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Fiction
Non-fiction
Gerald L Milch
This book was written in lockdown thinking I may be able to come up with a feasible story while reliving my teenage years vicariously, wishing they'd been as described. I'm now seventy-six, a widower, my husband (the dedicatee) having died in 2016 after forty-four years together. My home is in London where my current companion is an eighteen-year-old deaf cat, who is however, an excellent alarm clock, getting me up at four thirty a.m., to feed him before I go for a swim at the YMCA.
