Apr 2026 – Charlierobinsonbooks

Where It All Began 8

Almeria

Almeria was basic in 1976, and life was very different for an eighteen year-old in the 70s. I’d been working for three years, and had five jobs which didn’t work out for various reasons. Apprentice Engineer, mechanic, and electrician. I also worked at Morrisons Supermarket and finally at Sherbourne Pouffes in production line upholstery. Now here I was travelling around Spain, home was a camper van and work was spearfishing. Mudguts and I had been told by our two older companions, mentors if you like, to behave. “The Guardia Civil will not mess about, and you could both end up in big trouble!” I pointed out that if trouble came our way? I would simply ask to see the British Consulate. To be honest we were our own worst enemies with a love of local girls, wine, brandy, and mischief. Factor in the landscape and the invasion of Hollywood, years before who made Westerns, such as The Good, Bad, and Ugly only fuelled our rebellious attitude.

Everything was going well, Almeria was Peter’s favourite Spanish town and the fishing was okay. Although we’d had our money taken from us and been put on a meagre allowance, Mudguts and I devised many ways to entertain ourselves. We did moderate our adventures to some degree. But you know what they say? Nothing lasts forever😂

One day, due to a huge sea swell, there was going to be no fishing. Mudguts and I were sent food shopping and given the necessary funds. Here lieth the problem, we had to pass a bar which we had frequented on several occasions. The bar was full of local fishermen, now where was the harm with one beer on a hot day? In those days a game called Spoof was very popular, we were extremely good at it, and had played the fishermen a few times. For us it was a drinking game, the last man standing bought a round of drinks, and we saw a chance of free alchohol. As I say we were good at it. Late morning turned into late afternoon and we remembered the shopping. We said goodbye to our amigos and “kinda walked” from the bar😂.

We should have gone shopping and returned to the vans. Except we had an idea, I have no recollection of where it came from, but we decided it would be good fun to stop the traffic. I lay down on one side of the road and Mudguts on the other. (Go figure!) and pretended to be asleep. There followed a few minutes of car horns, a lot of shouting, and I guess swearing before we suddenly pretended to wake up and walk away, straight into a couple of Guardia Civil officers. They held us by the arms and chatted to some locals who pointed in the direction of where the vans were parked.

Fifteen minutes later, Mudguts and I were held before our older companions, detained, disheveled, and disgraced. Luckily the police said, if we left town by sunset there would be no further action. I allowed myself a grin as I remembered the Spaghetti Westerns which had been filmed here.

I don’t have much recollection of the rest of the day. I do know Peter and Mudgut’s brother John were not impressed by our escapade and it was decided that we would now head for Cadiz. We were, at last, going to Gran Canaria for the rest of the winter. John and Muduts decided to join us, so we headed for the ferry. I wondered what adventures awaited us in Mogan, Gran Canaria?

Happy Trails, Folks x

Ana’s New Book

Uncovered and Into the Wild

Social Media Man

TikTok Update and Other Stuff!

If you remember a few weeks ago I joined TikTok? I appear to attract a few other TikTockers (if that’s what they are called) I’m not sure if they are people or robots though. Some of them are people, I know this because they want to sell me services (out of the gutter, please!😂) Formatting, editing, SEO something or other, you know what I mean. I started by explaining I wasn’t looking for those things, but they persist, so now I just ignore. The Bots are easily identified. “Hi, how are you today?” or “Where are you from?” “What’s your book called?” I find it strange because all that information is in my 30-40 second videos. I guess a Bot can’t watch videos. I mean, really, when was the last time you met an old Phillpino or Russian bloke with a Yorkshire accent?

I decided to put the same 40 second videos on You Tube. In the first two weeks my three shorts (they’re YT lingo for short videos, See! I’m getting down with the kids already 😂) I’ve had 3,700 views, 10 hours watching time, 10 subscribers and my last one got 23 likes and 17 comments. BUT, more importantly three book sales. No one asked me a thing, or tried to sell me something. So, I’m happy with You Tube at present.

Out of all the social media Apps I’ve tried this has been the most enjoyable one. Instagram is okay once you get rid of the sex workers. I remember a girl started following me and messaged. “Have you been in my Cam Room?” I replied with. “Why did I leave my socks behind?😂” I never heard from her again.

Aww, bless em, I guess everyone has to earn a living.

Happy Trails, Folks.

Where It All Began 7

Javea

1976, Spain was a totally different Spain to what it is now. Franco had died one year earlier and much of his legacy remained. After the grapepicking we arrived in Javea, and the first thing we were told by the Guardia Civil was, “No es posible acampar aquí.” It was a phrase we heard often. Basically, no camping. Peter’s reply was always the same. “Pesca submarina.” For some reason spearfishermen had special rights, and we were left alone, although we were informed they would check on us throughout the night, which apparently was thirsty work. So, each evening we left a half bottle of wine and two glasses on the rear bumper step.

For a couple of weeks Javea was fun, there was a lot of diving, drinking and a few girls. Mudguts and I reverted to our feral nature, and I have to admit, looking back we were probably out of control. One particular night we had a disagreement with some American backpackers from the campsite. As I remember it, we were (entertaining?) two girls in the rear yard of a bar who, it turned out, were partners of two Alpha Male backpackers. It didn’t end well, we were outnumbered and felt some justice should prevail. Their campsite was at the bottom of a small cliff, so in the early hours, after gathering some ammunition, (stones and rocks). As Maximus the Gladiator said 😂

We only aimed for the tents, but to see so many people running around in the dark, half naked was a joy, until they discovered where the mystery stones were being hailed from, and so they began to climb. We escaped into the night and laughed all the way home. It was short lived! The Gaurdia arrived the following morning and after a long conversation with my mentor, Peter, and Mudgut’s older brother John they left. This, apparently, was the last straw (to be honest, as I said we had been a little naughty before) They took our money from us, explaining we were now to be given a small allowance, enough for maybe a beer. But we knew where we could buy bottles of wine for about 40 pesatas (30p) And the barmen were willing to swop beers for lightbulbs. Yeah, I know it was kinda inventive, but we became quite adapt at appropriating light bulbs from many sources.😂

Eventually we had to consider moving on, the fishing was still not good. But then our fortunes changed once more. We met Laurie and Ronnie, ex merchant seamen who owned a bar in the town, The Cave Bar. After a few beers they asked if we would convert their stockroom into a small eating area. Peter was an electrician and John the Aussie was a builder, whereas Mudguts and I were… well, we were just 18 years old 😂 In return they offered us a flat to stay in, they would feed us, and give us some spending money. So, we set to work.

There was a lot of chicken wire and paper mache used, that’s not the original photo, but its close enough. At least it kept us out of trouble, for now. When the work was done we set off once more. Next Stop, Almeria.

Happy Trails, Folks x

Blog Tour

Esther Chilton – Myths and Magic

Today I am delighted to feature Esther Moonstomp (Chilton) on her blog tour. Myths and Magic is Esther’s second book in her children’s series Saffy’s Secret Quest. So, without further ado, I’ll hand you over to Esther.

Charlie has very kindly allowed me to take over his blog for a short while as part of the blog tour for my second children’s book, Myths and Magic. A huge thank you to Charlie for his support. I really appreciate it.

So here I am on stop two of my tour, with book two. The Secret Dragon was the first in the Saffy’s Secret Quest Series and was released last year. The second book is due out on the 28^th May but the paperback is available now to pre-order. The series is for 5-7 year olds, so it’s ideal for parents to read to children or for those that have just started to read on their own. It’ll make a great gift for any young children you know!

The Blurb:

Saffy has solved the first clue in her quest to save the magical world of Mandoreum from danger. Now it’s time to find the second. 

She isn’t alone. Her new friend, Lily, a dragon from Mandoreum, wants to help. Together they take a trip and uncover special stories and unexpected surprises.

But Saffy soon learns that first appearances are not always what they seem. And plotting in the background is a witch who will do everything she can to stop them…

Extract:

Saffy looked around. She had been to the museum so many times she had forgotten how exciting it was. Colourful posters hung on the walls and interactive screens flickered as they changed image. A brightly lit café was over at the far corner and there was a gift shop bursting with toys, pens, notepads and all sorts the other side.

“I wish I was playing football with my friends,” Harry said huffily. “Museums are boring.”

“It’s far too wet to play football. And you know how much you enjoyed it here last time. If you’re a good boy, perhaps you can have an ice-cream a bit later,” Mum said.

“It’s raining. I don’t want an ice-cream when it’s raining,” Harry grumbled.

“I’ll save my money, then.” Mum took a protesting Harry by the hand and walked over to the first display.

“Harry is being even more annoying than usual,” Saffy whispered to Lily. “We’ll let them go on ahead and follow.”

A few moments later, Saffy stopped by a collection of spears and ancient tools. “Look at these, Lily.” She smiled as her friend peeped out over the top of her pocket. “They’re hundreds and hundreds of years old.”

“What’s that over there?” Lily pointed to a little mud hut.

Before Saffy knew it, the dragon had clambered out of her pocket and slid down to the floor.

“Where are you going? Stop!” Saffy called after her.

She noticed a group of children walking towards them. Uh oh!

Author bio:

Esther has been a freelance writer for over twenty-five years, regularly writing articles and short stories for magazines and newspapers such as Writers’ Forum, Writing Magazine, The Guardian, Best of British, The Cat, This England, Yours and The People’s Friend.

Winner of several competitions, including those run by Writing Magazine and The Global Short Story Contest, she has also had the privilege of judging writing competitions and relished being given the role of head judge of the Writers’ Forum monthly short story competition.

Esther loves writing but equally enjoys helping others, which she achieves in her role as a tutor for The Writers Bureau. Always on the lookout for a new challenge, she is taking the distance learning college over at the end of July.

She has had two how-to books on writing published, with a third due out later this year, as well as two collections of short stories. Her second children’s book is coming out in May, where she writes under the name of Esther Moonstomp.

Blogs: https://estherchilton.co.uk

https://esthermoonstomp.co.uk

Buying links:

UK: Paperback: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Myths-Magic-Saffys-Secret-Quest/dp/1806342103

Ebook: details to be released soon.

US: details to be released soon.

Can You Do It?

Apparently I Can

Boston, that’s Lincolnshire, England, not USA. Its a market town, I know this because on Saturday the sat nav wanted me to drive through the Saturday Market. It became upset when I didn’t, so had to be switched off. I was in Boston for my first marathon of the year. It was going to be tricky as I’d missed nearly 8 weeks of training because of that broken rib, but the flattest marathon in the country? It’d be fine. Boston is quite nice, and the parking is cheap. We lodged at No 20 Hotel and Bar. It was a four minute walk to the start of the race. They didn’t do breakfast which was fine as I was leaving at 7am anyway. There’s a lovely church down by the river.

There is also a Mexican restaurant, if you’re a runner you’ll know how important carb loading is before a race, so I had no choice 😂

Sunday morning I found myself in the Market Place (the market had gone) 90s House Music blared out from some speakers, a man on a michrophone was sayin stuff (I think they were words of encouragement) Was I the only one shivering under three layers? It was windy! Gillian had her route map for photos, I found some friends, had a photo with one, wished each other good luck and waited until 8am for the start.

Boston Marathon — Trust me the sky is decieving

Boston UK Marathon — Trust me the sky is decieving

The flattest marathon in the country sounds great, but then there is a reason… the terrain is flat with no shelter. 😂

The first 10 miles were okay, averaging 5 min kilometers and looking at an overall time of 03:40:00, but it dawned on me, I had for the most time, a tail wind. By 11 miles the route had turned. 30mph head wind with gusts to 40mph, but I was still smiling when I saw Gillian and her trusty camera at a water station.

Around 13 miles the sciatica started playing up and the hips began to grumble, pace had dropped to 6-7 mins per kilometer, everyone was swearing at the wind 😂 I decided it wasn’t worth it, and the next time I saw her, I’d go home. The problem was I didn’t see her until 18 miles. Now, when you’ve run 18 miles in that wind and only have 8 miles left… well, you may as well carry on?

By 20 miles the rib decided it wanted to play too, I thought I’d broken it again😂 It was then I made some life changing decisions. I was going to sell all my races. Windemere Marathon, Hardwolds 47mile ultra, and 50k ultra, Jersey Marathon… yup, that’s me from now on, just your average fun runner. Spend the rest of my days, relaxing and not dragging Gillian round the country, carrying my gear and taking pictures.

I didn’t get the time I wanted it ended up at 04:17:00, I was in pain and a tad disappointed, but apparently there were 32 people who didn’t finish, I did finish at least.

Boston UK Marathon finish. — Smile or grimace?

But now I’ve slept, I’m warm, and I’m thinking. If I improve the hip therapy, reintroduce the sciatica exercises, get some good quality trail runs in, with lots of hills, Windemere Marathon is eight weeks away. I could probably do it 😂

Happy Trails, Folks x

Where It All Began 6

What To Do When There’s No Fish?

We were having a great time in Portbou, but we were spending money with no income. Too early for the fishing season, we needed a plan. As luck would have it our new friends, Jamie and Josephine were heading for Perpignan to apply for work on Le Vendange (grape picking season).

This sounded like a good idea. Three days later Peter, myself, two Aussies, three Welshmen, Jamie and Josephine found ourselves at the counter of a French Employment Office. The girl behind the desk had work in a village called La Tour, for eleven people. Quandary! There were only nine of us. Remember?… Mudguts and I were only eighteen, so we had already spotted the two attractive girls in the corner. Two hours later all eleven of us were seated around an old oak table in an equally old farm kitchen chatting to to the vineyard owner. Well, Josephine was chatting, we were nodding. The farmer must have been impressed, as he took us to a house in the village, told us we could stay there during our employment, and produced a wicker clad bottle, a demijohn, it must have held 5 gallons. He said when we had finished it we could bring it to the farmhouse and he’d fill it. I was happy already!

He did a lot of back slapping, used the word “Bon” a lot and appeared very, very happy. It was sometime later that Josephine discovered from his wife that he had a bad back and took pain killers. The Dr had instructed him not to drink alcohol. His wife said, with a shrug and a wink, he was French and a vineyard owner. Mudguts, who was quite an expert on narcotics (one reason he left Australia) said it was equivalent to taking ‘speed.‘ Three days later we were woken at 5am, taken on a tractor to a field, and instructed how to pick grapes. Interestingly we were joined by a band of gypsies, and told they were fast. Ah, competition time.😊

A porter working during the grapepicking season, France 1976

I’m not sure how I survived the next twenty days. We worked from 6am until 1pm and then 3pm until 6pm. This was the heatwave of 1976 and it was hot! But, we successfully picked more grapes than our Romany friends, and secured extra work for the Mayor of the village.

The nights were riotous, and we rarely hit the sack before midnight, often later. I recall a night when one of the Welsh chaps crashed early, a little worse for wear, and we manged to manoeuvre his bed down two flights of stairs and into the street. 😂 The following morning, as we gazed from the window, it was amusing to see the villagers starting their day. They sauntered by a bed in the street, with a snoring youth snuggled down, whilst chuntering to themselves. But all good things come to an end. In total we completed a 20 day stint at 10 francs per day, so with our purses refilled, we bid a fond farewell to our employer, and most of our friends.

Jamie and Josephine headed for God knows where, the Welshmen set off for Germany, while Peter, myself, two Aussies and the girls we found in Perpignan decided on Javea. Hopefully the fish had arrived.

Happy Trails, Folks x