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    When it Snows
    When it Snows
    When it Snows
    Ebook58 pages58 minutes

    When it Snows

    By Tony Spencer

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    About this ebook

    When it rains, they say, it rains. So when it snows ... well, it's a cold day in Barry's personal hell. He is full of barely-repressed anger. Six years after his divorce, he is frozen out from his children and even his pet cat hates him. He has lost his business, he's out of work, up to his eyeballs in debt, his car has broken down on the by-pass, his library books are almost overdue and now, to cap it all it's snowing. When it snows in your life, it really snows. A romantic story containing adult themes, a little sex and a f-f- hell of a lot of gratuitous profanity. It was intended to be a comedy, but who else has my funny bone?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherTony Spencer
    Release dateMar 21, 2013
    ISBN9781301540938
    When it Snows
    Author

    Tony Spencer

    Have published 34 books since 1998, one out of print, 22 available on Smashwords, 6 on Wattpad and 5 on Amazon. I started writing fiction in 2012. I brought out a glut of little books as soon as I realised self publishing was an option, but now I am settling down to produce one novel and a collection of other stories each year. A grandfather of three angels, happily married for 42 years to another angel, living in Hampshire, England, about 35 miles west of London. I had worked for over 40 years as a printer and proofreader but retired in 2015 and hoping to spend more time writing. Also an editor of a community magazine, football programmes and have written weekly sports reports now for almost 20 years in local newspapers. Now concentrating on romantic fiction, mostly short stories, with occasional novellas and novels. Proud to be a member of the KCEditions independent publishing house of Canada.

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      Book preview

      When it Snows - Tony Spencer

      When It Snows

      Tony Spencer

      Published by Tony Spencer at Smashwords

      Copyright © 2013 Tony Spencer

      Smashword Edition, License Notes

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      The sudden cold snap at the beginning of March caught everyone on the hop, even though the Met Office had been forecasting snow for a week and were very specific in the detail of their forecast just the night before the snow came.

      So I woke that morning to about two inches of very icy snow sitting on top of half an inch of solid ice from earlier rain falling onto frozen ground. It was very windy in sharp gusts and the tiny ice crystals of snow were blowing into drifts up to a foot deep. The Council had been sending gritting lorries up and down the Esplanade and High Street all night. I knew that for a fact, I saw them trundling by and spraying me with sharp rock crystals on my way home just after midnight from the Pizza Dreem shop in the High Street after an evening's casual temp work doing pizza deliveries for bang on the minimum wage.

      I had to make my way back into the High Street again first thing in the morning to see if the Acme Placement Bureau could find me another couple of days' casual work this week, Harinder, the pizza shop proprietor, had already said he didn't need me any more as his sick dude was now okaydoky, as he put it.

      The monthly mortgage and ground rent on my place were both due on Friday and I was more or less an Isaac short. Also, I had to walk down to the Bureau that morning even though the pavements down the coastal town’s streets were like sheets of glass.

      My piece-of-shit 20-odd-year-old classic Jaguar XJ12 rust-bucket gas-gurgling excuse for a fucking motorcar packed up last week and I had no way of repairing it or of even getting it home from where I left it, conked out miles away on the by-pass. I had asked my old mate Macleod to pick it up and take it to his shop a couple of days ago but he just laughed at me. One favour too many on my part I guess.

      When I was a kid, fifty years ago now, my parents brought me, Barry Chamberlain, and my two older brothers and a sister down to this resort every single summer. There used to be a rather rundown holiday camp on the outskirts of the town and, although tacky as tuppence, it was perfect for young families who didn't have the resources for much else. Us kids were organised into various activities all day so we were knackered and slept like corpses by nightfall. There was entertainment and cheap booze laid on for the parents in the evening, with chalet patrols on hand to ensure the kids were safe asleep. We kids loved those visits to the seaside, our mums and dads loved it too, and the owners loved it most of all, so they could take their own holidays in the Caribbean.

      When I had kids of my own, two boys from my first marriage, we brought them down here regularly. Even brought my second wife and kid down too for a while when Katherine was a small girl, Shirley and I both sharing similar memories of our parents bringing us down when we were kids, although we never actually met each other back then.

      So there I was, six years ago at the age of 52, with no family around (Shirley, the second missus had fucked off and left me after an affair with her boss, my daughter thereafter wanted fuck-all to do with me and, of my first family, one boy had gone gas drilling to Canada, the other to Australia for aquatic research, the first missus? Fuck-knows or cares where the hell she went).

      Thus I decided to move down to the resort that held such wonderful memories for me to live there permanently. I didn't just go blind, I took out a 70% loan at stupid-fucking-percent interest for the 30-year lease of a small café with a two-bed and a tiny studio flat above. I pulled on a masculine pinnie and a chef's hat and thought I was set comfortably and extremely happily making all-day breakfasts and basic short order lunches for

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