I Believe In Mother Goose

About the Book

Paul Chambers, now in his eighties, has never lost his sense of fun, or indeed his memories of his beloved wife, Joan. The semi-autobiographical I Believe in Mother Goose is another of his novels that dips into past times, telling a sometimes poignant, sometimes comical story of their life together.

A story:
Of Paul's initiation into the world of computers at a time when such things were the size of wardrobes.

Of his climb to the dizzy heights of branch management, and the manoeuvring needed along the way.

Of the disgust of Joan's old dad (who always tagged along on their holidays) when he was told of the plan to go camping in France: 'Camping? France? I was there in the war. It's full of trenches!'

Of Roy Castle unwitting participation in Paul's con trick.

Of a police helicopter being called out to search for Paul's absconding, schizophrenic brother, Stephen.

Of Stephen's pal telling amazing stories of his imaginary adventures, like jumping off the towering Tyne Bridge and landing on a policeman.

Of Joan and Paul's encounters with strange and peculiar folk on their caravanning trips abroad.

Of elder brother, vague Don, living in a council house with a big, unreported hole in the roof, a bigger hole in the ceiling and a bucket on the floor - he didn't want to 'bother the council'.

Of unfortunate, brave brother Cecil, suffering from the scourge of mulitple sclerosis, but cheerful to the end.

And of a courageous wife who fought through a succession of illnesses and operations before finally succumbing to cancer.

Leaving Paul the memory of her smiles.

About the Author

Paul's life has been one of ups and downs. But mostly ups. He was born in the 1920s to a tram driver father who hailed from Kent, and to a mother who was the daughter of Irish immigrants. They lived in 'mucky Gateshead', not far from the gas works - he couldn't go down much further than that.

Paul's father died of consumption (as it was called then) in his early fifties, leaving the family somewhat poverty-stricken. The upcoming second World War, paradoxically, improved their straits, and during the conflict Paul followed his brother into the Armed Forces. His brother handled a Bofors machine-gun in the RAF, Paul handled a pen in the Pay Corps.

'Stick in at school and you will go far', his father, on his deathbed, had said to Paul. His Dad must have been a soothsayer - Paul finished up in India. That's where he started his writing career - writing short stories for the magazine of the 83rd Battalion, Royal Army Pay Corps, Meerut - 'The Monsoon'.

His writing prowess lay dormant for almost sixty years. He was too busy on other things: like finding a smashing girl, courtship, marriage, begetting children, and, of course, putting his nose to that grindstone called commerce. It was only after he reached the giddy heights of branch management that he felt he could relax and watch his minions wear their noses out.

And it was only after he had retired and his treasured wife had succumbed to cancer that he took up his pen again, to write a trilogy, mainly in her memory (of which I believe in Mother Goose is the third novel), describing the life of a guy remarkably like Paul.