My Mum always read Dick Francis novels and recommended them to me, frankly I never felt the need, until that is, a few years ago I got 'stuck' outside San Francisco for a month with very little money or anything to do, having to sit tight and wait until my return ticket was due.
Needing to do something to pass the time I found a Dick Francis book at a friends house became engrossed and read through it in less than 24hrs.
I tried to ration myself but I must have read at least 12 of his books during that month and I loved each one.
A good thriller everytime, enough information on a subject to make you feel you've learnt something by the end of each one, from the running of a small wine importing business to the workings of an equine vetenary's surgery, for example.
I got more from his books than I expected to, at a time when I needed a nice surprise and he never sold me wrong.*
Rest in peace Mr. Francis.
*unlike that blaspheming pretender D*n Br*wn, who's woeful colouring book 'Th* D* V*nc* C*de' I 'read' during the same month.
That patronising 'Eric Von Daniken meets Harry Potter' tw*tfest of a tome was hurled across the room several times in disgust but returned to, like a dog to vomit, somehow my needing to read it all, just so I could say I hated it in it's enirety.
