Task for the day

Righty ho, today's task is to assemble an ebook from scratch, including cover. The book this time will be the first two chapters of a novel by my buddy Ricardo Victoria. Version one of the book will be without table of contents, version two I'll have a go at incorporating that. Clock's just ticking 1pm, let's see how long it takes from beginning to end. Off we go.

Durham postcard

A cropped version of the page one "postcard" created for the Illuminate festival's visit to Durham.

First ebook versions completed

Early days yet - but today I've been working on creating ebook files. I've just used a short story which I've formatted, added a scratch cover to, and it seems to work fine for Kindle and for the epub reader I've got on my PC. Now looking to test it out.

The files are available at:

epub: http://www.yourfilelink.com/get.php?fid=694022

Kindle: http://www.yourfilelink.com/get.php?fid=694024

Files also being made available elsewhere. Reports back to come here.

Slug and Lettuce review

The Slug and Lettuce, Unit 7 Walkergate, Durham, DH1 1SQ

Tel: 0845 126 2900

Website: http://www.slugandlettuce.co.uk/durham/

Opening times: Monday – Wednesday 10am – 11pm; Thursday 10am – midnight; Friday and Saturday 10am – 1am; Sunday 10am - 11pm

IT seems hardly five minutes since The Slug and Lettuce opened in Durham, tucked down next to the Gala.

In truth, it was 2007 when the chain opened in Durham. In all that time, Eating Out has never crossed the threshold – so with the venue having recently reopened after a quick makeover, it was about time.

The new-look interior is lovely. I popped in on Thursday, breaking up a shopping trip that seemed to have every window in town adorned with Royal wedding good wishes. There was even a chap pushing his Union Jack bunting-wrapped bicycle through town. Obviously, there'd be nothing like that inside this new-look bar. In I went, found my table, marched to the bar and ordered my meal while a host of posters of William and Kate grinned back at me.

I settled on the interior balcony of the Slug and Lettuce, a good spot to people watch and to take a look at the refurbished venue. The spruce-up is very nice, stylish and makes the place feel like a venue where you would see and be seen. I imagine it could have quite a buzz on an evening, so while it says there are meals all day every day, I'd really expect you'd be looking more at eating up until early evening before it becomes more of a drinking and partying spot, a thought reinforced by the lengthy and tempting cocktail menu.

It has to be said, the volume on the music in the daytime could have been kicked down a notch or two – it was fine most of the time but the heavier bass tracks were bordering on intrusive for relaxing with your meal.

Having ordered my meal from the very pleasant serving staff, I settled on the balcony to relax and wait for my meal. And, unfortunately, wait. And wait. It was more than half an hour – edging 40 minutes – before my meal arrived, just as I was heading to the bar to ask where it was. I may have been the only one to be left hanging, certainly no one else seemed to be fretting. Personally, I didn't mind the wait, but if you're trying to squeeze lunch in before dashing back to work, you may struggle if that is the norm. Oh, and every time the waitress wandered by with a towering burger and oodles of chips, my nose kept telling me I'd chosen the wrong meal.

However, meal finally arrived, it was gorgeous. I ordered the open chicken pie, which is chicken breast in an open puff pastry pie, the chicken drizzled in a lovely creamy sauce of Applewood cheese and bacon. Garden peas and some truly smashing chips rounded out the plate. For the £8.95 cost, I really can't fault it, it was delicious.

Back to the bar to order dessert. I went for sticky toffee pudding in custard. Just the one – despite the barman's helpful chirping of a two for one offer on dessert. Even I couldn't manage that.

Dessert is where you want a little bit of a wait. First, to let your main meal settle, and second, to suggest that the pudding isn't just microwaved and sloshed with custard from a long-standing pot. And in that respect, the Slug and Lettuce ticked the boxes nicely. The pudding was melt-in-your mouth delicate and quite scrumptious.

On the positive side, the surroundings are enticing, the staff friendly, and the food very nice. The bill, too, hit the right spot, with main meal, dessert and two drinks coming in at just £17.70. It's just a shame about the delay, or there would be thumbs up all round.

Still, as I sat there relaxing post-meal, I did think about how next time I came here, I'd try one of those impressive-looking burgers. And if I'm thinking next time, then those positives are far outweighing the one negative.

Food 7/10

Service 6/10

Surroundings 9/10

Value 9/10

Design work

I've been doing some snippets of design work for a possible project with a housing group. It's at the stage of being a pitch rather than a confirmed project at the moment, but here's some of the layouts I've put together.

Flashback article - a 2002 piece about Ampleforth Abbey

‘TIS the night before Christmas and all through God’s house, barely a creature is stirring, except…

Like most people, the staff of Ampleforth Abbey finish their work at Christmas and set off for home, to share this festive season with their families.

But as they depart, and with the school’s pupils also having picked their way home, the monks remain. For them, this is as busy a time of year as ever – more so, for once the staff has gone, the monks have to look after their own needs.

Those with an inclination towards cooking tiptoe into kitchens they aren’t normally seen to frequent and set to work with pots and pans which are normally under the exclusive ownership of seasoned chefs.

“At Christmas, we look after all our own catering,” says the Abbot of Ampleforth, Fr Timothy Wright. “The monastery has to provide its own cooks. Once you are an expert cook, you are always a cook. They do a very, very good job.”

For most people, Christmas is a time for being with family, for gathering around, enjoying a meal together to celebrate the day – and hopefully unwind some of the year’s tensions.

Within the walls of the abbey, the traditional cycle of vigils and devotions continues, added to by the extra services at this time of year.

But despite the monks having more to do at Christmas, the season creates its own special atmosphere.

Fr Wright said: “Our meals are no longer silent with reading. There’s talking throughout them, and the joyfulness of being together feeds off each other.

“It enables us to be family. In that way, we’re not unlike a normal family.”

Preparation for Christmas is as important as the day itself at the abbey.

“We always start on the evening before. That part of the feast is important as it is the build-up to the feast,” said Fr Wright. “The abbot presides. That brings in a lot of colour with different types of music and singing.”

Throughout the day, the traditional devotions remain, be it Lord’s at 8am, the midday devotion, the evening Vespers at 5.30pm or the night prayer of Compline at 8.30pm. With a late evening following the midnight mass at the abbey and the second mass held at 10.30am, the day seems quite crammed.

But there comes a time in the afternoon when each of the monks will have time to themselves, to share with friends, to listen to the Queen’s speech or, like the abbot, to perhaps go for a walk or enjoy a quiet read.

Fr Wright was born on April 13, 1942, and 20 years later became a novice at Ampleforth. He took his vows in 1966, and became a priest in 1972. His faith has taken him far and wide, carrying out pastoral work in Lourdes, Belfast, Texas, Alaska, South Africa and Zimbabwe. He became abbot in 1997.

He said: “I was born a Catholic and brought up a Catholic. People talk about a journey of faith. My journey has gone down one road – but faith itself transforms failure into success and darkness into light.

“The essence of this journey is discovering what belonging really means. My life and my identity is no longer just me battling against the odds. It is me battling, surrounded by this huge love which is Jesus, which has no end to it.”

For many, Christmas is the crux of the Christian calendar – and the abbot is no different. For him, it is a fundamental par tof how his faith came to be.

He said: “Christmas is special because it is a key moment in the year when the world changed and therefore my destiny changed.

“The moment when God became man changed everything. A future which looked bleak at best now had a sense of great optimism attached to it. If God can become man in Jesus, then God becomes man in me as well.”

There is a sureness in Fr Wright’s voice when he says this, a definite understanding of what this cycle of things means to him. It is a certainty that many others would be envious of – but Fr Wright doesn’t believe that everyone should follow his path.

He said: “I don’t say that everyone should want to become a monk, but the inspiration that led to my wanting to become a monk is what I want to communicate so that they can understand it.”

And with that – and the never-ceasing demands on his time in this season – Fr Wright sets off to meet a group of visitors, and continue his part in passing on that inspiration.

Durham Times article about my skydive

There's a time for regrets. And two seconds after tumbling out of a plane with two miles of sky between you and the ground is not one of them.

"Why on earth would you want to throw yourself out of a plane?" was a common question from my friends and workmates in the run-up to my skydive.

And for everyone, I had a different answer. Because I was dared by Emily Rosselli, from St Cuthbert's Hospice, in Durham. Because it's a challenge. Because I'm a madman. Because it's for a good cause. Because I'm afraid of heights and I refuse to let my fear hold me back. Each answer was part true. Each part-truth led me to Shotton Airfield, where the skydive took place.

You couldn't really call it an adrenaline rush. My first planned jump, on October 2, was foiled by bad light. Further attempts were hit by high winds, heavy cloud, snow, ice, rain... people began to nudge me and ask me if maybe someone was trying to give me a message. But finally, six months to the day later and on my tenth attempt, I put on the jumpsuit, was strapped into the harness by Kev Dynan, the instructor who would be with me during the tandem jump, and up we went.

As we took off, I expected my fear of heights to kick in. After all, I'm scared when I stand on a chair. The banter in the plane among the instructors and jumpers was nervous but kept a lid on things. It wasn't until it was time to jump that the nerves really kicked in.

We were the last to jump, and seeing each combination of jumpers go ahead of us was terrifying. One minute, there they were, sitting on the step on the edge of nothingness and then, gone. Vanished. As we edged to take our place on that seat, I kept reciting in my head the things to do when we got there. Arms across chest. Lean head back. And then we got there, and I looked down. 11,000 feet down. To fields that were tiny squares. The A19's busy dual carriageway reduced to a fine, grey line. Little candyfloss clouds idling along below us, and fear in a knot in my stomach. Gone from my head were the instructions, until Kev pulled my head back to lean against him. A split second later, out we went.

In that split second, all fear left me. Suddenly we were plummeting towards the earth at 140mph and all I could feel was pure exhilaration. For 30 seconds, we fell, with me screaming my lungs out. It's as pure a joy as you can imagine. And then, pop goes the canopy, the harness digs into you and the roar and the rush of the wind around you vanishes. Everything is suddenly peaceful, suddenly calm, and there you are, floating above the world, looking at it as never before. The ground comes closer, and closer, and all too soon, you touch down and it's over. Back to Earth. The end of one of the most amazing experiences I've ever had.

So why did I really jump out of a plane? In 2005, my mother was diagnosed with cancer. She was a wonderful woman. Amazing. She always played down the things she had done in her life, but what she did was remarkable. She was a woman for whom the word no was a challenge, not a barrier. More than that, she was as warm and kind-spirited a person as you'll find.

She lost her battle. But in the weeks leading up to that, the hospice helped both her and our family immensely. We were there for Mum until the end, and we couldn't have done that without the hospice. There's a time for regrets, but the hospice helped to make sure there were as few regrets as possible. So why jump out of a plane? So others can be helped by their local hospice in just the way I was helped. And for Mum, who I wish could have been there to see it happen.

For more information about the hospice, visit www.stcuthbertshospice.com.

Welcome to Altered Instinct. This blog is a starting point for the AI electronic publishing house, as well as a blog detailing the process of its launch.

For many writers, instinct leads to the hard copy, the dogeared paperback, the shelf full of books. Altered Instinct gives a new opportunity. The electronic scribe. The Caxton press that can print for the whole world, not just the bookstores that have a spare space that might catch the eye of the casual browser.

The goal here at AI is to offer writers the opportunity to reach a digital audience, wherever they may be. Our target is the fantastic. The eccentric. The weird. The horrifying. The possibilities of tomorrow.

So let's see what tomorrow brings...

Altered Instinct

noun /ˈinstiNGkt/  
instincts, plural

An innate, typically fixed pattern of behavior in animals in response to certain stimuli
• - birds have an instinct to build nests
• - maternal instincts
A natural or intuitive way of acting or thinking
• - they retain their old authoritarian instincts
A natural propensity or skill of a specified kind
• - his instinct for making the most of his chances
The fact or quality of possessing innate behavior patterns
• - instinct told her not to ask the question

al·ter

verb /ˈôltər/ 
altered, past participle; altered, past tense; altering, present participle; alters, 3rd person singular present
Change or cause to change in character or composition, typically in a comparatively small but significant way
• - Eliot was persuaded to alter the passage
• - nothing alters the fact that children are our responsibility
• - our outward appearance alters as we get older
• - an altered state
Make structural changes to (a building)
• - plans to alter the dining hall
Tailor (clothing) for a better fit or to conform to fashion
• - skirts with the hemlines altered a dozen different times
Castrate or spay (a domestic animal)

Skydive video

The video from my skydive - 11,000 feet of terror and exhilaration! Many, many thanks to the instructor, Kev "Dangerous" Dynan, and Oli Clark, who filmed the video. I really appreciated you letting me put my life in your hands! This was my tenth attempt at the jump, and though it took six months for the weather to finally be right, I'm so glad that I persisted. It was a truly amazing experience. Once in a lifetime? We'll see. I raised money for St Cuthbert's Hospice in Durham by taking part in the jump, so many thanks to those who sponsored me.