John Needham
I was born in Rutland, the smallest (it's tiny) county in England. The first part of my childhood was spent idyllically (or so it seems in retrospect) in a village of limestone cottages; the second in the nearby Georgian town of Stamford. I began working life as a compositor, where I first became addicted to printer's ink, before going to art college and training for a graphic designer and occasional copywriter.
Later I discovered another addiction: renovating old houses (and it won't escape your notice that my novel Convergence is semi-autobiographical) and followed that noble calling for twenty years. The final chapter of my working life was spent landscape gardening.
Now blissfully retired in a village in Wales, I read a lot, write a lot and walk the gorgeous Welsh countryside with my doggy Best Friend Sali.
“He extricated himself from her encircling arm and she moaned a little and curled away from him. He moved close again, foetally fitting himself to her shape, wrapping his arm around her waist. She awoke briefly and clasped his hand tightly to her belly, and murmured sleepily, 'I do love you Martin.' Choked, he buried his face in the smooth nape of her neck, and summoned the courage to tell her what he hadn't dared say; that he loved her too, more than he could ever have imagined possible.”