Still doing the setup for the sequel to WW - hard work remembering what I did in book 1.

Sidesteps to Beat Steps

“You're welcome Superintendent Tyrell -  to the show.”

“Now Ivor. I'm retried it's just plain Bob now.”

“But you did spend time in the force and rose to the rank of Superintendent.”

“I did, but now as you know Ivor I'm here to talk about my Memoir “Sidesteps to  Beat Steps” my time as a footballer and pounding the beat.”

“On the beat, walking the streets, on patrol. I never knew you did that.”

“Ivor in the old days all rookies started in that way, but again Ivor – the book, that's the mission today.”

“You solved the serial killer case and brought the killer of eleven women to justice, Bob.”

“ I had help, there Detective Inspector Shay Fanahan made the first breakthrough, when he recognised the killer, even though he was dressed in drag. Sergeant harry Roycroft down in Port Siney initiated a search of the Bowen place and found the graves. Dogged police work on both their part. And the dogged detection work of Sheba as well.”

“So it is true a seeing eye dog, sniffed the killer out even in his Grannies clothes.”

“Ivor if you were afraid of dogs no matter if you were up a tree, when one gets sniffing for you - you panic. The late Prunty Senior always said that one of these boys will stand beside a prancing stallion going down to the start at the Currough, but put then in a room with a Shih Tzu, they … well I will leave the rest to the viewer's imagination. It was his record keeping for the customers of his handmade shoes that first put us on to Bowen. I could almost hear him and his cackling laugh as I wrote the case into the book. A gentleman and we all miss him, may he rest in peace.”

“Where is the killer now? Bob.”

“In a place – you couldn't call it a hospital, or a prison – it's a place for the criminally insane.”

“Are the staff, and maybe even visitors, safe from him? Could he kill again?”

“Ivor – he doesn't even know who he is, or where he is, all that remains is the personality of a frail, elderly lady. I say lady because she believes she is the mistress of a large house, with tended gardens, servants and people to cook her meals and serve her. In fact unless she is seated at the end of a dining table with a few candelabra with lighting candles, and a tablecloth on it, she will refuse to eat until things are restored to normal, as she says. I'm afraid that for Duchess Bowen, there are no today's or tomorrow's just yesterday's.”

“Bob are you sure Georgie, the serial killer, is gone?”

“Jees Ivor! I hope so. A killer with no conscience or regret, must never be allowed out into the population.”

“What if one day he woke up and said – I'm back, it's me Georgie. I'm myself again.”

“Then we could charge him with the murders. We have never been able to so far, because basically we could not bring an old lady to court and charge her. You see Georgie is gone, long gone - I don't believe he exists any more. Wish he did – there are many unanswered questions.”

The Tower View Reading Club are asking for a Sequel to In The Wicker Wood.

I don't know what I will call it but the Sequel starts like this! Am I linking the two books in a sensible way?

Fanahan was down, depressed some would call it, but since he did not believe depression existed: for him, he was just down.

Milo had died. Or to be precise Milo had drank himself to death. This time with booze left on the shelves. In other words he failed to drink his Dublin Pub dry.

Cremation was not a real funeral, a real internment! Putting a small box into a grave was a shame. Six by four that was what a man deserved, and six down as well. The undertaker had just bent down and placed the ashes a foot or so deep.

Give me a better send off, Fanahan thought. Scatter my ashes over twenty virgins! Jees where would you get twenty virgins today? Primary School? Grade School?

“Gerry, give me another pint and a large brandy chaser. Those photographs on the wall of the football match. Milo said I could have them after he was finished with them, For sure that time is now. Take them down and I'll bring them with me.”

“He didn't say you could have them, he used them to annoy you – that Cavan beat Galway, but I don't like them either. So take them out of my sight. This is a changed Pub from now on. I might even consider barring some of the customers!”

Grate Pictures, just great for starting a nice fire in a grate! Bloody Tyrell, the Cavan Hoor, had retired. He wrote his Memoir, of his Gaelic playing career, his time as a Garda, and his part in solving the big cases. It was a best seller – he had a lot of celebrity help to promote it. And now he was a security expert spoofin' on the radio and TV when big cases were being analysed, fell on his feet! Retired, wrote a memoir and now a security expert on the radio and TV spouting on criminal issues. SHITE.

Detective Inspector Seamus Fanahan! Stuck in a policing rut and not going anywhere fast. No woman, no kids, no prospects and now – God help us all no best pal. Milo a best pal? Well OK. No pal at all.

He thought when he solved the case of that prick, was he a pal as well? He killed all those girls and kidnapped a priest, that he would get a promotion and a plum job. He got the promotion and was sent back to office duties training dunces – showing them how to use and in some cases abuse the computer records system. If someone wanted a drink driving arrest to disappear before the court case – he could help. His drinking habit could not be sustained on an inspector's pittance – after deductions.

Over 20,000 Readers – 20,000! Pity it's my Tripadvisor Review's Readers!

A long time ago I had a very good holiday in the Canaries. I told Tripadvisor about it. Because I gave information about the hotel, nearby restaurants, bus routes from the airport, fares, taxi fares to the nearby town and things like that. I attracted a good readership.

I then knew that a review is sometimes about more that a single experience.

In all the years I think I only wrote a few time about questionable places.

In the Canaries being asked for cash to pay a large bill.

Or recently, in Dublin, when I observed families with children being refused admission to a pub/dining premises. “No Children” the owner roared as he barred entry at the door.

Or when I found ants in my bed in Sorrento. I had a few words about the hotel laundering my clothes when I also found them in my carry on luggage stored in the wardrobe. But got the usual Italian stall.

But otherwise I had great experiences, in all the places I visited.

So now they tell me they have awarded a badge to me to show I have over 20,000 readers.

That's great – now how do I translate that following to my book readers?

Write a travelogue you fool!