Annie Christie's That Long Hot Summer
Episode Eight
Genre: Drama
Swearwords: None.
Description: The Great Escape.
Swearwords: None.
Description: The Great Escape.
They sat in a café in Dover and drank hot, strong coffee.
‘How did that ever even happen?’ Daniel asked.
Shelley kissed him. ‘You are a legend,’ she said.
‘What you say – get a room?’ Ammar also smiled. He had good reason to. He was in the UK. He had hope. For a short time.
‘Your English is a bit too good for your own good,’ Shelley laughed.
‘So what now?’ Daniel asked.
When he’d agreed to ‘the plan’, like Ammar, Daniel had never really had time to think further than getting off the boat at Dover.
‘He comes home with us,’ Shelley said. Matter of fact. ‘But he has to go to Croydon first.’
‘Croydon?’ Daniel queried.
‘I’ll go with him,’ she added. ‘You get back up to Salford.’
* * *
Monday morning saw Daniel back at his desk as if nothing had ever happened. As if nothing had changed. But it had. Mike was all ears. Mike loved adventure and this sounded like the mother of all adventures.
‘Back up the truck,’ Mike said. ‘You don’t mean to tell me…’
Daniel nodded. Mike was, unusually, short of words.
‘You’re a legend,’ was all he could say.
‘Shelley said that too,’ Daniel replied. ‘ I’d like to say it was nothing, but it was bloody scary, I can tell you.’
The truck backed up, Mike got full detail on the events of the weekend. Of how on Friday night in the Calais Jungle, Shelley and Daniel had felt so useless. Of how early on Saturday morning, they pledged themselves to do something useful. Something practical. Something real. Even if it was just adding their wee bit to the sum of a very dim light, they could not just leave the Jungle and forget.
Of how the plan was born when they met Ammar. He was a Syrian refugee. While for people in the UK the lines are blurred, there was a very important distinction between refugee and migrant in Ammar’s world. Ammar would have stayed in Syria if he felt he could stay alive in Syria.
Ammar had money. He had a smartphone and, as an aid worker casually observed, he bore a passing resemblance to Daniel. Thus a plan was born. Ridiculous, audacious, illegal, but who saves a life in danger without casting good sense to the wind?
‘Hey, your brother was in a moment ago,’ the aid worker said as Daniel and Shelley walked into the aid tent to ask if there was anything they could do.
Minutes later they found Ammar. He did look at bit like Daniel. Mainly because both were tired, unshaven and dishevelled. Beyond that… well… the similarities ended.
‘It’s people smuggling,’ was Daniel’s first comment when Shelley suggested the plan.
‘It’s an act of humanity,’ she pointed out.
‘It will save my life,’ Ammar said. ‘And if I get to UK I can bring my wife and my children…’
That was enough. In the two hours it took them to hear Ammar’s life story, Daniel became as firmly convinced as Shelley that the risk was worth taking.
‘The only thing that separates me and you,’ he told Ammar, ‘is this.’ He showed Ammar his passport. ‘And it could be you.’ The photograph didn’t lie. It could just as easily be Ammar’s face as Daniel’s on the passport. If you thought about it, Ammar could just as easily have had Daniel’s life if the situation had been different. It was all just an accident of birth.
The plan wasn’t well thought out. It wasn’t within the ‘rules’, but as Shelley pointed out the rulebook was thrown out the window when the Jungle was allowed to come into existence.
So, a poor plan and a lot of determination. What chance of success? You’d not put money on it. But any chance was better than no chance. If they could just help one person… and then they met Susie.
‘Susie was the real legend,’ Daniel told Mike. ‘I think you’d like her.’
‘Did you take her phone number?’ Mike asked.
Daniel shook his head.
‘After all I’ve done for you,’ Mike said.
Daniel didn’t know how to respond.
‘Come on. Get on with the story,’ Mike laughed. ‘I’m kidding you.’
So, the plan all hinged on a passport, a ferry trip and a deal of nerve. It was agreed that Ammar and Shelley would travel back on a ferry from Calais to Dover, on paid tickets with passports. Initially they decided they would buy another ticket for Daniel and it was his job to get on board however he could – failing that he had to find another way home. The flaw in this plan was that obviously at some point someone would ask to see his passport and he wouldn’t have it. But what he did have was sure-fire confirmation that he was a UK citizen, so it shouldn’t be a problem. In theory.
They were still constructing this wobbly plan in one of the jungle cafes, when Susie walked in. She recognised Shelley immediately.
‘Hey, Shell,’ she said. ‘You came to see the show.’
Daniel thought this somewhat inappropriate until he realised that Susie was referring to an actual theatrical performance she was involved in. She was part of a team running drama workshops in the camp.
And she was, it turned out, a master of the art of decoy.
She also explained to a bewildered Daniel that people could work through their psychological problems dramatically.
‘There’s a lot of unemployed actors,’ said Shelley. ‘They don’t all sit at home doing nothing. Some of them have a social conscience. And they have learned the power of drama for social change.’
‘And you’re trained to do that?’ he asked Susie.
‘Well, yes,’ Susie replied.
‘There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy, Mr research chemist,’ Shelley said.
‘Chemist?’ Ammar said. ‘You are a chemist?’
‘Research chemist,’ Daniel replied.
Ammar smiled. ‘Me too,’ he said. ‘In Syria…’
As they debated the ins and outs of their jobs and found they shared more in common than looks, Shelley and Susie worked on the fine detail of the ‘plan’.
Susie didn’t fancy Daniel’s chances of getting back on his own and offered her services to help.
‘I’m an expert in Boalian techniques,’ Susie said. ‘We can make it like Invisible Theatre.’
She was excited. Daniel was just plain scared.
‘Don’t worry,’ Susie said. ‘You’re in the hands of a professional.’
However much she explained to him about Legislative Theatre, Forum Theatre, Invisible Theatre, Daniel still felt like he was in an Absurdist Drama. He said so.
Susie and Shelley laughed.
‘That’s a good one. Life is an Absurdist drama,’ Susie said. ‘Though it’s a pretty dark one at times, isn’t it?’
Daniel didn’t tell them how he felt about drama. Real life was scary enough for him. Fictional representations of real life… that was way beyond his comfort zone. But Susie assured him that all he had to do was follow her lead and it would be okay.
‘And,’ Daniel explained to Mike. ‘She was right. It was pretty easy, really - but I wouldn’t try it again. Or recommend it!’
‘So tell me the plot,’ Mike begged.
Here it is:
Two couples had queued up on the Saturday night for the ferry crossing from Calais to Dover. Three of them had passports. They all had tickets. And smartphones. Shelley and Ammar were the first couple. Somehow, by dint of sleight of hand and slackness on the part of the security (which we’d best not go into because heads might roll, or other people might get ideas – DON’T TRY THIS ONE AT HOME) the passport which saw Ammar through, Daniel’s passport, was somehow spirited back along the queue – an actress called Susie might have had something to do with this – and Susie and Daniel were also waved on to the boat. It wasn’t all that plain sailing actually, because as Daniel’s passport was scanned for a second time, it became clear that it had already been assigned to a ticket number. Susie pulled out all her acting skills and came up with a very plausible – though ridiculous and faintly embarrassing – explanation of why there were two tickets, but managed to assure everyone that there was only one Daniel.
‘I’m still not really sure how we got away with it,’ Daniel said.
‘Somewhere between identity theft and misdirection,’ Mike suggested.
‘Well, not identity theft,’ Daniel replied. ‘I lent him my identity for a couple of hours. It seemed like a fair thing to do. After all, I’ve had this life for nearly thirty years and made bugger all use of it. For a couple of hours my identity had some value.’
But back to the play – which is, after all, the thing!
They all four got onto the boat. Two hours later they all four got off. No one was checking properly at Dover. The three with passports got off the ferry first. Daniel hung back. Susie had a ‘crisis’ where she pointed out that she’d left something on board. Would they let her back on? They wouldn’t. Daniel came chasing after her with the ‘lost’ item and as he passed it to her across the barrier, so she palmed him his passport and all, as they say, was sweet.
‘It’s incredible,’ Mike said. ‘I can’t believe you got away with it.’
‘I know,’ Daniel replied. ‘But I guess it was because it was so implausible. So unlikely. No one expects the unexpected…’
‘Or you just got incredibly lucky,’ Mike said.
‘Yeah, you’re probably right,’ Daniel said. ‘But what’s the worst that could have happened? I’d have told them I dropped my passport over the side, or had it robbed and they’d have let me back in. I just wouldn’t have made it back to work in time for work this morning, but I’d have got back. And if we hadn’t, Ammar would still be stuck in the Jungle. Believe me, that’s not a place you want to spend a weekend, never mind a month. Which is how long he’s been there. It’s all so unfair. He’s just a guy. Just like me…’
‘Just like you?’ Mike asked. ‘Poor bloke!’
‘Well not just like me,’ Daniel replied. ‘But pretty much. He was even a research chemist in Syria…’
Mike shook his head. Only Daniel could go into the heart of the Jungle and come back with a guy like himself.
‘Of all the bars in all the world…’ Mike said.
‘What?’ Daniel didn’t get it.
‘I’m proud of you, bro,’ Mike said. ‘But it doesn’t solve the bigger problem.’
‘No,’ Daniel admitted. ‘But Shelley’s working on that.’
‘Meantime, Ammar’s in Croydon.’ Mike grimaced. ‘He’ll be wondering why he bothered…’
* * *
As Mike so reasonably observed, there was a much bigger problem. What they had done as a one-off wasn’t a template that could be adopted by everyone, but as Shelley said, it was time to start thinking outside of the box. It was time for individuals to take things into their own hands. Individuals who weren’t people smugglers. Or if they were people smuggling, to be doing it for the right reasons, not for profit. And that was how Creative Solutions was born.
* * *
It’s time to take stock of where we are in our story. A couple of weeks after they returned from the Jungle, the tropical plants were removed from Daniel’s house – distributed among local care homes. People take precedence over plants, right? Shelley’s boss Mr Zhi was still in residence at her flat – keeping under the radar – but getting in to work a few days a week. Ammar had presented himself at the Border Agency at Croydon. His application was refused, but he had the right to remain in the UK until an appeal – a process which would take months. So he made his way up to Salford. He moved in with Daniel and Shelley. Mike crowdsourced funds for a lawyer for him. But Shelley had a more ‘creative’ solution.
It was all to do with identity. And just ‘while he’s waiting’. It was so audacious that Mike took to it straight away. It was a system bending piece of behaviour that totally appealed to him. It was dangerous of course but everything to do with refugee action is dangerous. There is no obvious or easy solution and staying within the law is a practical impossibility. So despite reservations they all agreed that the risk was worth taking. Good motivation was all that was required. And an acceptance that there might be consequences to be faced.
‘But nothing as bad as the Jungle,’ Daniel said.
‘Nothing as bad as Syria today,’ Ammar said.
That put it back in perspective. The Jungle was about the worst thing Daniel could imagine. Ammar had seen much worse. His family were still experiencing much worse. But putting this plan into action potentially jeopardised his family.
‘I take that risk,’ Ammar said. ‘I have no choice.’
‘We don’t want to make you take unnecessary risks,’ Daniel said.
Mike was more gung ho. He was the mastermind behind the new plan. He had met Ammar and liked him. He wanted to do what he could. For social justice and to buck a stupid system. He was recruited into Creative Solutions big-time. And he could see potential way beyond what Daniel could even imagine. We all need friends, right?
‘No one will ever pick it up,’ Mike said. ‘The system is just too dumb to figure such things out.’
Daniel wasn’t so sure.
‘And you get a summer holiday out of it too,’ Mike told Daniel. ‘Maybe, like, a honeymoon?’
That was a bit far-fetched even for Daniel to imagine. But with Creative Solutions, anything was possible. But that’s how, one Monday morning in July, Daniel and Shelley took off to Lesvos in a rented camper van (crowdsourced by Mike and Susie) and Ammar sat down at a desk beside Mike to start work.
‘I can’t believe this is the best identity you can borrow,’ Mike said to him, ‘but welcome aboard.’
Mike was more than up to the task of explaining to the rest of the staff that Daniel had been given leave of absence for a month and that his replacement was an agency worker. That satisfied those ‘on the ground’. For the purposes of taxation, Daniel’s NI number was working overtime and his pay cheque was still coming in to pay the bills. It was a sort of quantum identity which a creaking, antiquated system would never catch up with. Or that was the plan. Monolithic bureaucracy has its benefits, you see. Who knew? And as you might have already guessed, Mike did get Susie’s phone number. But that’s another story.
‘How did that ever even happen?’ Daniel asked.
Shelley kissed him. ‘You are a legend,’ she said.
‘What you say – get a room?’ Ammar also smiled. He had good reason to. He was in the UK. He had hope. For a short time.
‘Your English is a bit too good for your own good,’ Shelley laughed.
‘So what now?’ Daniel asked.
When he’d agreed to ‘the plan’, like Ammar, Daniel had never really had time to think further than getting off the boat at Dover.
‘He comes home with us,’ Shelley said. Matter of fact. ‘But he has to go to Croydon first.’
‘Croydon?’ Daniel queried.
‘I’ll go with him,’ she added. ‘You get back up to Salford.’
* * *
Monday morning saw Daniel back at his desk as if nothing had ever happened. As if nothing had changed. But it had. Mike was all ears. Mike loved adventure and this sounded like the mother of all adventures.
‘Back up the truck,’ Mike said. ‘You don’t mean to tell me…’
Daniel nodded. Mike was, unusually, short of words.
‘You’re a legend,’ was all he could say.
‘Shelley said that too,’ Daniel replied. ‘ I’d like to say it was nothing, but it was bloody scary, I can tell you.’
The truck backed up, Mike got full detail on the events of the weekend. Of how on Friday night in the Calais Jungle, Shelley and Daniel had felt so useless. Of how early on Saturday morning, they pledged themselves to do something useful. Something practical. Something real. Even if it was just adding their wee bit to the sum of a very dim light, they could not just leave the Jungle and forget.
Of how the plan was born when they met Ammar. He was a Syrian refugee. While for people in the UK the lines are blurred, there was a very important distinction between refugee and migrant in Ammar’s world. Ammar would have stayed in Syria if he felt he could stay alive in Syria.
Ammar had money. He had a smartphone and, as an aid worker casually observed, he bore a passing resemblance to Daniel. Thus a plan was born. Ridiculous, audacious, illegal, but who saves a life in danger without casting good sense to the wind?
‘Hey, your brother was in a moment ago,’ the aid worker said as Daniel and Shelley walked into the aid tent to ask if there was anything they could do.
Minutes later they found Ammar. He did look at bit like Daniel. Mainly because both were tired, unshaven and dishevelled. Beyond that… well… the similarities ended.
‘It’s people smuggling,’ was Daniel’s first comment when Shelley suggested the plan.
‘It’s an act of humanity,’ she pointed out.
‘It will save my life,’ Ammar said. ‘And if I get to UK I can bring my wife and my children…’
That was enough. In the two hours it took them to hear Ammar’s life story, Daniel became as firmly convinced as Shelley that the risk was worth taking.
‘The only thing that separates me and you,’ he told Ammar, ‘is this.’ He showed Ammar his passport. ‘And it could be you.’ The photograph didn’t lie. It could just as easily be Ammar’s face as Daniel’s on the passport. If you thought about it, Ammar could just as easily have had Daniel’s life if the situation had been different. It was all just an accident of birth.
The plan wasn’t well thought out. It wasn’t within the ‘rules’, but as Shelley pointed out the rulebook was thrown out the window when the Jungle was allowed to come into existence.
So, a poor plan and a lot of determination. What chance of success? You’d not put money on it. But any chance was better than no chance. If they could just help one person… and then they met Susie.
‘Susie was the real legend,’ Daniel told Mike. ‘I think you’d like her.’
‘Did you take her phone number?’ Mike asked.
Daniel shook his head.
‘After all I’ve done for you,’ Mike said.
Daniel didn’t know how to respond.
‘Come on. Get on with the story,’ Mike laughed. ‘I’m kidding you.’
So, the plan all hinged on a passport, a ferry trip and a deal of nerve. It was agreed that Ammar and Shelley would travel back on a ferry from Calais to Dover, on paid tickets with passports. Initially they decided they would buy another ticket for Daniel and it was his job to get on board however he could – failing that he had to find another way home. The flaw in this plan was that obviously at some point someone would ask to see his passport and he wouldn’t have it. But what he did have was sure-fire confirmation that he was a UK citizen, so it shouldn’t be a problem. In theory.
They were still constructing this wobbly plan in one of the jungle cafes, when Susie walked in. She recognised Shelley immediately.
‘Hey, Shell,’ she said. ‘You came to see the show.’
Daniel thought this somewhat inappropriate until he realised that Susie was referring to an actual theatrical performance she was involved in. She was part of a team running drama workshops in the camp.
And she was, it turned out, a master of the art of decoy.
She also explained to a bewildered Daniel that people could work through their psychological problems dramatically.
‘There’s a lot of unemployed actors,’ said Shelley. ‘They don’t all sit at home doing nothing. Some of them have a social conscience. And they have learned the power of drama for social change.’
‘And you’re trained to do that?’ he asked Susie.
‘Well, yes,’ Susie replied.
‘There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy, Mr research chemist,’ Shelley said.
‘Chemist?’ Ammar said. ‘You are a chemist?’
‘Research chemist,’ Daniel replied.
Ammar smiled. ‘Me too,’ he said. ‘In Syria…’
As they debated the ins and outs of their jobs and found they shared more in common than looks, Shelley and Susie worked on the fine detail of the ‘plan’.
Susie didn’t fancy Daniel’s chances of getting back on his own and offered her services to help.
‘I’m an expert in Boalian techniques,’ Susie said. ‘We can make it like Invisible Theatre.’
She was excited. Daniel was just plain scared.
‘Don’t worry,’ Susie said. ‘You’re in the hands of a professional.’
However much she explained to him about Legislative Theatre, Forum Theatre, Invisible Theatre, Daniel still felt like he was in an Absurdist Drama. He said so.
Susie and Shelley laughed.
‘That’s a good one. Life is an Absurdist drama,’ Susie said. ‘Though it’s a pretty dark one at times, isn’t it?’
Daniel didn’t tell them how he felt about drama. Real life was scary enough for him. Fictional representations of real life… that was way beyond his comfort zone. But Susie assured him that all he had to do was follow her lead and it would be okay.
‘And,’ Daniel explained to Mike. ‘She was right. It was pretty easy, really - but I wouldn’t try it again. Or recommend it!’
‘So tell me the plot,’ Mike begged.
Here it is:
Two couples had queued up on the Saturday night for the ferry crossing from Calais to Dover. Three of them had passports. They all had tickets. And smartphones. Shelley and Ammar were the first couple. Somehow, by dint of sleight of hand and slackness on the part of the security (which we’d best not go into because heads might roll, or other people might get ideas – DON’T TRY THIS ONE AT HOME) the passport which saw Ammar through, Daniel’s passport, was somehow spirited back along the queue – an actress called Susie might have had something to do with this – and Susie and Daniel were also waved on to the boat. It wasn’t all that plain sailing actually, because as Daniel’s passport was scanned for a second time, it became clear that it had already been assigned to a ticket number. Susie pulled out all her acting skills and came up with a very plausible – though ridiculous and faintly embarrassing – explanation of why there were two tickets, but managed to assure everyone that there was only one Daniel.
‘I’m still not really sure how we got away with it,’ Daniel said.
‘Somewhere between identity theft and misdirection,’ Mike suggested.
‘Well, not identity theft,’ Daniel replied. ‘I lent him my identity for a couple of hours. It seemed like a fair thing to do. After all, I’ve had this life for nearly thirty years and made bugger all use of it. For a couple of hours my identity had some value.’
But back to the play – which is, after all, the thing!
They all four got onto the boat. Two hours later they all four got off. No one was checking properly at Dover. The three with passports got off the ferry first. Daniel hung back. Susie had a ‘crisis’ where she pointed out that she’d left something on board. Would they let her back on? They wouldn’t. Daniel came chasing after her with the ‘lost’ item and as he passed it to her across the barrier, so she palmed him his passport and all, as they say, was sweet.
‘It’s incredible,’ Mike said. ‘I can’t believe you got away with it.’
‘I know,’ Daniel replied. ‘But I guess it was because it was so implausible. So unlikely. No one expects the unexpected…’
‘Or you just got incredibly lucky,’ Mike said.
‘Yeah, you’re probably right,’ Daniel said. ‘But what’s the worst that could have happened? I’d have told them I dropped my passport over the side, or had it robbed and they’d have let me back in. I just wouldn’t have made it back to work in time for work this morning, but I’d have got back. And if we hadn’t, Ammar would still be stuck in the Jungle. Believe me, that’s not a place you want to spend a weekend, never mind a month. Which is how long he’s been there. It’s all so unfair. He’s just a guy. Just like me…’
‘Just like you?’ Mike asked. ‘Poor bloke!’
‘Well not just like me,’ Daniel replied. ‘But pretty much. He was even a research chemist in Syria…’
Mike shook his head. Only Daniel could go into the heart of the Jungle and come back with a guy like himself.
‘Of all the bars in all the world…’ Mike said.
‘What?’ Daniel didn’t get it.
‘I’m proud of you, bro,’ Mike said. ‘But it doesn’t solve the bigger problem.’
‘No,’ Daniel admitted. ‘But Shelley’s working on that.’
‘Meantime, Ammar’s in Croydon.’ Mike grimaced. ‘He’ll be wondering why he bothered…’
* * *
As Mike so reasonably observed, there was a much bigger problem. What they had done as a one-off wasn’t a template that could be adopted by everyone, but as Shelley said, it was time to start thinking outside of the box. It was time for individuals to take things into their own hands. Individuals who weren’t people smugglers. Or if they were people smuggling, to be doing it for the right reasons, not for profit. And that was how Creative Solutions was born.
* * *
It’s time to take stock of where we are in our story. A couple of weeks after they returned from the Jungle, the tropical plants were removed from Daniel’s house – distributed among local care homes. People take precedence over plants, right? Shelley’s boss Mr Zhi was still in residence at her flat – keeping under the radar – but getting in to work a few days a week. Ammar had presented himself at the Border Agency at Croydon. His application was refused, but he had the right to remain in the UK until an appeal – a process which would take months. So he made his way up to Salford. He moved in with Daniel and Shelley. Mike crowdsourced funds for a lawyer for him. But Shelley had a more ‘creative’ solution.
It was all to do with identity. And just ‘while he’s waiting’. It was so audacious that Mike took to it straight away. It was a system bending piece of behaviour that totally appealed to him. It was dangerous of course but everything to do with refugee action is dangerous. There is no obvious or easy solution and staying within the law is a practical impossibility. So despite reservations they all agreed that the risk was worth taking. Good motivation was all that was required. And an acceptance that there might be consequences to be faced.
‘But nothing as bad as the Jungle,’ Daniel said.
‘Nothing as bad as Syria today,’ Ammar said.
That put it back in perspective. The Jungle was about the worst thing Daniel could imagine. Ammar had seen much worse. His family were still experiencing much worse. But putting this plan into action potentially jeopardised his family.
‘I take that risk,’ Ammar said. ‘I have no choice.’
‘We don’t want to make you take unnecessary risks,’ Daniel said.
Mike was more gung ho. He was the mastermind behind the new plan. He had met Ammar and liked him. He wanted to do what he could. For social justice and to buck a stupid system. He was recruited into Creative Solutions big-time. And he could see potential way beyond what Daniel could even imagine. We all need friends, right?
‘No one will ever pick it up,’ Mike said. ‘The system is just too dumb to figure such things out.’
Daniel wasn’t so sure.
‘And you get a summer holiday out of it too,’ Mike told Daniel. ‘Maybe, like, a honeymoon?’
That was a bit far-fetched even for Daniel to imagine. But with Creative Solutions, anything was possible. But that’s how, one Monday morning in July, Daniel and Shelley took off to Lesvos in a rented camper van (crowdsourced by Mike and Susie) and Ammar sat down at a desk beside Mike to start work.
‘I can’t believe this is the best identity you can borrow,’ Mike said to him, ‘but welcome aboard.’
Mike was more than up to the task of explaining to the rest of the staff that Daniel had been given leave of absence for a month and that his replacement was an agency worker. That satisfied those ‘on the ground’. For the purposes of taxation, Daniel’s NI number was working overtime and his pay cheque was still coming in to pay the bills. It was a sort of quantum identity which a creaking, antiquated system would never catch up with. Or that was the plan. Monolithic bureaucracy has its benefits, you see. Who knew? And as you might have already guessed, Mike did get Susie’s phone number. But that’s another story.
About the Author
Annie Christie is a pretty ordinary person, except that she was born Annie Christie and then married a man called Christie and so is still called Christie despite having taken on her husband’s name. She sometimes wonders if she should have called herself Christie-Christie: but who would believe that?
Born near Drum of Wartle in Aberdeenshire, Annie moved as swiftly as possible to a place with a less bizarre name – Edinburgh – but the bizarreness chased her and she now lives with her husband Rab in rural Galloway, with a Kirkcudbrightshire postcode. (That's Cur coo bree shire to the uninitiated.) She is an active member of the Infinite Jigsaw Project.
That Long Hot Summer is Annie's third McSerial written for McStorytellers.
Born near Drum of Wartle in Aberdeenshire, Annie moved as swiftly as possible to a place with a less bizarre name – Edinburgh – but the bizarreness chased her and she now lives with her husband Rab in rural Galloway, with a Kirkcudbrightshire postcode. (That's Cur coo bree shire to the uninitiated.) She is an active member of the Infinite Jigsaw Project.
That Long Hot Summer is Annie's third McSerial written for McStorytellers.