Daniel Kemp

Genre: Mystery Title: The Desolate Garden Author: Danny Kemp

At ten past one in the morning, a housekeeper is greeted with a startling sight: her employer, Lord Elliot Paterson, dead by means of a bullet to the head. Lord Elliot had managed, in keeping with family tradition started centuries earlier, a secret government bank located near Queen Anne’s Gate, Westminster. Just a few years prior to his murder, Lord Elliot had discovered a 1936 bank ledger revealing a questionable Russian address. This discovery led to another: a missing family fortune. As a result of these revelations, Lord Elliot formed a probable and dangerous hypothesis. Were these discoveries what prompted the banker’s death? And if so, who instigated the murder? That is precisely what the next Lord Paterson is attempting to uncover. But Harry Paterson’s road to the answer is considerably more complicated than he initially anticipated. Not only is it complex, spanning many years of his family’s past as well as international borders, but it is dangerous. And in a different sense than you would expect. Assigned as case officer is an unlikely individual: an enigmatic and captivating young woman, Judith Meadows. Probing, sharp and unsettlingly knowledgeable of his family affairs, Harry becomes increasingly unsure of whether Judith is a nightmare or a dream. Nonetheless, the two must piece together the puzzle before another meets the late Lord Elliot’s fate. “The Desolate Garden” by Danny Kemp is a fresh spy mystery providing entertainment, stimulation and insight. Brilliantly constructed, the winding plot, stealthy loopholes and clever humour render this novel one that claims your attention, holding it captive until the final page. What with its vivid descriptions, three-dimensional characters and accessible prose, ‘The Desolate Garden’ can be thoroughly enjoyed by a wide spectrum of readers. Danny Kemp is a British author new to the profession. A lover of cooking, gardening and rugby, “The Desolate Garden” is Kemp’s second novel. This gifted author is currently writing ‘Mitzy Collins”, a moralistic novel focused on the ripple-effect a teenage girl’s death has on those who knew her. Kemp resides in London with his wife, Patricia, and is presently a licensed taxi driver. Reviewer: Alison Griffith.

All availability, plus signed copies of the novel.

http://www-thedesolategarden-com.co.uk/

I never knew my father well, in fact, it would be more correct to say that I never knew him at all. He died when he was forty-seven and I was just sixteen. I say ‘just’ but there really was nothing ‘just’ about me then. I was selfish, conceited, deceitful and disrespectful. Preferring sports, clothes and friends to either his, or my mothers, company.
There was one occasion though when I did listen to his wise words, and they have stayed with me ever since.
He said that a person’s intelligence could not solely be judged on their own individual knowledge, but, more so, on their ability to know where to find out what they don’t know themselves.

I have spent the best part of my life listening to others and assimilating knowledge from them, as my own academic qualifications do not amount to much, and I have learnt from those conversations and overheard speech.
In my opinion, you can learn more from people, than you can ever learn from reading a book, but few listen and; even fewer listen well.

I did this first one as a way of illustrating that fear some have of darkness and the sounds within.

Watching eyes, listening ears. Mouths aghast, more to fear. The door swung open, the light switched on. All our worries are past and gone.

—————————————

With this one I had the News Broadcasts Channels and Newspapers in mind. It has always fascinated me that only on Christmas Day do they carry happy news. I wonder if we would all change our outlook on each other if more happiness was spread.

Lies and fear are what we are fed, to keep us worried and full of dread. If truth was the manner on which we could feast, could life be easier and panic cease?

—————————————-

I was at work today and thought of those who have paid tens of millions of pounds to live at the top of the “Shard’ in London. It is a towering, narrow shaped glazed building often with the very top shrouded by cloud.

Heads in clouds, millions they pay. To keep their lives far away. From those that walk the streets below. With doubts and problems as they flow through life’s mystic and the hand of fate that dealt the cards and sealed their hate.

What would this life if woman free, be for someone such as me?

Bereft of love, warmth and joy, that have all stood close since I was a boy. Soft to touch, soft to hear, soft upon a listening ear. Words to calm, words so sweet that quell that anger hid so deep.

Not always did I heed their words. Choosing my own instead of those, who knew more of this cruel life than men; who know only of pain suffering and strife.

Men are cruel. War they bring, on the heads of everything. Whilst women soothe away the pain, that has been caused for such little gain.

Men shout loud with intent of fear, whilst women sing of beauty so deep and dear. Songs of love, passion and joy that I have had since a boy.

I wish I’d listened more to them, than fought the battles that I’ve been in. Then perhaps I would not ache in so much pain and with such compliant.

I AM THANKFUL, COULD YOU BE?

FOR THE WIFE WHO SAYS DINNER IS READY,  BECAUSE SHE IS HOME WITH ME,  AND NOT OUT WITH SOMEONE ELSE.

FOR THE HUSBAND  WHO IS ON THE SOFA  BEING A COUCH POTATO,  BECAUSE HE IS HOME WITH ME  AND NOT OUT AT THE BARS.

FOR THE TEENAGER  WHO IS COMPLAINING ABOUT DOING DISHES  BECAUSE IT MEANS SHE IS AT HOME, NOT ON THE STREETS.

FOR THE TAXES I PAY BECAUSE IT MEANS I AM EMPLOYED .

FOR THE MESS TO CLEAN AFTER A PARTY  BECAUSE IT MEANS I HAVE BEEN SURROUNDED BY FRIENDS.

FOR THE CLOTHES THAT FIT A LITTLE TOO SNUG  BECAUSE IT MEANS I HAVE ENOUGH TO EAT.

FOR MY SHADOW THAT WATCHES ME WORK  BECAUSE IT MEANS I AM OUT IN THE SUNSHINE  FOR A LAWN THAT NEEDS MOWING,  WINDOWS THAT NEED CLEANING,  AND GUTTERS THAT NEED FIXING  BECAUSE IT MEANS I HAVE A HOME.

FOR ALL THE COMPLAINING  I HEAR ABOUT THE GOVERNMENT BECAUSE IT MEANS WE HAVE FREEDOM OF SPEECH.

FOR THE PARKING SPOT I FIND AT THE FAR END OF THE PARKING LOT BECAUSE IT MEANS I AM CAPABLE OF WALKING  AND I HAVE BEEN BLESSED WITH TRANSPORTATION.

FOR MY HUGE HEATING BILL BECAUSE IT MEANS I AM WARM.

FOR THE LADY BEHIND ME IN CHURCH WHO SINGS OFF KEY BECAUSE IT MEANS I CAN HEAR.

FOR THE PILE OF LAUNDRY AND IRONING  BECAUSE IT MEANS I HAVE CLOTHES TO WEAR.

FOR WEARINESS AND ACHING MUSCLES AT THE END OF THE DAY BECAUSE IT MEANS I HAVE BEEN CAPABLE OF WORKING HARD.

FOR THE ALARM CLOCK THAT GOES OFF IN THE EARLY MORNING HOURS  BECAUSE IT MEANS I AM ALIVE.

AND FINALLY, FOR TOO MANY E-MAILS BECAUSE IT MEANS I HAVE FRIENDS WHO ARE THINKING OF ME.    Live well, Laugh often, & Love with all of your heart!

For those that have read my previous articles and enjoyed them, I thank you for sharing that same enjoyment that I experienced when penning them to this site. For those that searched them to find a salvation of one kind or another, then I offer an apology. They were not written by a philosopher or an academic scholar but simply by me, a man with few qualifications but a love of life, and all those who treat it as precious as I.

I have, as a highly educated General Practitioner of Medicine once told me, less life to live than all ready lived. I genuinely believe that information had not been gleaned by him from any lecture he may have undergone at Medical School or the symptoms that I displayed, but from something we all have; Common Sense.

Why do we waste what is common to us all?

Could the answer lay, there, in the words themselves? If that innate quality was called Rare Sense or Unsustainable Sense would it be managed and cared for differently or perish the thought, listened and adhered to more often?

This diverse race of ours, is separated from the animal bred by its ability to think and reason, question and explain our decisions coherently, yet we still use force of one kind or another to press our selfish case, when individual so-called values out-weigh those of the vast majority.

Do most of us want war and conflict? No, then why are they so many? Do any of us want worries or insecurities?

When we all reach the end of the line of life, one thing is sure and irrefutable; we can no longer influence those left behind unless we have laid a foundation before we part. As single entities we live such a short time but as a race have survived for thousands, of years. What, I must ask, have the collected intellects of man done to enhance what is common to us all? Are the so many material things that man has created, superior to the damage that has been caused in our stride towards…..this quality of life. Is that the measure of our success?

Where would we all be without the gun and the power that gives? Or the self conviction that we are right, and that those we do not understand, or willing to listen to, are wrong?

This life, this World is common to us all, let us use it well and leave it as a better place for those that follow.

I have been fortunate in this life of mine to have come across some wonderful free-spirited and generous people, but few would measure up against this man Mr. Colin Lively from New York, United States of America.

Live From The UK! Patsy (& Danny) Kemp: The Colin Lively Show Fri., June 8th 2pmEDT

Kate and Bill

JESUS DEATH – 60 SECONDS

For
the next 60 seconds, set aside whatever
you’re doing and take this opportunity!
Let’s see if Satan can stop this…

THE (SCIENTIFIC) DEATH OF JESUS

At the age of 33,
Jesus was condemned to the death penalty.
At the time crucifixion was the “worst” death. Only the worst criminals condemned to be crucified. Yet it was
even more dreadful for Jesus, for unlike other criminals condemned to death by crucifixion Jesus was nailed to the cross by His hands and feet, rather than tied…

Each nail was 6 to 8 inches long.
The nails were driven into His wrist. Not into His palms as is commonly portrayed. There’s a tendon in the wrist that
extends to the shoulder. The Roman guards knew that when the nails were being hammered into the Wrist, that tendon would tear and break, forcing Jesus to use His back muscles to support himself, so that He could breathe.
Both of His feet were nailed together. Thus He was forced to support Himself on the single nail that impaled His feet to the cross. Jesus could not support himself with His legs for long because of the pain,so He was forced to alternate between arching His back and using his legs just to continue to breath. Imagine the struggle, the pain, the suffering, the courage.

Jesus endured this reality for over 3 hours.
Yes, over 3 hours! Can you imagine this kind of suffering? A few minutes before He died,
Jesus stopped bleeding. He was simply pouring water from his wounds.

From common images we see wounds to His hands and feet and even the spear wound to His side…
But do we remember the many wounds made to his body. A hammer driving large nails through the wrists, the feet overlapped
and a nail hammered through the arches, then a Roman guard piercing His side with a spear. And… before the nails and the spear, Jesus was whipped and beaten. The whipping was so severe that it tore the flesh from His body. The beating so horrific that His
face was torn and his beard ripped from His face. The crown of thorns (two to three inch thorns) cut deeply into His scalp.
Most men would not have survived this torture.

He had no more blood to bleed out, only water poured from His wounds. The human adult body contains about 5 liters.
(just over a gallon) of blood.
Jesus poured all 5 liters of his blood;
He had three nails hammered into His body; a crown of thorns on His head and, beyond that, a Roman soldier who stabbed a spear into His chest.
All these without mentioning the humiliation He passed after carrying His own cross for almost 2 kilometers, while the crowd spat in his face and threw stones (the cross beam was almost 30 kg of weight, to which His hands were nailed).

Jesus had to endure this experience, so that you may have free access to God.
So that your sins can be “washed” away.
All of them, with no exception!
Don’t ignore this.

JESUS
CHRIST DIED…FOR YOU!

For you, who now read this e-mail.
Do not believe that He only died for others
(those who go to church or for pastors, bishops, etc).

He died for you!
It is easy to e-mail jokes or silly photos, but when it comes to God,
sometimes we feel ashamed to forward a message about Him on to others.
We are worried of what they may think.
Accept the reality, the truth, that
JESUS IS THE ONLY SALVATION FOR THE WORLD.

God has special plans for YOU!
Share this with all your friends…about what He went through to save you.
Really think about it!

May God bless you!

For the next 60 seconds, set aside what you’re doing and take
this opportunity! Let’s see if Satan can stop this.
All you have to do is:

Pray for the person who sent this message to you.
Take a moment to appreciate the power of God in your life, as you do what pleases Him.
If you are not ashamed to do this, please, follow Jesus’ instructions.
He said (Matthew 10:32 & 33): “Everyone therefore who acknowledges me before others, I also will acknowledge
before My Father in heaven; but whosoever denies Me before others, I also will deny before My Father in heaven”.

Yes, I love God. He is my source of life and my Savior.
He keeps me alive and safe, both day and night.

Without Him, I am nothing, but with Him “I can do all things through Him
who strengthens me”. Philippians 4:13.

FOREVER.

I’m five today. I don’t know what being five means, but yesterday no one gave me presents and today I’ve got tons. I like being five. Mum said that it means that she has been my Mum for five years but she has been there forever. Does five years mean forever then? I love my Mum and I do know what love means. It means hugs and kisses and snuggles under warm blankets against each other or curdled up, on what they call a settee, watching Sponge Bob in his brown Square pants. I know my colours and I can count.

At play school I learnt some letters now, at proper School, I can recite what the teacher calls an alphabet. I’m clever they say, but I don’t know what clever means. Mum says that she will love me forever, does that mean it will stop today?

My Dad is a big man. Much taller than me, and when he comes home he always lifts me up almost to the top of the room and gives me a kiss, a big wet one on my lips, then he tickles me and makes me laugh. I love my Dad and I know he loves me because he says so every morning and every night. Sometimes he stays home on what they call weekends, and we go to a park where he pushes me on the swings and pretends to be a monster chasing me, but when he gets tired we have to go home. I wish everyday could be a weekend, then the three of us could cuddle up together all warm and cosy especially when it has been cold outside.

I’ve got a puppy dog. I suppose he’s called a puppy because he is smaller than me. If I was as small as him would I be called a puppy boy? His name is Charlie, he’s brown and white and furry. Sometimes he gets bigger, standing on his back legs and licking my face. Mum tells him off. But when she isn’t looking I let him do it, bending down and kissing him back. I love Charlie and Charlie loves me. I can tell this by the way he wags his tail whenever I call him or when I eat my lunch. Then, that tail swishes the floor as he sits beneath me catching my curbs and carries on as he’s thanked for saving Mum time in clearing up the mess that I always make. I wish I had a tail then I could wag it when I see my Mum and then Dad when he comes home from what he calls his work.

I hope Mum, Dad and Charlie love me tomorrow, because that’s when Dad said he will see me again.

“See you in the morning big man, when I get home from work, before you’re off to School.”

It’s a bit confusing, if Mum and Dad have been there forever will forever be there tomorrow, and if so, will it be there the next day and the next. How long is forever? Mum and Charlie are with me now, all of us on the clean shiny floor looking at the parcels underneath the Television and they are all for me. I’m not sure where to start. There are some in pretty blue and red bags with a white ribbons around, and some wrapped in multi coloured paper with the number Five in bold letters. Maybe I’ll start with them. Mum is sitting beside me in her red dressing gown smelling of soap and freshness, the kind that comes out of that bottle beside the bath that we share every morning. She has a special smell, a Mum smell. Dad smells differently especially on those weekends when he’s spicy and warm with a smooth face not rough and spiky as when he leaves for his work. Charlie’s never leaves us for long, often getting under Mums feet or caught up in the washing on the floor in front of what they calling a washing machine. Mum says she’ll put him in there one day if he’s not careful. He smells cold beside me and a bit like the toilet after I have been in there. He’s just come in from the garden and I wish he would sit the other side of the rug, but his tail is rubbing against the floor making that swishing noise that shows that he loves us both. It’s not his fault that he smells so bad, it’s not as though he can use the bathroom up stairs, his legs are too short.

“Go on Tommy, open this one first, it’s from Auntie Joan, she normally buys you something nice.”

Auntie Joan lives a car ride away and always has a full sweet jar in her kitchen next to the fruit bowl with tons of oranges in it. I love Auntie Joan and her sweets and oranges. I always take some extras sweets for my brother but he doesn’t like oranges. I wish he did.

I love my brother Phillip but in a different way. I can’t touch him you see, and wish I could, then he might tickle me just like Dad. I’ve told Mum and Dad about him, how it’s him that make the mess in my room and not me. How he will finish what I leave on my plate, the peas and the cauliflower that I don’t like, but they say he’s not there. It’s kind of strange really because I only met him last week, so he hasn’t been there forever. We talk a lot and when I’m playing with my cars he lets me win all the races. Sometimes I play hide and seek with him, but he can never find me. I have to call out to let him know where I am. It’s not as much fun as the races, because I always know where he’s hiding and can find him easily. He’s sitting alongside me now and I wish Mum could see him, then they could talk and we would be able to go to the park together where playtime would be longer.

He’s invisible to Mum and Dad, and I think Charlie too although sometimes Charlie looks a bit quizzical, dropping his head from side to side, when we’re speaking to one another during our games. I wonder if Phillip loves Charlie. I’ll ask him later. Right now Phillip’s shoving and poking me, he wants to open that great big box just past Auntie Joan’s present, the one that two men carried in a little while ago.

Its a light shade of brown with arrows on all sides and the words THIS WAY UP at the pointed ends. I wonder if it’s Mum and Dad’s surprise and there’s a real live brother inside. One that all of us can see and love forever. How long is forever?

The End.