Danny Kemp.

Good morning everyone. Snow laying on the ground again this morning but the roads and the pavements seem clear. There are many elderly people living near me and the pavements are often neglected by the Council so it’s good to see that this time someone cares. Up until a few years ago Wilmington, where my wife and I live, could still rightly be called a village, but they took away the Post Office and now is seems we are simply a cut through from one motorway to another. We have no bus service that travels anywhere but East, so for those that chose not to drive, a journey in any other direction becomes a day trip.Yet in this small village (I still use the term) there are two of the most sort after Grammar Schools in the County, where private bus and coach loads of children are fetched then carried away every working day. The roads are narrow, too narrow the council says for any local bus route, but for those who find their education here surprisingly not. Why is it that Grammar Schools that we have been derided by countless political parties as being too selective and divisive are so popular that funding can be found for their transportation but none for the elderly who now have to travel for what a Post Office used to supply. When do you think that money will cease to govern our everyday lives?



About Danny Kemp

I was at work one sunny November day in 2006, stopped at a red traffic light when a van, driven incompetently, smashed into me. I was taken to St Thomas' Hospital and kept in for a while, but it was not only the physical injuries that I suffered from; it was also mental ones. I had lost confidence in myself let alone those around me. The experts said that I had post-traumatic stress disorder, which I thought only the military or emergency personnel suffered from. On good days, I attempted to go to work, sometimes I even made it through Blackwell Tunnel only to hear, or see, something that made me jump out of my skin and that's when the anxiety attacks would start. I told my wife that I was okay and going regularly, but I wasn't. I could not cope with life and thought about ending it. Somehow or other with the help of my wife and medical professionals, I managed to survive and ever so slowly rebuild my self-esteem. It took almost four years to fully recover, but it was during those dark depressive days that I began to write. My very first story, Look Both Ways, Then Look Behind, found a literary agent but not a publisher. He told me that I had a talent, raw, but nevertheless, it was there. His advice was to write another story and that I'm delighted to say, I did. The success of that debut novel, The Desolate Garden, was down to sheer hard work, luck, and of course, meeting a film producer.
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