When I sat down to write The
Hit-and-Run Man I needed a foreign city for seduction and a reckless night
of passion. Some of the preparatory action would take place during the flight,
but I didn’t want that to be over-long from London, so I had to look to Europe.
For detail I could always have gone to the library for a tour guide, but I
wanted somewhere I had visited, so had a feel for. Unfortunately, at that time,
my foreign travel experience was very limited, being down mainly to football
(soccer to my U.S. friends) and the club I have supported since childhood,
Aston Villa.
Winning the
pre-Premiership First Division in season 1980-81, saw Villa the following
season in the European Cup, where, against all predictions outside of Birmingham
(and some from certain areas inside too!), Villa battled to a Final against
Bayern Munich. As a long-standing season ticket holder and home and away
supporter, getting a ticket was no problem, but the club insisted, with crowd
behaviour still blighting the game at that time, that everyone receiving a
ticket had to join the Travellers Club.
The Final was in
Rotterdam, in the Netherlands, but we decided to travel the day before, with an
overnight stop in Belgium en route. So to my first option, Antwerp.
The second most
populous city in the country, after Brussels, and one of the largest sea ports
in Europe, it certainly had something going for it. A splendid 14th
century cathedral overlooked a city with an interesting mix of history and
modern-day life. No lack of culture either, as artist Rubens had lived there
and was buried there. A centre of the diamond trade, if my main character had
been a diamond merchant, it might have stood a chance, but for an advertising
executive falling prey to the charms of a beautiful, sexy lady, it didn’t
really do it for me.
So, next day it was
on to my second option, Rotterdam. To be fair, I didn’t see that much of
Rotterdam, as focus was on the big night. The second largest city in the
Netherlands, it boasts one of the largest and busiest sea ports on the world.
It sees itself as cultural competition for Amsterdam. If my main character had
been a boat or ship spotter (just when does a boat become a ship?), it may have
stood a chance, but I couldn’t somehow see it as a backdrop for seduction and a
reckless night of passion.
We did stop
overnight in Rotterdam, but started our long, return journey home fairly early
the next morning. Interestingly, our railways in the U.K., even more so than now,
were compared unfavourably with those in the continent efficiency-wise, but our
train back to Ostend ran so late, we missed our hydrofoil connection.
So, how did
Barcelona get in on the act? It had been a great night in Rotterdam as Aston
Villa won the European Cup with a 1-0 victory over Germany’s Bayern Munich, a
Peter Withe goal scored agonisingly via the post right in front of where my
friends and I were sitting. That win put the club into the following season’s
European Super Cup, a one-off tie over two legs against that season’s winners
of the now defunct European Cup Winners Cup (I hope non-football people are
following this. Do keep up!). Yes, you will have already guessed that was
Barcelona.
Despite its grand title,
my friends and I rated that match as little more than a glorified friendly, so
made no plans to go to Barcelona, but for me fate took a hand.
At that time the
company I worked for ran a sales incentive scheme with rewards of expenses paid
trips to major sporting events home and abroad. The Union representing
administration workers took issue with management over the exclusion of its
members, despite their contribution to the success of the company. Whether it
was a genuinely-felt gesture or management didn’t think it was an issue worth
fighting the Union over, they made a few places available on the next trip,
which just happened to be Aston Villa’s Super Cup away leg in Barcelona. A draw
was made and my name was one that came out of the hat.
This was my first
time flying, so it is not difficult to imagine my thoughts on a cold January
night as an hour before departure time a raging snow blizzard swept across
Birmingham airport. However, take off was on time, the pilot informed us it was
15 degrees C in Barcelona, so the snow was soon forgotten.
For the book it was
really a no contest. With its wide avenues, a splendid Gothic Cathedral, a
skyline of grandiose buildings overlooked by the fairy-tale spires of the
unfinished Sagrada Familia Basilica, plus the sultry summer Mediterranean heat,
Barcelona lent itself perfectly to seduction by a beautiful woman.
The Husa Presidente,
where the main character stays, is the hotel I stayed in and the Pable Espanyol
de Montjuic – The Spanish Village – scene of the first encounter with the bad
guys was on the sight-seeing tour. I have taken some liberties in the book with
its immediate environment for dramatic effect, but I’m a long way from being
the first author to indulge in that particular ploy. In fact, I was reminded
just how good a company I was in on a recent visit to the ruins of the twelfth
century Ashby-de-la-Zouch Castle, the scene of Sir Walter Scott’s famous
jousting tournament in Ivanhoe.
Ashby-de-la-Zouch Castle
For the record Aston
Villa unluckily lost the first leg in Barcelona 0-1, but won the second leg
3-0, so adding the European Super Cup to its honours list. Champions of
England, Champions of Europe, the European Super Cup - I have to wonder when
Villa supporters will see such glory days again.
The Hit-and Run Man is
published as an e-book by Amazon for download to a Kindle or other devices
using Amazon’s free reading app.
