BY ANY STRETCH OF THE imagination, writing a book is a major undertaking. It doesn’t matter whether it is a historical fiction novel (my usual genre) or a semi-biographical account like Sunshine on my mind , no author can do everything on their own, therefore the support I have received in recent months has been very uplifting, humbling and valuable.
Close to home, there are several people to whom I would like to extend my deepest thanks. Keith Potter is my longtime tennis partner who I regularly put the world to rights with, often at the expense of a set, or two, on the courts of our local tennis club. One of the reasons our game is sacrificed is because of the amount of help Keith gives, and the encouragement he offers to my writing as a sense-checker and proofreader. Throughout this project, he has been hugely supportive and has gently urged me on when I have had the occasional period of writer’s bloc. Thank you for everything, Keith. Your help has meant a lot. Catherine Pincott-Allen , herself an accomplished historical author, is also someone I am indebted to. I have got to know Catherine (and her husband, Richard) through the stories I write about a historical figure called Francis Hacker. Francis was one of the regicides of King Charles the First. Like me, Catherine has an interest in the life of Francis, and she has recently written her own historical account of his life. As well as writing under her own name, some of Catherine’s work can also be found under the pseudonym ‘Emmaline Severn’. When she hasn’t been undertaking research and writing, Catherine has been casting an eye over Sunshine on my mind – helping me keep on the main road, and not get sucked into the creative cul-de-sacs that are the curse of all writers. Thank you, Catherine. Your help and encouragement have been extremely important.
Robert Longbone-Lawrence , a relative on my late mother’s side, has been another invaluable source of information when it comes to the dates of births and deaths for all of my family members mentioned in the book. Robert is a dedicated family historian and has not only pieced together an extensive history of the Longbone family, going back hundreds of years but is now also actively involved in helping other families actively connect with long-lost relatives. He is an inspiring man. My cousin, Paul Campbell , son of my Auntie Maureen and Uncle Archie, also cast a critical eye over the manuscript before it was published. His contributions and observations are greatly welcomed and appreciated. Thank you, Paul.
Away from friends and family, a group of people I don’t know – but who have earned my unwavering gratitude – have also come to the fore. Kazia Jewitt , daughter of Joe and Zofia Podbiereski, willingly provided me with important background information about her late parents, which gave some depth to two of the chapters in this book. What inspiring and caring people they were. David Elliott has also been extremely helpful. David is the son of George and Nora, the friendly and charming owners of Elliott’s newsagents on Inglemire Lane – the would-be victims of my great lemonade bottle swindle. How privileged I am to be able to include some of their story in this book.
And I would also like to thank Joanne Brooke, Margaret Fox, Alison Goode, Nick Heaford, Louise Overfield and Liz Thompson, members of a Facebook group called Cottingham: The Good Old Days , who have acted as ‘critical friends’, checking the accuracy of my geographical claims, timeline, and the general credibility of the tales I have retold. Between them, several important observations were made that have improved the overall reading experience.
I have changed the names of a handful of people who feature in this story. I have done so because mention of my name after so many years may still not conjure the most positive of thoughts – and to avoid embarrassing an individual or individuals.
Of course, errors may still remain. If this is the case, then please accept my unreserved apologies. As always, only one person is ultimately to blame for anything that is erroneous: me.