I am never going to run out of reading matter, even venturing into tomes that I do not remember cramming onto the bookshelf.Ĭasting around for my next ‘escape from reality’ a few days ago, I came across a small, unconsidered paperback, author Leigh Nichols (who? never heard of him) and thought ‘I’ll read this and then discard it – making room for another book…’Īpparently Leigh Nichols wrote ‘The Eyes of Darkness’ in 1981, later to transmogrify himself into Dean Koontz when he really hit his stride.

There are only so many weeds one can halt mid-career and, after concentrated application, I have to concede that the ‘Alice in Wonderland’ needlepoint cushion will not be completed in time for the grand-daughter’s birthday (although it will be in time for a good start to Christmas present buying).īut more and more I have turned to my love of reading. There is always much to do, but the joy of plaiting cobwebs and re-arranging dust disappeared weeks ago. Our small village has closed ranks, with community spirit (‘We’re all in the same boat, all for one and one for all’), youngest son has cheerfully and regularly delivered food parcels, gardens have never looked better and even the weather has been kind (well mostly).

Well – who could have known, mid-March 2020, what was immediately in front of us all? Weeks of lockdown, shielding, self-isolation and all the following implications?Ĭertainly not me as the awfulness gradually became apparent, until some three months later one asks, how can this all end happily?

The eyes of darkness leigh nichols