Before I begin reading my next book and get lazy, let me write about this one. What a ride. It felt like four cases packed into one book.  

Scene is set in Glasgow in the early 70’s with police officer Harry McCoy. Clearly no cop is immaculate in this book, all bent in some way. But Harry McCoy tries to walk the straight and narrow. 

The book begins with a missing girl then mixes with a case of a dead rock star Bobby March and then throws in an arse of a senior officer who is McCoy’s boss. 

Well author Alan Parks doesn’t finish his cases off in a nice bow, as usual writers do. He leaves some ends of the cases for you to use your intelligence. But still deeply satisfying. 

Aside from the fact that I was deeply offended by his description of thirty year olds, I found myself wanting to ditch work, go to a cafe, order an overpriced coffee and read. However, I covered most of this book in the exciting Mumbai local trains because such is life. Parks keeps describing McCoy as old, muscles aching, too old to be in jeans, too old to be walking in the heat and so automatically my mind painted a picture of a late fifty something policeman. No offence to fifty year olds. But come page 41 and we discover McCoy is thirty! As a thirty-two year old I am offended. Infact, I immediately texted my best friend to convey the offence. 

Honestly I’m not sure what thirty is meant to feel like but it’s been pretty brilliant for me, physically. I’m more flexible than when I was in my twenties and I lift more than a decade ago, which used to be zero. I feel like myself, 2.0 version. Ofcourse my body changed in the first year and I couldn’t understand. I was breaking out which I never did and I was putting on weight differently. I was angry. I wallowed for a bit and then I decided to get strong. Weight training has been life changing, along with magnesium glycinate at night. And doing exactly what my dermatologist told me to do. Discipline is something I take with me through the decades. 

If I have some beef with this writer, it’s only because I think he needs a better description of thirty year olds. Otherwise no complaints. Infact, I’ve managed to develop a little crush on Harry McCoy too. 

As a Derry Girls fan, understanding the Scottish English, their lingo and cuss words was a pleasure. It’s not the same as the Irish English but very similar. Also knowing about the history of the conflict of Northern Ireland helps understand the nuances of this book too. English dialects are so varied. Even within the country of  England, the English can change. 

I recommend this book. It’s like a detective thriller with a side of gangs and Scottish cussing. 

However since the website is named Books and Bianca, here’s alittle about what my last two years have been like since entering my thirty’s. One big word I remind myself about is, DISAPPOINTMENT. Disappointing as many people so as to not disappoint myself. Saying lots of no’s, drawing boundaries and sticking to them. And the occasional fuck off to the rightfully deserved. 

And a second word is, RECIPROCITY. This means if you cannot reciprocate the love or joy or time or energy that I’m putting in, I will cut that cord. I rather grieve and get over you whether platonic or romantic than continue to give a fuck. Because currently the fucks are reserved for my dance classes, therapy, prayer, the gym, my career, the five people my nervous system loves, my books and most importantly, the cats of the world.