Publishing

A note from the Author, John Elliott

 

It was during a late summer hike through the

woods near our home in Weybridge, England, when I

first thought of writing this book about my father. There was a gentle rain falling, not much more than a fine mist really, and my father and I were wearing our wellies (our rubber Wellington boots). You could smell the sweet, deep rich earth infused by the rain as we walked along. A pair of tiny robins were happily splashing away in a puddle just a few feet from us, chirping merrily as they bathed.

 

I was just twelve years old, and loved those adventures with Dad, and always looked forward to our times together like this, looking for excitement wherever it might be found. Before the day was over, the genesis of the book had been formed in my thoughts, and I knew that it was only a matter of time before pen was put to paper.