Recent events around our wonderful world have shown that although times change, methods do not. As each revolution comes around in turn; normally by way of a repressed, unemployed and deprived population saying enough is enough, with a little help from sympathetic intelligence services, the methods to suppress remain the same. Killing the internet is no different to destroying printing presses or burning books. Killing mobile phone services is no different to mass arrests. Killing freedoms to protest peacefully are the tools of desperate dictatorships. Elected or not. Killing the means to communicate are always the first signs of a rotting regime. Killing journalists is the act of an acute
It seems to have taken forever, but the day has finally arrived. The alliterated date that was the seed that provided the inspiration I needed to start a whole new book. It is so long ago now, I cannot recall writing the first chapter. Finally though, after months of fighting with a work in progress manuscript that played with my head and heart, and then what felt like even longer in editing, proofreading and applying those tiny last minute words that make all the difference, the time has come. Time to say goodbye to this odd friend that has been living in my head for nearly two years. Time to
With the release of his new book, February The Fifth, our reporter Said Orquardly tracked down Derek Haines for this exclusive interview. SO. How did you come to discover this hidden planet called Gloth? DH. It was strange really. I was actually looking at images of Jupiter in Google images. I found one I liked, but there was a big red blotch on it. So I popped it into my clever photo software to clean it up. But when I erased the red blotch, I noticed there was something behind it. SO. Gloth? DH. Yes. After a little more Jupiter erasing, there it was. The hidden planet of Gloth. SO.
So it is clear that I have to make a sad admission. I can’t be a real writer at all as I chose to have a dog as a pet. Ignoring all the best advice and forgetting the history of association with cats and writers, I went headlong into my pet project and Yalla the exuberant cocker spaniel puppy entered my life last summer. Now there was of course the initial ‘honeymoon’ period in our relationship and an ‘all is forgiven’ period that followed as little Yalla was clearly trying his very best to fit in with my quiet and concentrated writer lifestyle. I even happily pleaded forgiveness for him