Sunday, 6 May 2012

Book Signing - Saturday 12th May at 11am in Waterstone's Stirling

I will be at Waterstone's in The Marches shopping centre in Stirling on Saturday 12th May from 11am signing copies of my book, The King's Park Irregulars.  I will there for an hour or so and would be delighted if you can come along.

Hope to see you there,


Some locations in Stirling from The King's Park Irregulars

While I wouldn't want to give away too much about the story of my book, I thought it might be nice to post some pictures of a few of the real life locations around Stirling which are mentioned in my book, so here goes....

This is the King's Park area of Stirling (as seen from Stirling Castle), a conservation area with some lovely Victorian streets and the epicentre of all things Abigail Craig.

The King's Park area of Stirling

This is King Street in Stirling city centre - home of The Burgh coffee shop and also McAree Brothers and leading down to The Marches shopping centre.

King Street, Stirling

This picture is the entrance to the King's Park with the Victorian drinking fountain visible on the right hand side and the path leading on to the park beyond.

Entrance to the King's Park

I hope that these pictures will help those who have not been to Stirling to get a picture of the area in which my book takes place.

A Scottish poem - To a Golf Ball

I wrote this poem after being inspired by a trip to play golf and I thought I would share it :

To A Golf Ball by David Wilson

Wee sneaky, nasty surlyn White ball,
Every Sunday morning I heed your call,
Draggin’ me oot from ma weary bed,
To subject some anguish to ma sleepy head.

A game o’ pleasure that’ll make any man swear,
And turn a calm man tae a Grizzly Bear,
Oot in the sunshine, the snow and the rain,
Your mental health’s never the same again.

And so, full o’ confidence, ye stride up tae the tee,
Sayin’ “This wee balls no getting’ the better o’ me,
With a card full o’ birdies I’m determined to win”
But if you look down you’ll see that wee ba’ grin.

A good practice swing is the start o’ this game,
Tempo and rhythm – each one stays the same,
Swingin the club with grace to and fro,
A finishing position like a veteran pro.

Then step to the ball and nothing should change,
The perfect shot is well in your range,
You say to the ball “up the fairway Macduff”,
Then you swing, you hit, and the balls in the rough.

You try to stay calm with some words under breath,
Playing partners stand in a silence like death,
You don’t want to hear that it’s only a game,
But your spirits are lifted when the rest do the same.

So in to the rough to see how you lie,
It’s lookin’ bad but you’ll give it a try,
A solid swing and through the rough you hack,
Then walk past the ball to get the divot back.

But your third shot is one of the best you’ve seen,
Gliding through the air to land on the green,
You walk down the fairway, a smile on your face,
The wee balls thinkin’ “I’ll put you in your place.”

A simple three-footer to sink for your par,
Only thirty six inches – that’s no’ very far,
You stand over the ball wi’ your putter in hand,
And that three foot looks like a huge bit o’ land.

Destined for glory, but the balls missed the hole!
It can drive a man ver’ near up the pole,
Some see it miss and break down and cry,
Others lose the temper and let golf clubs fly.

“That’s it”, ye scream, “never again,
This time next week I’m stayin’ at hame.”
But as ye storm off the course ye look back and say,
“I’ll be back tae beat ye on another day!”