Danny Kemp.

I married the most kind, caring, wonderful, sexy woman that has ever walked this planet eighteen years ago. She has just removed the loaded gun pointing at my head but I will not delete anything.
In that inspired moment I inherited a ready constructed family of one of each, at those tender teenage years of twelve and fourteen. Lucky them eh!.
Somehow we all survived and occasionally spoke rationally to each other without swearing! Nowadays we sometimes fall out, never my fault of course, as you must realise by now that I’m a very inoffensive person. I also lie!
Personally speaking I’m pleased I interrupted their idyllic life they had before my arrival as both have given their Mother and I, three of the most perfect grandchildren anyone could wish for.
My granddaughter, aged thirteen, is really my soul mate and my IT pupil, although she mistakenly believes it is the other way round. She obviously, by accident, takes after me in so many ways, good-looking, charming, quiet but intelligent and modest. As to her vanity, I can only guess; but there are six mirrors about her person ever time she leaves to go to School.
The other two scoundrels are going to be just that. Both are boys in the real sense. One is three and the other five, both having reconfigured a Rubik cube three days after their birth. For this Christmas we have bought them all the expedition equipment they will need to spend their formative years climbing in the Himalayas, whilst Mum and Dad repair the home.

If you liked the Rubik cube bit, there is something like that in the book!


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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