Writer
by Anthony Quinn
The backdrop of the 1970s gives added interest to this tale. Strikes, demonstrations, murder on the streets, police corruption and a shaky distrusted government. The wheel keeps on turning, this could be 2023.
There are four strands to the story and encountering each one in isolation was baffling as to how they would link up.
Read more on the ‘Book Review’ page.
On 22 November, 59 years ago, John F Kennedy, the youngest elected President of the USA was shot dead. Who did it and Why? have been the subjects of hundreds of books.
Such a shocking event leaves its mark, and it’s generally accepted that everyone who was around at the time remembers where they were when they heard the news. So, here’s my story, written a long time ago-
‘The times were changing. Bob Dylan had warned us; the evidence was everywhere, in the streets and on the news. Astonishingly, “You’ll Never Walk Alone” was top of the charts for the fourth week running, sung by the latest Mersey Sound star, Gerry Marsden. He was on his way to making a million while I had just finished my first day at college.
The college crowd had hastened through the pre-Christmas glitz and gloom to the nearest bar, cramped one end of a cafeteria in Liverpool’s Central Station.
A half of real bitter mixed with a bottle of Guinness was enough to start them singing. Soon they came to Gerry’s hit. The grey-haired barmaid looked up from scrubbing glasses with a dirty sponge. Despite the Senior Service hung from her lips, she was able to harangue the assembled, not for the appalling rendition, but because Gerry had nicked the song from her favourite musical, Carousel.
An old man in a tired railway uniform, complete with cap askew, grinned toothlessly at the outraged woman as he gulped his pint. The students laughed and hurled playful abuse at the bar and I paused to reflect that times were good and that there had been no cause for anxiety, the first day at college, 22nd November 1963, had been a good one.
As night descended the cigarette smoke billowed, then a row about football kicked off. Suddenly the door crashed open and cold air spiked our comfortable fug.
Tweed overcoat, flat cap, he took one step and said, ‘Listen everyone, this is important.’ Conversation dropped to a murmur and all eyes turned to the newcomer. The railwayman’s glass went down with a thud; the barmaid released the pump mid pull and squinted at the intruder. He had our attention.
‘It was on the news,’ he croaked, his head shook from side to side, ‘President Kennedy has been shot dead.”
Copyright © Ken Tracey 2022
I chose Helena Merriman’s, ‘Tunnel 29’ thinking that it was a thriller but later realised that it was tagged ‘History.’ It worked on both levels; an informative account of the scandalous German Democratic Republic and The Berlin Wall. Also, a tense journey with the young people who gave a chunk of their lives to gruelling work under the risk of torture and death to help strangers to escape to freedom…
Read more on the ‘Book Review’ page.
My short story collection, ‘Disappearing Overnight,’ is available on Kindle from 1 December 2021.
Order on line from Amazon for £2.00, Click link below.
What readers are saying –
‘I loved the setting and variety of the stories. You are transported to these places with such ease, the descriptions and rich story telling envelop the reader to each of the story’s locations.’
‘It is hard to imagine how a story could end, but be ready for the twist! The various characters think and behave in an appropriate way according to the time and place the events occurred. I enjoyed the variety.’
My collection of short stories is published today.
Disappearing Overnight is an entertaining collection of diverse stories.
A scientist defecting to Russia has to use his secret to escape. – A solicitor down on his luck finds a new job and is shocked when his past turns up. – A man returns to the scene of his teenage crime with a good reason.- Out to avenge the death of his lover an accountant murders the one person who can save him from hanging – A brother and sister are brought up in different cultures then meet under tragic circumstances….and more.
Order on line from Amazon, Waterstones, Foyles, Blackwell’s, Hive or in store.
Waterstones link; https://www.waterstones.com/book/disappearing-overnight/ken-tracey/9781839752360
Ken’s stories have been published in Writers Forum, Scribble Magazine on line and in audio form.
His articles have appeared in The Oldie, Bygone Kent, Evergreen Magazine, various local publications, on line and audio.
He wrote a regular column for the News Shopper newspaper featuring famous people connected to the Bromley Area, and North Kent.
He has written technical articles for the Construction Press- Building Magazine, Construction News, Electrical Times, Electrical Contracting News and C I Arb News.
For samples please see the ‘Published Articles’ and ‘News Shopper Column’ pages above.
To purchase his collection of short stories; ‘Disappearing Overnight,’ see the ‘My Book’ Page above.
The content of this website is covered by the authors copyright and is intended for free reading only.
(Authors Copyright 2018 to 2025, or as stated on the article.)
Another Day
Sitting at a table on Wetherspoon’s terrace with the News Shopper spread out, I sipped a take away coffee and looked up at the lifeless windows, recalling the days when they sold beer here. Then it was difficult to find a table among the crowd of chatting, laughing people. What a pleasure it would be, to sit and watch the world go by while enjoying the paper and a pint.
I caught sight of a few advertisements for barbers and hairdressers, offering home visits and a mobile phone number to ring. Instinctively I checked my reflection in a darkened window; glasses, baseball hat and Corona Crop sprouting out the sides. Ah, one day- a pint and a haircut.
My wife had waited eleven weeks for a hospital appointment, instead of the scheduled six. Understandable under the circumstances, part of the delay was due to the relevant clinic having moved to another hospital. This was to isolate them from the unit dealing with the Virus in the local hospital.
There were car parking spaces, amazing, as regular hospital users will appreciate the joy of finding even one. The foyer of this unfamiliar place was deserted, no guide to the multitude of floors and departments, except notices.
One on the lift doors stated that only two people were to use the lift at one time, an effort to maintain social distancing, but it was embarrassing when barring the door to the chap with the axe in his head. I hope he got the next one.
Two receptionists manned the clinic desk and pointed to the hand sanitiser. A line of chairs formed a barricade along the desk front to enforce distancing. Then a masked nurse took my temperature via my ear, although I was not the patient. Normal temperatures were allowed access to a corridor leading to the unit. A surreal, long and silent walk, unlike the usual lively hospital vibe.
In the waiting area scores of empty chairs lay vacant. Alternate yellow seats bore notices banning their use. They weren’t needed today; socialising could not exist in this abandoned place.
The appointment was over swiftly and the pharmacy produced the goods in minutes. The process was completed and more sanitizer applied, leaving the building even before the scheduled appointment time! It’s people that slow things down.
After 10 weeks, Thursday 28 May was the last clapping event for NHS staff and other essential workers. Annemarie Plas, who created the weekly tribute, thought it best to cease while it was at its peak, she also felt that it was becoming politicised.
13 May – Day 58
PM, Boris Johnson, has reacted to pressure from the business world to ease the lockdown rules, stating that workers who cannot function remotely, may return to work; a step toward resurrecting the stalled economy. Now the slogan, ‘Stay at Home’, has been replaced with, ‘Stay Safe.’ Politicos found confusion in the message and filled many hours of TV time, and column inches, with analysis and speculation. The relaxation didn’t fit with some medical experts either.
The consequences, for me, were most enjoyable. Easing meant that garden centres, could re-open, provided rules were complied with – social distancing and staff protection. Before the relaxation of rules, only garden centres selling food, such as fruit, vegetables and meat were allowed open to sell, those products alone.
At the Garden Centre one entrance was reserved for food purchases and the other for garden products. An area of car park was taped off to form the ubiquitous zig-zag queue lines. Free standing notices stated that a ‘social distancing policy,’ was in operation and showed figures with the two-metre distance arrows between them. Further restrictions stated, that the under 16s were unwelcome and that only two customers per household were allowed in. I joined the end of the long line and read a notice that estimated the waiting time from this point to be one hour. My recent extensive experience of queuing told me that this was a little pessimistic.
A caravan of gardeners leaving the store wore Alan Titchmarsh smiles, their trolleys loaded with; bags of compost, herbs, spices, trees and bushes in pots, barbecue equipment and garden furniture. It was like the sacking of Rome. Some had the, ‘second person in their household,’ pushing another trolley and shedding spoils along the way.
Inside a one-way system operated with computer printed notices to guide us. However, this did not stop me going down blind alleys into the clothing and books areas which were still closed.
My quest was to buy three bags of compost. I had plants to plant out, hanging baskets and pots to fill. The bags of compost and soil were stacked high and plentiful, it felt like winning a prize stacking them on my trolley, after doing without for so long.
Back at home, I stored the bags for use another day- there are sure to be plenty of those ahead to fill.
The next day was Thursday and the traditional handclapping evening to acknowledge the brave essential workers; NHS and care staff, bus drivers, supermarket workers, postmen etc. So many people who launch themselves into danger each day to provide the rest of us with medical care, food and services.
At 8pm front doors open and neighbours have the opportunity to chat across the gulf of the Close. Children gleefully bang spoons on saucepans, sparklers are lit and rockets soar from behind our houses.
Watching the children performing each week, I wonder how it will sound when they tell their own offspring about the pandemic of 2020. Hopefully the events will then, only be a distant memory.
7 May – Day 51
Today, as I tied the laces of my leather shoes, I realised that it had been some time since I had enjoyed the comfortable fit of ‘proper’ shoes. Most of the occasions that I have left the house over the past seven weeks, have been for one hour of permitted exercise. Feet have been shod in walking boots; they are also good attire for standing around outside shops.
For most people walking and cycling are now the normal way to get around, followed by running and last of all, driving. As one wit put it – ‘I’m getting 3 weeks to the gallon out of my car.’ The decline in driving has reflected in petrol prices. I’ve noticed prices as low as £1.06 per litre, compared with upwards of £1.25 before lockdown. The long-term effect of the pandemic on the world’s economy is now of great concern. The oil producing nations, are running out of storage facilities for crude oil and petrol. Recently the price of crude dropped to an historic negative value! In theory the purchase of a barrel would cost the buyer nothing and include a payment to them!
The restrictions on movement felt worse during the recent wet spell. Awareness of the length of time already endured and the uncertain future brought more clouds into ‘Virusville.’ The rain washed away the chalk drawings from the Church drive leaving a blank space like the one depicting our future.
There’s been a shift in the mood of the population. The new ways are getting tiresome. Friends living alone find their days tedious without human contact. The quiet streets have become dead streets. It’s not worth dropping into a shop for a single item, because of the extra time it takes queueing. This applies to all high street businesses; there are queues outside banks, pharmacies, DIY stores and even the chip shop.
The ‘chippy’ has adapted well, only two customers are allowed in the shop at any one time, but an assistant with a note pad takes the orders from the waiting customers and passes them indoors so that frying can get under way. So personal contact is kept to a minimum and food is bagged up and ready to go by the time customers progress indoors. Home delivery is popular and the queue are treated to some nifty motor cycle manoeuvres as the riders’ scramble to collect their delivery orders.
As I walk home swinging a bag of fish and chips an empty bus pulls away from the stop. Social distancing is hard to maintain on a bus, so there are fewer passengers, if any, these days. They are required to enter the bus from the middle door because drivers are more exposed from the front entry door, and many have contracted the virus. Nearer home now, a train rattles down the tracks sounding empty, or is it just me?
13 April – Day 28
The walk today took me past my barber’s shop. Empty chairs stood in line on a bald floor, opposite faceless mirrors. The familiar closure sign taped to the window. I reflected how timely it had been for me to have my haircut the day after St Patricks Day. The shearing was overdue, but if I’d not got in before lockdown, I would have five more weeks of growth now. Add that to the initial seven weeks and it comes to three months without a haircut. But lockdown is nowhere near over, so furriness will be the new fashion. Maybe we’ll have a hippy revival, but without all the touching this time. Make social distancing- Not war.
Helpful videos have appeared on the internet guiding us to cut our own hair. Trapping it between fingers to set the length, while juggling a comb and household scissors. The result is likely to be poor particularly as hairdressers cut with special thin bladed scissors unlike the ones, we use to cut up our old credit cards.
TV viewers have shown concern for the health of presenters and newsreaders, worried that they didn’t look well. It turns out that the stations have sent some staff home for their safety, including the hair and make up teams. So now those in front of the cameras are doing their own hair and makeup and not looking so good on it.
Folk with more time than usual have created a glut of email jokes and YouTube clips. One I received today predicts that; ‘over the next six weeks, 88% of blondes will disappear from the planet!’ It sounds like John Wyndham’s, ‘Village of the Damned,’ in reverse.
A lot of people can be seen; running, walking and cycling in the suburbs and the green spaces. The sunny weather has promoted the outdoor life. I prefer to go walking to starting another project, it could be that, although prior to lockdown, I blamed the lack of time for not doing jobs, the truth may be, that I didn’t really want to do them anyway.
People are being creative and spreading kindness. I stopped at a bench for a break and found a pebble placed in the centre of the seat. Looking closer, I saw the words, ‘Stay Safe,’ alongside a heart painted on it.
At the post box, a brightly coloured cover had been fixed to the top, covered with a brood of hand knitted Easter Chicks.
On passing the entrance drive to the local church, a lady called from a safe distance. ‘Go in there and have a look at what’s been done.’ I took up the invitation to find that the long driveway had chalk markings on it.
Intricate pictures had been drawn in coloured chalk. Easter scenes from the Bible; including the disciples washing the feet of Jesus. Beneath an appropriate slogan for the present time, ‘Let Jesus wash away your fear.’
6 April – Day 21
The working day is starting earlier for those in essential services. Possibly the policy is to get the job done before the streets are occupied and there is danger of contamination. Often the mail has been delivered and the dust bin emptied, before I’m out of bed. Rubbish and waste food collections continue, but recycling of paper and bottles has been abandoned to cut down on the personnel exposed to infection.
Today the postman delivered my monthly writing magazine. I was surprised on reading the editorial to find that it will be the last edition until the coronavirus outbreak is over. The decision was necessary because the newsagents are closed, so sales will be affected and also, the advertisers are not buying space. It is not economical to publish without these two revenue streams. Later, at my local station, I collected a copy of the ‘Metro’. It’s surprising that this free newspaper is being published when so many readers are not travelling to work in London.
I fixed the two remaining trellis panels to the wall, quite a straightforward job. Then the more pleasant task of tying the emerging rose branches to them in a fan shape, at a low angle to maximise the number of blooms. A job that may have been put off under normal circumstances is now completed.
A well-deserved walk took me past the recreation ground where a group of teenagers larked around a park bench. Their social distancing was verging on social closeness, but there was space between the ones playing frisbee.
Along the way families cycled together, Mother and father leading and the young children strung out behind. Sometimes with a dog in tow galloping to keep up. Others jogged together, clearly a new venture for some, who snorted like steeple chasers on the final furlong. A lone young man occupied a corner of a field. He’d brought his weights along to train in the fresh air.
My peace was disturbed by the squawking of a duck, nothing to do with nature, but my ringtone. I’m getting more calls and less texts now, as if folk want to hear the sound of voices beyond their own households. It was a friend who is living a similar life of walking and shopping and staying home, like everyone else. Interestingly he mentioned a mutual friend who sells ‘white goods,’ and recently sold one hundred freezers in a day. This cleared out the stock. So, there must be a lot of garages humming with extra freezers packed with panic purchases.
Passing the recreation ground again, the teenage crowd had reduced to a boy and a girl. Sitting on the bench in the sun and joined at the lips. Surely sixteen year olds can estimate two metres apart better than that!
1 April 2020- Day 16
The new can of preservative is empty and the three trellis panels have stood drying in the garage for a day or two, so today I started fixing them to the wall. Taking down the existing weather ravaged panels was easy, but I had to find storage space for them as the Council Tips are closed due to the lockdown.
My idea was to use the old panels as templates for the holes in the new panels. That way I could re-use the plugged holes in the brickwork to attach the new panels. Well, it sounds a good idea, but as the morning progressed and the job didn’t, I had to change my method. The accuracy needed to marry up the new holes in the timber to the existing holes in the brickwork was akin to assembling something at NASA, and beyond my skills.
So, it boiled down to new holes all round, this work on top of the aborted first plan, meant that when time ran out, I had fixed only one panel.
After lunch and a zinc tablet, I set off for my daily walk. Zinc reinforces the immune system, so it’s just in case. Without a blood test, I have no idea and it may be a waste of time, but perhaps it’s doing some good. Zinc was recommended on the internet to help combat the Virus – so it must be true.
There were others walking the country lanes but they swopped sides to pass me at a safe distance. People are greeting each other with a few words and knowing smiles. We’re in this together, the slogan of the World Health Organisation has spread too.
The massive reduction in road and air traffic has reduced pollution and noise. The trill of a skylark and the tic, tic, of robins were the only sounds. A small herd of Highland cattle grazed the lush grass, one lifted his 
heavy head to watch me… watching him. An idyllic setting and the beginning of what could be a glorious summer. ‘You wouldn’t think that anything was wrong, would you?’ called a voice from across the lane. I agreed. Nature is drawing us into a new season, regardless of our problems.
That night I took a break from writing and from a darkened bedroom looked out at the sky. Around 9.30 pm it was overcast but one star shone brightly. It was close and I decided that it was not a star but perhaps a planet. Back at the computer I discovered that it was the International Space Station, visible only by night.
I went outside to look at the dot and marvelled how man had created an environment where he could live, within a small bubble, orbiting over 200 miles above the earth. Clean and uncontaminated. Is this our future?
‘If you have a temperature or a cough, please don’t board the spacecraft.’
Surely such ingenuity can beat Coronavirus.
Ken Tracey 