A Noisy Confession.


From my days as a Police Officer.

I was the radio operator in the Police Area Car (fast response) one quiet Sunday winter’s night when by 3am the driver decided he needed forty winks. He parked the V8 Rover 3500 between two blocks of apartments, in a cul-de-sac, overlooking Greenwich Park and off he dozed.

For a while I managed to stay awake, but perhaps owing to the boredom, or the warmth of the car, I too soon drifted off to sleep. I’m not sure if it was a noise of something or my conscience that woke me, but as I did my hand inadvertently hit the siren button.

I’ve never to this day heard such a loud din as the emergency Klaxons reverberating around that confined space, and nor have I seen such surprise register on anyone face as was there on my driver’s! If anyone reading this was living in those apartments, on that Monday morning almost forty years ago, then please accept my apologies.


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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