@High Seas,
If you have read your link properly, as I assume you have, you will understand that I am not free to discuss such delicate matters. It's all hush-hush. Even the fact that I don't already work for them is hush-hush.
My book was to be about how the ladies wormed their way in and took over and the trouble it took to restore order.
My hero was an officer who was suspended on half-pay suspected of being involved with a KGB man in a bullion heist in Vladivostok and living on an private island off the west coast of Scotland with four barmaids to make sure he could always get a pint when he needed one. In a converted lighthouse on a small cliff with a path leading down to a secluded cove replete with golden sand and washed by the balmy waters of the Gulf Stream. Germaine Greer, who currently serves as Professor Emeritus of English Literature and Comparative Studies at the University of Warwick, gave me the idea but I can't say what it is because it would give the secret away. And with a few juicy news stories for bolstering, so to speak.
But I always get bogged down with it. The refurbishment of the lamp room took me ages. I got to the point of fancying bringing interior design to the suburbs. And that's not a job a man like me would readily take to. That was to be in Chap I. The Island. Or Jacko's Island. Chap 2 was to be Recall.
I wish somebody else would write it. I'd love it.
And I'm not going overbloodyseas ever abloodygain.