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Michael Gillen
I was born within a stone's throw of Trafford Park, Manchester, at the time when dear old Adolph thought that he could bomb his way into Manchester United's first team. The over enthusiastic pilot ...view moreI was born within a stone's throw of Trafford Park, Manchester, at the time when dear old Adolph thought that he could bomb his way into Manchester United's first team. The over enthusiastic pilot of the Stuka, on the navigator's directions, blew up the wrong football ground. The A to Z that the navigator was using highlighted the ground as "Old Trafford" and his English wasn't that good. His orders said "Trafford Park" and then "Maine Rd."
Adolph gave up on Manchester when he discovered he could only play at Manchester City's ground. The pilot responsible was drafted to the Eastern Front, failing to convince the Fuehrer that it was the navigator's fault.
I was exported home to Ireland out of harm's way before Adolph could do any more harm. I spent an idyllic childhood on a small island just off the west coast of Sligo. A very small island, no running water, electricity, Gameboy or Facebook; not even broadband. Life was good since I wouldn't have got the hang of any of that stuff anyway. I still haven't.
Having returned to England I wasted my life at school, only learning stuff that enabled me to gain an apprenticeship in engineering. I subsequently managed to earn a crust as an engineer in the chemical industry helping to create the wonderful environment that we are now blessed with. Later I managed to join the entrepreneurial fraternity by setting up a variety of businesses. There was a modicum of success followed by a modicum of failure, mainly other peoples fault - I swear.
During a spell of inactivity, some refer to it as retirement, I decided that the fun I had had throughout my life could be used to create some stories for those who like a bit of a laugh in their books. I needed to get it done before I forgot the gist of my recollections.
The Doris actually existed, not as Doris but she existed, and she was carted over to Benidorm on the back of a lorry. The rest was made up and, although the characters were loosely based on real people, their activities and their personalities were a figment of my imagination.
I am currently busy doing another character assassination of the golfing fraternity, using my pals as templates for the cast in a murder mystery. Always watching out for solicitor's writs from some of the more litigious club members should they have the brains to spot themselves.
By the way, just like the characters in the books, my real name is not Gillen. The real Michael likes to keep his head down. You should also treat the photo with a modicum of suspicion.view less