, would certainly attest to that. Although they did rather take the idea to extremes when they stuffed minimal gear into rucksacks last used in their long…
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PERSONAL reasons had me well disposed in favour of this book well before turning a page. It was something I was silently rooting for, willing it to success. Thus the disappointment that descended well before reaching the thrilling finale was all the deeper and saddening. It was, in the words…
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WITH Covid and staff shortages becoming the default excuse for poor service and faulty products it is sad to see the malaise spreading to the world of publishing. Errors there are so visible and so irritating to readers. For publishers they are so difficult and costly to correct. In specialist…
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RARELY do I allow my bedtime reading to rob me of much-needed sleep. The temptation is often there but has to be resisted if next day is not to be write-off. Bit like drinking red wine; the extra glass (or two) rarely justifies the inevitable frowziness and inertia that follow.
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THE mind refuses to stop. It seems to be in permanent overdrive. Refusing to shut down. Unresponsive to any attempt at braking, or changing direction. And it is getting worse, more insistent, taking a tighter hold and blocking any alternative thoughts or distractions. Endlessly dwelling on Russia’s brutal and…
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MUCH joy tempered by bouts of shock and sadness. Such is the lot of family historians everywhere. Something I can well attest to after recent foraging in the foliage of my family tree. Anyone joining this global corps of addicts soon learns that tracking down their ancestors is a long plodding journey. One beset by more highs and lows than ever experienced by the most stubbornly loyal Man United fan. Exciting moments of discovery, and troughs of gloom when trails lead nowhere. Now, thanks to the recent long-awaited release of the 1921 Census of England and Wales, the odds of…
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