This play, first staged at the Leicester Haymarket Theatre, is based on a tenth-century Jain myth about a king who finds his queen involved with an elephant-keeper.

    When the cremation rites are complete, Ronojoy is handed a letter from his mother that is not so much a farewell as a confession. As before, it is left to him to decide whether to share the disturbing contents with his brother, whom he has always sought to protect.Thus, begins another tumultuous cycle in the lives of the two brothers who already carry deep scars from their childhood; their fragile minds ever at risk of succumbing to the dark.Written in spare, stark prose, Dark Circles deftly weaves past and present, offering tantalizing glimpses of bottled truths buried deep in the recesses of repressed memory; brilliantly exposing the dark undercurrents that swirl under the seemingly placid lives of families.

    When you think about the kind of guy you are going to marry, a Romany living in an old caravan does not normally come to mind! Can't think why, can you?! So, there I was. 19 years old and fed up with 'normal' guys who only wanted one thing. Yep you guessed it! But then.... along comes this guy, tall, skinny, bad hair, ugly/handsome..... did I say bad hair? Oh yes! And that was just the beginning! But little did I know that he was a gypsy! Oh boy! Gypsies and gorgi's don't mix.....do they? I was about to find out! Honest, raw, colourful, and downright hilarious! Based on the true story of Nell Rose Loveridge and Jake her gypsy rover!

    Life was no bed of roses. The Bernardinis stayed in a room and kitchen, where young Walter slept in the bed recess in the front room. His Mum and Dad, meanwhile, had a 'hole-in-the-wall' bed in the kitchen. There was no bath, only one downstairs toilet shared by two other families. Glaswegians in those days may not have had much money, but they made up for the lack of material possessions with a real live of life. There was never a dull moment, at home, on the streets or at school. In this compelling book, the author fondly reminisces about first footing, wedding scrambles, winchin' in the close, nights at the pictures, the trams, trips with the Scouts, wartime evacuation and much more. It is a scintillating slice of social history, full of warmth and humour. For the sake of his career, Walter Bernardini eventually left Scotland, taking his wife and family with him. Yet he has never forgotten the city of his birth, the place that shaped him, the place he still thinks of as home. These were truly his dear old Glasgow years'.

    

    

    Detective by night. Dr. Shiva Durai, a senior forensic resident, is tasked for the autopsy of Diya Peshawar, a teenage girl. Gang-raped and mutilated, her body is left for the police to bag. It's Shiva's responsibility to ensure the delivery of justice. The stakes are raised with a serial killer on loose. Clues point towards a dark corner of the city. Evidence reveals the existence of a well-organized criminal empire. They feast on people’s fear. They are the law. There is no justice. Being the Police Surgeon in-charge, he decides to pursue injustice like a primal beast. With the Police facing roadblocks in the investigation, Shiva decides to take the matter into his hands. And on his way he faces one of the biggest threats of all time. Shiva’s war against injustice has just begun. And he won’t give up until he has won. In a city ruled by crime, can one man’s quest for justice make a difference? Facts say no. But Dr. Shiva begs to differ. Pick a copy now and find out how!

    Lots of laughs and tears are part of the job. Combat, test flying and, as the title implies, high risk. A Silver Star recipient, much of my OV-10 combat time was in Laos. Started with the F-100 in Europe and finished my career as test director to make the F-100 a target.

    Chris tells the remarkable story of the magazine, from the tatty rag produced in his Newcastle bedroom to becoming one of the bestselling magazines in the UK.Chris was the creator of many of the characters and was responsible for all the magazine’s written content. Characters from the magazine, such as Sid the Sexist and the Fat Slags, are now household names.This is an engaging tale told in Chris’s unique, wry way. Chris takes us from his train-spotting childhood in the ’70s through to setting up the magazine with family and friends, and struggling to sell even a few copies of Viz in the local pub. The comic’s success swiftly grew, however, and remarkable events ensued, such as how Chris was invited to tea by Prince Charles, taken in for questioning by New Scotland Yard's Anti-Terrorist Branch and caught his wife up to no good with Keith Richards in Peter Cook's attic.Chris includes many original drawings in this integrated book as well as some fascinating images of early Viz creations.

    The impossible task of knowing God's mind...

    The home was unkempt and rubbish was littered all over the floor. Dirty nappies were piled up in a corner of the room, which made the room have an awful stench. None of Jacksons bottles were being sterilised before use, and the water that was to make up the formula was tap water….straight from the tap and unboiled."

    These memoirs take him from enjoying the odd cold beer sailing peacefully across the Indian Ocean to being trapped in a war zone. Here he sees life at sea changing from the leisurely days of general cargoes to the hectic computerised containerships. He seems to have done it all – rescuing drug runners from the ice, dredging aggregates in the North Sea and finally skippering a ‘steamer’ on a tranquil lake. This volume is the second of Bob’s memoirs covering his service as master on a wide variety of ships. The first book ‘I think I’ll go to sea’ relates to his experiences climbing up through the ranks. In this book he has to flee the USA to avoid arrest for drug smuggling, assists rescuing a ship’s crew when their ship sinks in pack ice and gets stuck in the middle of the Iraq/Iran war. He also experiences alcohol free ships which take away the pleasure of his ‘cold beer’

    And it is every mother’s worst nightmare.Ex-Casualty actress, Rebekah was just 34 years old and 7 months pregnant when she found a lump in her breast. After twice being examined by doctors and having been told that it was nothing to worry about, Rebekah pushed it from her mind and concentrated on the birth of her beautiful daughter, Gigi. But one night, whilst nursing her baby, Rebekah realised she could still feel the lump. And it was bigger.Finally, her worst fears were confirmed: just 10 weeks after giving birth, Rebekah was told that she had a fast-growing grade-three cancer and it had spread to her lymph glands. It was the beginning of a journey to hell and back and Rebekah embarked on the fight of her life.This isn’t just a book about the horror of cancer.It is about facing illness with humour and courageIt’s a celebration of the special, unbreakable bond between mothers and daughters. It’s about survival.

    Financially we were afloat and we lived in a perfectly decent house until my wife came up with the zany idea of living on a boat. I'd just got home from work, via the pub, when Jan asked me to watch a video while she prepared our frugal meal. I watched a pair of old fogies trundling along a canal in the rain on a narrowboat. You can imagine my reply when she asked if I fancied emulating the sodden wrinklies and taking to the water. She's a lady of vision and determination (she married me after all) but this was elevating madness to a whole new level. Jan's oncologist had her a few years previously that she probably wouldn't see the new millennium, so she had a different perspective about the future than many people. Despite lots of huffing and head-shaking, twelve months later we had sold a perfectly respectable house, given up a job that kept us in cornflakes and moved onto a metal hole less than a tenth the size of our house – excluding garden. It was the 4th July 2003 – independence day.We knew nothing about narrowboats – their workings, waterways lore and how we would cope being cooped up together – particularly when it's minus five and the nearest shop is miles away. We had a mountain to climb – which you can only do by using locks, and we'd never done a lock. A more accurate analogy is shooting the rapids because our venture took on a life of it's own and we were washed down stream on a tide of enthusiasm and ignorance. We had to make it work or the people who had laughed and scoffed would be proved right – we really were mad. Well, make it work we did, and we're still boating twelve years on. It's marvellous and it possibly saved Jan's life.