Synopsis
Dint follows the ups and downs of Bob Dint, a young man trying to find true love. From a childhood dominated by his friendship with Joanna, the girl next door, a brilliant, self assured and furious campaigner for the recognition of her rights (even at the age of four), Bob grows up to fall under the spell of the beautiful Francesca, beginning an odyssey that is to leave him bruised, but unbowed.
Given his marching orders in a letter used for typing practice by the aloof and unapproachable Fran, Bob turns to his best friend Finn, with whom he shares a passion for gloomy introspection and progressive rock music. Everything changes when Finn falls in love with Carrie, but it isn’t long before Carrie is more interested in Bob who faces the classic dilemma between remaining loyal to his friend or going out with his best friends girlfriend. Needless to say, being a man with no back bone and a tendency to lie his way out of confrontation, Bob elects to go out with Carrie, and when she inevitably dumps him it isn’t long before he falls into the arms of his work colleague at the dole office, Gina, an exuberant and colourful wild child with a huge appetite for life and a determination to undermine the Civil Service. But it is Charley who really turns his world upside down. Beautiful and infuriating, a tantalising tease he just can’t leave alone, it is to her he runs after an aborted attempt to reunite with Carrie on a barge holiday, blocking the course of true love with the nautically gifted Bruno. The inevitable showdown in a Welsh seaside resort involves Druids, attempted murder and fiddlers elbow.
In a tale rich in humour, our hero attempts to stay on the tracks on a rollercoaster relationship ride, dealing with suicidal cars, angry Cornish men, tepees and the mysteries of timetables along the way.
Sample
Finn had moved since Bob s last visit; he no longer lived in a ramshackle one bed roomed cottage up a dark windy lane, he celebrated his married status by living in a two bed roomed ramshackle cottage even further up an even darker and more windy lane. It was now approaching Christmas, and as Bob uncoiled himself from the back of the van a sharp wind which had gathered momentum blowing up the valley blew straight through his synthetic fibres, whirled around his ribcage and tousled his innards before preceding on up into the mountain upon the slopes of which the cottage stood.
He couldn’t believe how cold it was, how dark it was and how wet it was as a squall whipped itself up into a frenzy in the small courtyard. He staggered towards the meagre light thrown from a window he hoped was close to a door, slipping and sliding in his city shoes which were rapidly beginning to squelch. He stepped in something, lifted his foot to see what it was and fell in something. His heart sank as he realised that the meagre light was meagre because it was thrown by a candle Finn had neglected to tell him there was no electricity and no running water.
As Bob stood in the tiny hallway, dripping on to a huge flagstone, Finn and Charley entered laughing. They weren’t laughing at him; they were oblivious to his presence. From the moment Charley had slid into his passenger seat, she and Finn had held an animated conversation that continued all the way up the lane, through four farmyards, across two fields and into the courtyard. Finn looked more swashbuckling than ever; in his chunky hand knitted sweater and army surplus greatcoat he shrugged off the worst the elements could throw at him it wasn’t hard to picture him at the very top of the mountain rescuing some pitiable new born lamb, strapping it across his broad shoulders before galloping surefooted back down the steepest slopes. Bob knew that if he’d been Charley he’d have been swooning. He also noticed she had chosen wisely from amongst her extensive wardrobe, natural materials were the order of the day - it wasn’t she who was soaked and frozen.
She looked to the cottage born and the sight of her tucked up in her duffel coat sent Bob s memory back to the day all those weeks ago when they’d first met. The laughter stopped momentarily while she lowered her hood and shook out her cascade of curls, but resumed again as she and Finn pulled off their sensible boots (when had they appeared on Charley? Bob was certain she wasn’t wearing them while they hitch hiked) and padded into the lounge in almost identical thick woolly socks. Bob peered in from his puddle in the hallway to see a sight which wouldn't have looked out of place on any of the Christmas cards being thrust into pillar boxes up and down the country. Finn and Charley were stretched out on a sheepskin rug warming their toes in front of the roaring log fire, the flames lit up their wholesome features (no sign of any spots on Charley now) reflecting off Finn s dark brooding eyes, and giving Charley the look of an angel who had most definitely crossed to the other side. Bob was beside himself with jealousy.
The fact that it was all going to plan didn’t help. It was all going too much to plan, Bob hadn’t countered on them striking up quite so instant a rapport, and at the rate things were moving Finn would be throwing her over his shoulder and stomping up the rickety staircase in a matter of minutes. He’d wanted Finn to find her ravishing, but he didn’t necessarily want him to ravish her. Finn was supposed to be just a warm up act for him, an indication of the kind of man Bob could be too if only Charley would shack up with him in a deserted cottage in the hills. At this rate he was going to be heading back to college alone. Finn had matured into a true mountain man, his bones were granite and there was quartz in his veins. Standing in his thin damp clothes, shivering in the hallway, Bob couldn’t really compete. He pulled off his loafers, deciding not to examine whatever he'd trodden in, and shuffled out of his lightweight summer jacket, deciding not to examine whatever he'd fallen in. More than anything he longed to dry out in front of the fire, but who was he to spoil the cosy scene there?
As luck would have it, at that moment the door burst open with a howl of wind and a flurry of leaves, and Finn’s wife, Amber, backed into the cottage laden down with logs. Bob hadn't really considered where she was, but he wondered what she'd make of the cosy twosome lounging by the fire. He thought Finn might jump up in embarrassment, and although he did jump up it was simply to help Amber with the logs - there was no trace of embarrassment that Bob could see. Finn dutifully took the logs from her, and as she eased herself out of a huge cloak with extra reinforced flaps on the shoulders, Bob noticed she was more a child of nature than ever - if he wasn't mistaken she was in the final stages of pregnancy.
Bob was no expert on these matters, but it wouldn't have surprised him if the child arrived in time for the pagan mid winter festival he was sure was held in the valleys. As Finn took the logs carefully he exchanged a tender look with his wife; he wasn’t planning any infidelity - she was carrying his child and the rest of the world didn't exist. Bob noticed Charley had seen the look and he scoured her face for disappointment, but there was none. Instead she glowed; she'd gone back to her roots, she was wallowing in the earthiness of it all, and there was nothing earthier than a woman with child. It may have been winter, but spring was just around the corner; green shoots were poised to thrust through the moist soil, the very air was laden with fertility. Up in those hills men and women did what God intended them for (what else was there to do once the candles were blown out?); Bob was certain it wouldn't take much to persuade Charley to stay in the valley and produce babies - it was just a question of whether she was willing to have them with him.
