Tom Kane's Blog

A word can change a mind. A sentence can change a life. A book can change the world

image of bubbling wine must

I’m pleased to say my wine making from my homegrown grapes is working well, so far. I’ve got a bad head cold and even I can smell the stuff! If you missed the start of this experiment you can read it here.

You have to keep the temperature as warm and constant as you can, so it’s an advantage living in Cyprus because in August when the grapes are harvested, it’s pretty hot.

This must is bubbling away in my office at home, so I need to clear out my garden shed next year to build something to do the same job outside, but in much larger quantities. And no, I’m not into bootlegging. This exercise is to fulfill an ambition I’ve had since I was a teenager and started work in a wine merchants. I have always had the hankering to grow my own fruit and especially grow grapes and then make my own wine from those grapes.

As far as ambition goes, I’m a simple man having achieved my main two aims of working for myself and having a book published. If the wine works I may also attempt creating my own sherry or even port next year, but I’ll draw the line at a still and making my own brandy!

Copyright Tom Kane © 2018

If you like what you read here, take a look at my FREE BOOKS by clicking here. You will see my FREE BOOKS and indeed other books I’ve written that will cost you a very small fortune, usually from $0.99 to $2.99 – If nothing else, I’m an inexpensive author. Check out my website by clicking here.

 

image of grapes on a vine

The very last grapes on the vines were starting to look a little past their sell by date. It was either let them rot & make a mess on the path, or cut them down and throw them away, eat them or maybe there’s another option. I decided to test my theory for next year… I would make wine out of these grapes and if I get a bottle out of what’s left I should get a dozen or more bottles next year.

image of grapes

So here’s the remaining grapes in a large stainless steel pan. If you look closely at the darker grape to the bottom-left of the image you will see it has a covering of what looks like dust. This is natural yeast, called flor. Once you press or in my case mash the grapes, the natural sugars will react with the natural yeast and eventually you will have alcohol.

image of grape must

Mashing up the grapes and you will end up with something called must, which you can see in the picture above. This is the grape skins, the parts of the vine the grapes were attached to, the grape juice and that all important flor. The must needs to be covered and kept in a warm environment and a lid needs to be placed on top. The lid is to keep bugs out, but it must also allow air to escape. The must will start to bubble and that’s the yeast working on the sugar. Putting a lid on that doesn’t allow the air to escape can lead to an explosion. I have a lid that allows air to escape, so hopefully I won’t wake up to a newly decorated wall over the next week or so.

Of course, you can go to the expense of buying all the jars, airlocks and other paraphernalia, but I prefer the au natural approach.

One other thing you need to consider is how long you leave the grape skins and parts of the vine in your must. These have a compound called tannin in them and the more tannin the longer the wine will be preserved. Red grape skins will also colour the wine, that’s why red wine is made with red grapes and white with green grapes. However, you can make Rosé wine by leaving the red grapes in the must for a shorter period of time.

I’ll post more on this as and when anything happens… including total disaster. It is after all an experiment.

Copyright Tom Kane © 2018

If you like what you read here, take a look at my FREE BOOKS by clicking here. You will see my FREE BOOKS and indeed other books I’ve written that will cost you a very small fortune, usually from $0.99 to $2.99 – If nothing else, I’m an inexpensive author. Check out my website by clicking here.

 

 

image of tomatoes and garlic

It’s getting toward the end of the year, my tomatoes are done and the grapes on the vine are almost finished. What’s left of the grapes are being allowed to shrivel up in the sun to form currants and raisins which I’ll use in the fruit loaf I bake that my wife loves to eat.

Let’s face it, it’s the time of year and so the garlic is also finished and the herbs are all dead or dying back. It’s a bit of a sad and depressing time because the winter’s on its way.

One bright point is the oranges & lemons are ripening nicely though and will be ready in the New Year. I’m also waiting for the winter flowering pansies and viola to pop out and get a bit more colour in the garden over winter. So, I’ve a little more time on my hands and I’ve decided it’s experiment time… okay, desperation time really. Salad this year has been bad. Slugs ate the early shoots despite my best efforts and the heat this year has been a killer for what was left. But, if nothing else, I’m a ‘never give up’ sort of person and I’m trying again with the salad.

I’ve set some salad seeds which should be okay growing probably into October, maybe even longer over here in Cyprus, assuming the weather cools a little, which it seems to be doing a little. I’ve used some leftover Suttons spicy salad mix and Seedball salad mix. On the growing front it’s a dead heat, so watch this space for the taste race.

Next year I’m planning on more tomatoes and more vines but also a different set of fruits. Strawberries, Inca Berries

image inca berries

Inca Berries – Sutton Seeds UK

and Chenopodium.

image Chenopodium - Sutton Seeds UK

Chenopodium – Sutton Seeds UK

If you have no idea what Chenopodium are then join the club. I hadn’t heard of them either. Chenopodium are better known as Strawberry Sticks. It’s a strawberry like fruit on a stick. As the plant grows the young arrow shaped leaves can be eaten raw in salads or they can be cooked like spinach. But by the end of September the small but bright red fruit can be eaten fresh and can also be used as a red food colouring. So that should be interesting. I hope it doesn’t turn out to be ever present and always growing like Purslane which just grows everywhere now!

My recent addition of a fig tree is doing well so I expect a few figs to eat next Christmas. I’m now on the look-out for a mango tree. Now I know I can grow a mango tree in a pot, but it can take up to three years before the tree bears fruit and that’s from buying an established plant. Growing from seed is out because that can take eight years before you see a fruit, which means at my age I may not be around to see it fruit. So, established tree it is… but there aren’t that many nurseries that sell them. I know they are out there, somewhere, because I’ve seen them. So this spring, the Great Mango Plant Hunt is on!

Copyright Tom Kane © 2018

If you like what you read here, take a look at my FREE BOOKS by clicking here. You will see my FREE BOOKS and indeed other books I’ve written that will cost you a very small fortune, usually from $0.99 to $2.99 – If nothing else, I’m an inexpensive author. Check out my website by clicking here.

 

 

 

image African Marigold

Homegrown African Marigold

It’s not super hard to grow plants in Cyprus. After I’ve sown seeds I love the feeling I get when the first shoots appear. That feeling is even better when the shoots are from seeds I’ve collected. Even better when the original seeds were bought.

The most successful I’ve been is with African Marigolds. A small pack of 20 odd seeds has turned into hundreds of seeds which come back year after year.

image African Marigold Seeds

African Marigold Seeds

These African Marigold seeds are among a collection I have ranging from tomato, to primrose to black & white grape seeds.

My black grape vines are from seeds bought from a company in china and are so successful, with a bumper crop of big and juicy sweet black grapes, I may even been attempting wine production next year.

So now I’m an avid collector of seeds. There’s a down side to all of this though. Not only have I not enough pots to go round in the spring, in the autumn I haven’t enough space to store all the seeds.

Maybe I should just buy some land, grow lots of fruit and flowers and then set-up a stall by the side of the road. Who cares if I don’t sell anything, at least I won’t go hungry.

image of a fruit stall

Copyright Tom Kane © 2018

If you like what you read here, take a look at my FREE BOOKS by clicking here. You will see my FREE BOOKS and indeed other books I’ve written that will cost you a very small fortune, usually from $0.99 to $2.99 – If nothing else, I’m an inexpensive author. Check out my website by clicking here.

 

 

image from the book The Brittle Sea

This is a first draft, so please forgive spelling & grammatical errors. Context and characters may change between now and the final publication date.

When published as an eBook and paperback at the end of 2018, this book will be the first in a trilogy: The Brittle Sea, The Brittle Land and The Brittle Sky.

The Days Grow Longer

Four weeks on from the departure of the Lady Jane and Maggie had grown a little accustomed to her new daily routine without Richard. There was little to keep her occupied, so she made almost daily trips to a small library where she would sit engrossed in stories of Greek Heroes and exotic adventures in the far-flung British Empire and classic American and British fiction. Her thirst for knowledge was insatiable and not simply grounded in fiction, she also studied business practices and accounting. It was almost as if she were an empty vessel and her soul cried out for the vessel to be filled with knowledge.

It was late morning, not long after she had arrived at the library during one of these almost day long trips, that Maggie felt a little overcome with sickness. She was lost in the time of Achilles and the Trojan war while she ate an early lunch of a hard-boiled egg and some sliced cold meat. A sudden bloating of her stomach and a queasy sickness made her gasp and put the book she was reading to one side.

The kindly old lady librarian she had befriended had a look of concern on her face as she passed Maggie with a handful of books. “Are you well, my dear?”

Maggie nodded as the feeling quickly passed. “I think I was eating to fast?” Maggie said with a smile. She stifled a yawn and decided too much of Homer’s Iliad in one day was not good for digestion.

The walk home was punctuated with small bouts of the same queasy feeling and it was all Maggie to do to make it safely back to the apartment without stopping.

That night, Maggie dreamed of a farm where she lived with a small boy and an old man and woman. She knew them, but they couldn’t see her. She shouted to them, but nothing came out of her mouth. Maggie screamed for attention, but they went about their daily lives without seeing her. Maggie awoke in a cold sweat shouting in a strange language. As she came fully awake and the dawn was creeping through the heavy curtains, Maggie sat up in bed and fumbled for the glass of water on her bedside table. Taking a long drinking, Maggie suddenly gagged, and bile welled up into her mouth. Struggling out of the bed and into the kitchen she only just managing to grasp the sink before she lost the contents of her stomach.

 

Blackmore had provided Maggie with more than enough money to survive for over three months, so she was trying to lower her food intake, but if anything, she was beginning to eat a little more than usual. It was during her next visit to the library a few days later that the sickness welled up and Maggie swayed a little but managed to make her way to the public bathroom. There she doused her face with cold water and leaned against the cold white porcelain sink, waiting for the sickness to pass. Maggie stood erect, gathered her things and made her way out of the library into the chilly late afternoon’s weak sunshine.

Back at home, she made tea and hoped her queasiness was the result of some passing bug. But the more she dwelled on the subject, the more she feared something else was the cause of her discomfort.

It was two days later, when Mary James had called to take Maggie for afternoon tea in the local tea-toom, the same queasiness overcame her. Maggie suddenly blanched and let out an almost inaudible, “Oh no. Not again.”

Mary looked at her friend with grave concern as “What’s the matter? You look as white as a sheet.”

“I feel a little sickly. This is the third time in as many days. I do hope I’m not sickening for something.”

Mary placed her teacup on the saucer and sat back in her chair. The tea-room was mostly empty, and nobody was within earshot of them. “How long has Richard been away?”

“Richard? Why, nearly a month now,” Maggie said, dabbing at the perspiration on her forehead with a handkerchief. “Why do you ask?”

“And how long since your last…” Mary left the questions end slip away into the ether, instead giving Maggie a raised eyebrow and a you know stare.

At first Maggie didn’t understand and then the penny dropped. “Oh, I see. Well, since my ordeal I haven’t had anything like that… you know. Doctor Henderson, that is Richard’s Doctor, tells me it will be awhile before I start again. Why do you ask… oh, dear? You don’t think. No, it can’t be we…”

The silence between the two women was palpable.

“Did you and Richard…”

Maggie nodded, her face suddenly going from pale white to a deep red flush. “Yes.”

“Just once?”

Maggie nodded, then shook her head.

“More than once?”

Maggie nodded. “Yes… a lot more.”

“Oh, dear God, Maggie. Are you pregnant?”

Copyright Tom Kane © 2018

This is a first draft, so please forgive spelling & grammatical errors. Context and characters may change between now and the final publication date.

When published as an eBook and paperback at the end of 2018, this book will be the first in a trilogy: The Brittle Sea, The Brittle Land and The Brittle Sky.

To read other extracts please click HERE and scroll down to see all available chapters.

If you wish to leave a comment, please do so at the foot of the page. Please click the like button if you enjoyed reading this excerpt. Encouragement is always gratefully accepted.

This book is intended for publication during the winter of 2018.

If you like what you read here, take a look at my FREE BOOKS by clicking the link at the top of the page or click here. You will see my FREE BOOKS and indeed other books I’ve written that will cost you a very small fortune, usually from $0.99 to $2.99 – If nothing else, I’m an inexpensive author. Check out my books by clicking here.

 

image of sports vests

Just Cool Performance Vests From TigerBites

Don’t worry, no animals or children were harmed in the writing of this blog, there’s not a squashed turtle in sight and I’m thankfully not going insane… yet!

When I’m not writing I have my other hat on, that of a t-shirt designer. No, not designing the actual t-shirt, but taking other people’s designs and recreating them on t-shirts, polo shirts, hoodies, sports kit, school uniforms, chef’s jackets and even aprons.

I design the logo for creating the finished effect in both embroidery and as pressed vinyl. Usually we create the embroidery on the front and the vinyl is pressed under high pressure (no ironing on with us at TigerBites) on the back, as you can see from the top picture.

Mostly is pretty uncomplicated, but on occasions the designs can take a lot of hours to complete.

As you can see in the picture below. each individual component is cut from the vinyl, the excess weeded out and the remaining object placed on the garment and pressed.

image of a vinyl logo being pressed

This particular design amounts to 44 individual components that have to be cut by machine, weeded out by hand and then pressed by colour onto the garment.

The weeding is pretty painstaking sometimes, as you can see below.

image of a vinyl weeder

All in all though the finished effect is pretty good, as you can see from the top picture.

You can sum up my life in five little words… Design, Weed, Press, Write, Repeat. At least it’s varied. Today a Turtle, tomorrow it could be something completely different…

image decorated t-shirt

…a stag party or…

image decorated hen party t-shirt

… a hen party.

Tom Kane (c) 2018

image from the book The Brittle Sea

This is a first draft, so please forgive spelling & grammatical errors. Context and characters may change between now and the final publication date.

To read other extracts please click HERE and scroll down to see all available chapters.

If you wish to leave a comment, please do so at the foot of the page. Please click the like button if you enjoyed reading this excerpt. Encouragement is always gratefully accepted.

Venezuela

A voyage form New York down the eastern coast of North America, through the Caribbean Sea and on past Central America to eventual dock at the northern part of South America was no mean feat in the days of sail, but the coming of steam power saw a surge in such voyages both for profit and for pleasure. True, it was faster transit time in the age of steam than in the age of sail, but even so it was still a journey that would take the Lady Jane a little over a week and the Lady Jane’s captain found no pleasure in this first stage of his three-month voyage.

Blackmore did his best to avoid the US trade delegation as best he could, but Gordon Bellagon had made it clear he was to suck up to these delegates as much as possible, a pathetic attempt to curry favour from New York and Washington’s elite. Blackmore did not enjoy the process of glad-handing anymore than he enjoyed meal-times surrounded by politicians and businessmen hell-bent on enjoying their jaunt away from their wives, sweethearts and families. As the days passed, the evening meal became a raucous affair and often ended in drunken food fights that Blackmore had to endure. It wasn’t until the penultimate night of the voyage to Venezuela that Blackmore decided enough was enough and brought the rowdy proceedings to an end with a well-placed shout of “Order!” After that the delegation seemed to realise who they were and where they were and their last night at sea was by far a more gentile affair and greatly appreciated by Blackmore and his officers who attended.

On leaving the ship, the delegation to a man thanked Blackmore both for his hospitality and for his courage to put a stop to their over-the-top behaviour. Blackmore was thankful for their thanks, but never the less realised that he had a ship to run, not a kindergarten and couldn’t wait for the day he would be with Maggie.

Blackmore watched from the gangplank aboard ship as the contrite delegation filed down, some more unsteadily than others, and were whisked away in a series of carriages.

“God help the American people if that’s the best they have to offer for politicians,” Blackmore muttered under his breath and made his way back up to the bridge, where he met his First-Officer. “I want as quick a turnaround as possible, David,” Blackmore said.

“Aye, sir. We will do our best.”

“I’m going to my cabin for a while, David. I need some time on my own after dealing with those people,” he added, nodding in the general direction of the quayside. As he started toward the exit to the bridge, the door opened and the telegraph operator, Mr. Archer, entered.

“Message from Mr. Bellagon, Captain.” The young man handed the paper to Blackmore and stepped respectfully to one side as the Captain read the brief note.

“David,” Blackmore said.

“Aye Captain?”

Blackmore handed the note to David James as he walked to Blackmore’s side. “Seems our old engineer is missing. The Arabia is late sailing due to his tardiness. Bellagon wants to know if I know where he is.”

David James read the brief message and then handed it back to his captain. “Why would you know where he is? Probably in some whore-house and drunk as a skunk. He’s done that to us on more than one occasion.”

Blackmore nodded and handed the message back to his telegraph operator. “Tell Mr. Bellagon I have no idea where his nephew is.”

The young man nodded and left the bridge.

“It seems I was one of the last few people to have spoken to Collins.”

“You were?”

Blackmore nodded. “We had words at the Arabia’s birth.” Blackmore did not offer any further information or explanation and left the bridge, leaving behind a puzzled David James.

 

Finders Keepers

“And you say you found this on the quayside?” Captain Hanson of the Arabia held a fob-watch in the palm of his hand and waited for an answer from the crewman.

“I did, sir. That I did. Down by the gangplank. So, I picked it up to give it to the officer of the watch, but I forget.”

Hanson smiled at the man. “Mulroney are you telling me that in the time it took you to walk from the bottom of the gangplank to the top, to where the officer of the watch, Mr. Cotton, was standing, you forgot about the watch.”

The bridge was deserted apart from the captain, Jack Cotton his second officer and crewman Mulroney.

“I did sir, completely went out of my mind.”

“Until we found it during a routine search for a stolen item, an item the owner said you stole, which we also found in your kit-bag with the fob-watch.” Jack Cotton was young for an officer, but he wasn’t stupid. “You’re a regular Jackdaw aren’t you, Mulroney?”

“A fob-watch owned by another captain, Richard Blackmore, according to the inscription on the back,” Hanson said, turning the watch over. “You could easily have handed this in once you had examined it… no, don’t tell me another lie, Mulroney. You knew who this belonged to and you never said a word.”

Mulroney stared ahead, saying nothing.

The door to the bridge opened and Hanson’s first officer, Fred Blake, entered. “Sorry to disturb captain but I think you need to come and see this.”

Hanson sighed, annoyed at the disturbance when he had specifically given orders he was not to be disturbed. “We’ll carry on with this later, Mulroney,” Hanson said as he walked to the door. Blake kept the bridge door open for his captain, closing it after he had walked through. “What’s so urgent, Blake?”

“We’ve found a body.”

“A body? Where?”

“Seems it’s been trapped underwater for a while, by the propeller we think.”

“We being?”

“The new engineer and me. We were inspecting the ship, at his insistence, since Collins’ disappearance indicated to him the engineer may be lacking in…” Blake left unsaid what he and the captain both thought about Arthur Collins.

The pair were making the way to the gangplank when the captain suddenly stopped in his tracks. “Don’t tell me what I think you are about to say. You’ve found Collins?”

“Aye, sir. We think it’s him.”

“Think? Don’t you recognise him?”

“No sir, his body is too badly mangled. But the work-overall the body is wearing has Arthur Collins embroidered on it. The state of the body indicates he may have fallen between the ship and the quayside. It’s not a pretty sight.”

The two men continued the short journey to the quayside where the new engineer was standing beside a body covered by a sheet. Hanson lifted the sheet and inspected the corpse. A few minutes passed, and he dropped the sheet.

“It’s certainly Collins, I recognise the work-overall. The poor bastard was probably drunk. Well Mr. Blake, inform the Harbourmaster and ask him to inform the police. They will need to ascertain the circumstances of Collins’ demise.”

Copyright Tom Kane © 2018

This is a first draft, so please forgive spelling & grammatical errors. Context and characters may change between now and the final publication date.

To read other extracts please click HERE and scroll down to see all available chapters.

If you wish to leave a comment, please do so at the foot of the page. Please click the like button if you enjoyed reading this excerpt. Encouragement is always gratefully accepted.

This book is intended for publication during the winter of 2018.

If you like what you read here, take a look at my FREE BOOKS by clicking the link at the top of the page or click here. You will see my FREE BOOKS and indeed other books I’ve written that will cost you a very small fortune, usually from $0.99 to $2.99 – If nothing else, I’m an inexpensive author. Check out my books by clicking here.

 

image of a meadow

I’m committed now, I’m going to bomb my concrete garden.

Don’t worry (or maybe you’re clapping with delight?) I’m not using explosives. I’m going to bomb my garden with seeds, seedballs to be precise, from the lovely people at seedball.co.uk

In case you’re not keeping up with these posts, I have a concrete garden in Cyprus. A few pointers here:-

  1. Cyprus is in the Eastern Mediterranean sea, not far from Turkey and Syria.
  2. Cyprus is hot.
  3. I don’t have a garden as such, it’s all concrete – so I use plant pots of all sizes.

So far, I’ve managed to grow grapes, nectarines, oranges, lemons, tomatoes, lettuce and loads of flowers and olives… the olives were by mistake.

Now I will let you into my secret desire. To grow a meadow here in Cyprus.

A stupid dream? Yes, but I’m always an optimist and even though a true meadow needs hooved animals to chomp its way through your meadow and replant the seeds for you, I can hopefully find a way round that. Harvey, one of my English Springer Spaniels, loves the veg I grow so that’s a start… not!

A meadow in pots, well, maybe, but if this works, then there are plenty of areas around here where seed bombs could work… and Cyprus still has a thriving goat farming community.

Seed bombs away… when they get here. Which is the main sticking point, because deliveries to the island from the UK are dire.

Tom Kane © 2018

On the look out for FREE BOOKS? Click here to look at my FREE BOOKS and indeed other books I’ve written that will cost you a very small fortune, usually from $0.99 to $2.99 – If nothing else, I’m an inexpensive author. Check out my books by clicking here.

 

image of a diy composter

Here’s something I’ve been meaning to have a go at for months, and finally got round to it a few weeks ago.

It’s a DIY composter and so far the results are great. Only problem I had was with holes for allowing a flow of air. My old drill packed up so I had to use a weeder… no, not what you’re thinking of.  One of these.

image of a vinyl weeder

Mine’s a straight one with a very sharp point. I use it when I’m pressing vinyl onto t-shirts, as in the image below. It’s used to ‘weed’ out any excess material, like the middle of ‘Os’ etc.

image of vinyl print on a t-shirt

So it took rather a long time to create lots of very small holes for the air flow. There is an advantage though. The holes are many, but so small no critters are going to get inside and make a nest. I’m thinking of ants which are the bane of my garden.

So in went the veg peelings, egg shells, a bit of newspaper, tea-bags, coffee grounds, left over fruit and a bit of soil.

The only other thing I had to ensure was that the lid was well secured.

image of a DIY composter with lid

Back in England I bought a composter, especially designed for composting. One thing the manufacturers didn’t think of was securing the lid. Why secure the lid? Because I went down to the bottom of our 80ft garden to throw stuff into the composter, pulled off the lid and was greeted by a rat the size of a cat chewing away on a carrot. I was back in the house before the lid hit the floor!

So if you follow my example, make sure the lids secure. The rats in Cyprus are even bigger than English rats and then there are the snakes which love to spend the winter under a nice warm compost heap. We’ve already had a snake wintering in the pool-machinery housing. It’s not that I’m afraid of snakes, far from it, but we have two types in Cyprus that are poisonous and one could kill kids, animals and old people. As I’m in the latter category, I am fully aware of the dangers. Think about that one for too long and you’ll have nightmares for a week.

Tom Kane © 2018

On the look out for FREE BOOKS? Click here to look at my FREE BOOKS and indeed other books I’ve written that will cost you a very small fortune, usually from $0.99 to $2.99 – If nothing else, I’m an inexpensive author. Check out my books by clicking here.

 

image of tomatoes

Before anyone asks the obvious question, no I’m not talking about my bottom. I’m talking about my tomatoes. More to the point, why some of my tomatoes have black bottoms. It’s called blossom-end rot, presumably because it’s the blossom end of the tomato that’s rotting. It’s due to either a calcium deficiency or, as in my case, a lack of water. Not through neglect, but through pure stupidity. My tomatoes had blossomed and were starting to fruit when I suddenly realised we were going on holiday to Italy. A neighbour helped out with the watering, but it’s a hefty task to ask and luckily he voluntered. I had put in self-watering bottles but with the Cyprus heat they didn’t last too long.

Luckily all is well and only a few tomatoes rotted. And now it’s the end of the season and the last of the tomatoes are ripening off nicely.

Which is more than I can say for my grapes.

image of grapes on a vine

This is what’s left of one vine after the sparrows had a feast. I didn’t get invited, so I missed out. But they haven’t discovered one of my other vines.

green grapes on a vine

And the vines on the front are a black variety of grape from China. They’re just turning from green to black and ripening off nicely. Very juicy and very sweet when fully ripe, but the skin’s a bit chewy.

I’ve got six vines altogether and this year has been a first for grapes on two of them, so if the other two catch up and I get grapes on all of them next year, I may just make my own wine and name it after my two dogs. Chateau Deux Chien 2019 has a certain ring to it.

image of The 'H' Team

Tom Kane © 2018

On the look out for FREE BOOKS? Click here to look at my FREE BOOKS and indeed other books I’ve written that will cost you a very small fortune, usually from $0.99 to $2.99 – If nothing else, I’m an inexpensive author. Check out my books by clicking here.