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
Kitchen gadgets come and go. Yet so few stay with us unless stored well out of sight and accessibility. There is a damned good reason for this; cooking is a sensory art. A touchy feely joy; the fondling foreplay before the final act of love – presenting your creation. It can be as simple or as complicated as its creator wishes but at all levels it is intensely personal. Whether it is something small and simple (eggs on toast for a breakfast in bed) or a main meal spread (the full-on weekend roast), there needs to be love and caring…
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Crime is universal; not a corner of the globe is immune from the dastardly deeds of its perpetrators. It may not always be as “brutal” as reporters and headline writers around the world seemingly wish us to believe. In many cases (white collar and cyber crime come quickly to mind),…
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TWENTY-FIVE thousand? Really? Did I read that correctly? Surely someone with stuttering fingers has been clicking the head-counter at Sharm-al-Sheikh. Or perhaps Rishi has seconded a number-cruncher from the Treasury (you know how good they are with numbers) to lend a hand with collating the stats at Cop27. Whatever the…
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Apologies for the long silence on the book review front. There’s no real excuse apart from being busy editing other writers’ books. This means scant time or energy remains for more reading at the end of a busy day. And the hillock of books for review is fast becoming a…
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It is catch-up time . . . . . . and therefore time to continue an already long overdue review of recent reads with this triple treat of works from some of the best in the crime fiction business. Go-to authors who you know will always deliver the goods. Endlessly…
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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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