The Town

The Town is a light-hearted comedy of human behaviours and an unashamedly nostalgic journey into an only recently lost era. A time when life was simpler, slower and there was always time to stop and natter. A time when entertainment was found in everyday life and the eccentricities of other people. Even in this little corner of yesteryear a little intrigue and mystery occasionally intrudes. ___*** The Town is unlike any novel I have ever read creating captivating entertainment from the banalities of everyday life. *** A really good read, and funny. The style and standard puts me in mind of the short stories that got adapted for the BBC's Play For Today.*** The Foreword (included below) captures the mood of the novel beautifully. *** If you like your novels strong on atmosphere, full of earthy realism and wit, you will surely enjoy The Town._________________________________________________________>FOREWORDStart reading this book as sunset approaches, a glass of fine beer or Pinot Noir in hand, your mind at rest. Take your seat, facing the sunset, as the sun nears its daily appointment with the horizon. Do not stare at the sun's golden rays but squint, so as to leave your eyes scarcely open at all. Wait quietly, breathe slowly, pull each breath in purposely; let time take its natural course. Soon you will see the green, rolling hills of South West England below you and the boisterous English Channel over on your left-hand side. Listen; the doleful cries of circling sea birds swell and fade as they drift on the fresh breeze which buffets your face. A wind laden with the salt-and-seaweed smell of the ocean, with images of brightly painted fishing boats and with the exotic mystery of distant ports. Do not open your eyes to look more carefully. Just take in the scene, that amalgam of light and imagination, glimpsed between nearly closed eyelids; and smile. Look down a little. On your left, you see a church spire. It stands at the centre of a small and rather untidy congregation of redbrick and grey-stone buildings, peeking over the surrounding farmland hills. Puffs of smoke meander from chimneys and a flag flaps and snaps on a pole atop the town hall. This spire, reaching for the God of a dying epoch, nonetheless remains the heart of a community. Its streets are quiet, for it is wintertime and visitors are few. There are a few souls, and they move about unhurriedly, taking their ease, stopping to talk about the weather, the news of the day; and, most importantly, other people. Pay attention to the gulls, the saline smells, the fortifying Atlantic winds, the welcoming stillness and the human pace of life. This is the town.